Dear friends of Refuge,
I was going to write an email all about how our upcoming Refuge Run to Brew Hope is, well, all about brewing hope. And I could have done that… but this week, I’m convinced that “brewing hope” is a difficult endeavor with higher stakes than most of us imagine.
At the risk of you thinking this email is about politics, I am now going to quote Donald Trump, speaking at a rally in Wilmington, N.C., last week:
“They’re coming from the Congo. They’re coming from Africa. They’re coming from the Middle East. They’re coming from all over the world — Asia,” Mr. Trump said. “A lot of it coming from Asia.
“What’s happening to our country is we’re just destroying the fabric of life in our country,” Mr. Trump continued. “We’re not going to take it any longer. You got to get rid of these people. Give me a shot.”
Whatever your politics, I hope you were struck by the word that got me right away: it. Twice, the word “it” was used to describe people, many who came here through a healthy (despite claims to the contrary) refugee resettlement program and who contribute to our country in beautiful ways. After calling people “it,” Mr. Trump called them “these people.”
It. These people.
Donald Trump is not the only politician saying these things. Heck, he’s not the only human, by far, saying them. It’s just that today I’d had enough. I sat down to write a happy, shiny piece about our race, and then I read the NYT article about the rally last Saturday. And I had to write something else. I write when I’m angry.
I’m honestly fine if you don’t show up or give to Refuge (I might get in trouble for saying that!), but I do want you to care enough to welcome the most unwelcomed people on the planet, the small fraction of the 90 million refugees worldwide who have ended up here, the people who desperately need to sense our hope in them and for them. So, I have to ask: Will you brew hope with us? I don’t know what that means for you, but I know what it means for me.
This Saturday, brewing hope means showing up to walk with my hiking stick and soak in the joy that being hopeful creates.
Thanks for letting me rant. It did me good for a minute. But what better way to pivot from anger to hope than to spend a fun day with my friends from Africa, from Congo, from the Middle East, from Asia, and from right here in the good ole welcoming US of A?
With gratitude,
Kitti
