Give a Damn Sundays
Michael Lynne, Give A Damn, Mend America, 1969
On January 29th, I got an email from my neighbor, Julie, on my Brooklyn block’s email chain titled “Give a Damn, you’re invited.” In it, Julie shared a story of one of the early seeds of her activism. Growing up down south, in a city with tremendous wealth differences, her local church started “Give a Damn Sundays”, a weekly day of service to support the city’s poor in a variety of ways. It took off, with people all over the city wearing Give a Damn buttons, and became a serious source of support for low income residents, and a mainstay of her teenage life. Different people started showing up on Sundays, many not the regular church crowd. It offered them a way to express care for their neighbors, desire for social change, and belief in the ability of people to make a difference. It also created a big network of people who know, enjoy, and support one another.
The email invited all the people living on our block to the first weekly Give a Damn Sundays meeting to discuss the political situation and determine ways to act. So far, we’ve had five such meetings, in which we eat bagels or sip wine, get to know each other better, and come up with practical actions we can take. The group has since gotten together to make protest art that was used in local protests, started a weekly “Stop Musk” action at a busy nearby intersection, made calls to elected officials and invited block members to several actions to support local efforts to protect refugees and trans youth.
Perhaps more significantly though, I have gotten to know my neighbors. Besides the smiles on the street, I now know who to turn to in different scenarios of need. I know who’s most concerned about what and why. I know which other communities different neighbors are connected with. I know who is like-minded, who is an ally, who I can and can’t partner with on what type of project. I know which of my neighbors might find themselves under threat in different ways down the road. And they know which areas I can give in, and where I’m vulnerable.
Community building is, in the deepest sense, resistance. In periods of concern, knowing. one another is where a culture of support, friendship and fraternity begins. It is an antidote to prejudice, and a salve for hatred, fear, and discomfort. If I know my neighbor, I have a better chance of protecting them, of comforting or supporting them in the right moments, of standing up for them, of being an ally. Hannah Arendt put it this way: “power always comes from men acting together” and “isolated men are powerless by definition.”
This is a moment for being an ally, for coming together and partnering, for turning the stranger into a fellow traveler, an acquaintance, maybe even a friend. Otherwise, how would we be able to fulfill the divine charge to “Love the stranger?” It’s by building community that we will find the ways to express our values, concerns, rage and desires for a better world in the public sphere.
On a mental health level, Give a Damn Sundays gives me an hour a week in which I know I’m acting, not just angsting. It has become one of my coping methods.
In the coming weeks members of my synagogue will be forming our own version of Give a Damn, as a way to participate in the struggles our community finds most important. We are already in touch with other communities as part of a coalition of Jewish organizations supporting immigrants. There are actions around the city scheduled for March that some will join: against spending cuts to programs upholding the poor (see you on the streets March 15!), against immigration raids, in support of Trans rights, and more.
I know a lot of us are suffering for lack of avenues to express ourselves politically in a meaningful way. We have diverse voices in every community, thank God. Through conversation and action we can learn about one another, and find ways to stand up for what we believe in.
This week Jews celebrate our deliverance from a racist, bigoted empire by the courage of Queen Esther. The day before Purim is called Ta’anith Esther, Esther’s Fast. It marks the time when before Esther went in to see the king and reverse the decree to kill the Jews, she asked the entire Jewish community to join her in a fast. And they did. Without the community’s participation she would not have had the courage to tell the King who she is. And she would not have succeeded in saving us. This Thursday I plan on fasting on Ta’anith Esther for the first time in my life. We need to build this community of courage, friendship and love.
As I see it, every community should consider forming a local Give A Damn. Block by block, neighborhood by neighborhood, community by community we can transform our public sphere not only in the short term but toward a healthier society many years hence. It will be exciting to see what will grow out of our living rooms.
