exactly identify, but was nonetheless
intuitively called to action. Even after
I moved to a different town, he and
I wrote letters because somehow I
knew he would need my friendship.
Had I known the word for it at four or
ten years old, I probably would have
called that empathy.
It’s no surprise that when I got to
college at the University of Arizona,
my friends and I started the Social
Justice League—not to be confused
with the league of universe-defending superheroes, although we often
fashioned ourselves as such in the
name of the aforementioned “isms.”
We hosted lectures, demonstrations,
peaceful marches, fundraisers and the
like to address issues ranging from sex
trafficking, immigration and fair trade
as the catalyst for social change, to
religious intolerance, domestic partnership benefits, and LGBTQ rights.
We were an extraordinary group of
young men and women with a huge
commitment to a world that works
for everyone and no one is left out.
Years later, I’m proud to say our Social
Justice League members have continued with vocational work to affect
change in their communities, institutions, society, and the world.
In Fall of 2009, the Social Justice
League chose to spotlight the issue of
homelessness, particularly given that
Tucson’s homeless community was
largely hidden due to privatization of
sidewalks and laws about sleeping in
public. Over 17,000 homeless people
lived virtually unseen in the city.
Despite being one of the world’s large
human rights issues, homelessness
was silently spreading in our own
backyard.
We quickly realized that to make
a difference we couldn’t simply watch
a movie, hand out a pamphlet, or
merely picket to “end homelessness.”
We wanted to understand it, experience it, and to really author our own
experience, w