Channel Kindness

by Born This Way Foundation Reporters

  As my role model, Lulu cleared something up for me about the cynics out there who don’t really understand social activism. She confessed that, once she became a senior in high school, a lot of people suggested that the only reason she was running a charity and publishing a book was to get into a good college. “I’ve heard a lot of snarky comments about that, from both peers and adults alike. It’s definitely a little hurtful, because it assumes that my intentions with LemonAID Warriors are self-serving, which is certainly not the case.” Lulu sighed. She quickly added, “I know that often those comments, especially when they come from people my age, are out of insecurity, which usually peaks during college application season. I’ve sort of learned to brush them off, because I know that I do what I do out of a passion to help others, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.”

  There was just one more big question I had to ask my friend and role model who had accomplished so much at an early age: “What’s next?”

  She told me about her plans for college at Columbia University and how excited she is to focus on all that she would be learning. With her vice president taking over the day-to-day running of LemonAID Warriors, she would still be involved, but not so intensively. No doubt, she emphasized, “Activism will definitely play a huge role in my college life, but I’m really looking forward to this next chapter of exploration.”

  The more I thought about how the universe connected me to Lulu, the more grateful I felt for the kindness champions in my life.

  Kindness is a connecting force, I believe, that creates bonds between people with shared concerns.

  One of the suggestions in Lulu’s book is actually to throw a party that’s not about raising money but simply about raising kindness.

  Why not?

  Kindness costs nothing, changes the world, empowers those who practice it and, in the end, can never, ever be stopped.

  Riley, you and Lulu sound like people I’d want to hang out with—parties and do good’ing? Yes, please. At Born This Way Foundation we always say that it’s not enough to just talk about kindness, you have to take an action in service to someone else without the expectation of anything in return. You have to actually be kind, not just talking about being kind and what a fun way to do exactly that—PhilanthroParties! You should meet Taylor Parker from Indiana, they’d think this was rad too. To find out more about the people partying with a purpose, search the hashtag #philanthroparties and take that inspiration to plan your own!

  43

  FINDING THE Spark

  AMY SUN

  The decision to become a volunteer for any worthy endeavor is one I heartily encourage everyone to consider, regardless of whatever capacities you think you may have. You may think that it’s something to do for others, but I also believe that what you receive back from your efforts will be of equal or greater measure. That was the lesson I learned recently, when I began volunteering at Erie Neighborhood House for a program in Chicago that provides tutoring primarily for low-income communities.

  Their Tutoring to Educate for Aims and Motivation (TEAM) program provides weekly tutoring and mentorship for teens in seventh to twelfth grades, who are largely first-generation and want to go to college. Since 1998, 97 percent of their TEAM students have moved on to college, with TEAM providing scholarships as well as comprehensive workshops on the financial aid application process.

  When I met my first student, a ninth grader, I introduced myself. “Hello. My name is Amy Sun, and I’m going to be your tutor.” I could tell pretty quickly that she was having trouble finding the motivation to study. The more I tried to make suggestions, the more I saw a need to find the right spark to light in her.

  One day, the site coordinator decided to pass out notebooks as prizes for finishing the homework set. Interestingly enough, my student really perked up when she heard that, and I noticed it was a great motivator to get through all her worksheets. After realizing that the students could be inspired by the right incentives, I decided to write to a local college, the University of Chicago, asking for a donation of anything college-related to help students stay focused.

  Right away, they sent her a T-shirt, which both excited and motivated her going forward.

  After the success with the university, I decided to get other colleges on board with donations for underprivileged kids.

  All of a sudden, the spark was lit in me.

  Without a lot of time to contact a long list of colleges, I had the idea to write a code in Google Apps Script. This way, I could send requests via automated e-mails to 1,600 colleges across the nation, including Swarthmore College, Regent College, and the University of California Irvine.

  Like an avalanche, I began receiving dozens of packages a day containing T-shirts, pamphlets, pens, notebooks, and even toothbrushes, totaling up to more than three thousand items—enough to expand our number of beneficiaries.

  With the help of Erie Neighborhood House, we got in contact with a classroom of highly motivated students. During one afternoon, my sister and I donated all the items we had collected to the students. Watching their reaction to the gifts was wonderful, as was seeing them eagerly discussing the college pamphlets as they learned more about potential opportunities for higher education. The buzz spread. Later that week, the assistant director of Erie’s foundation, Maria Munoz, wrote to me. “Thank you so much for coming and donating, Amy! Kids have been wearing the college shirts all this week.”

  * * *

  Looking to light a spark in a student lit a spark in me.

  * * *

  In the process, I was able to put my professional skills to use and multiply the results of my efforts. As I learned, a little incentive can go a long way in motivating a student to do the work that will pave their way to college and beyond. There is nothing more rewarding to me than the satisfaction that comes from knowing I made an impact on others’ lives in order to help them in a lasting, meaningful way.

  In her story, Amy writes about the importance of education, and I share her excitement in encouraging students to reach their full potential. Young people will rise to the expectations we set for them; I know I did, and I’m so grateful to my parents for believing in me. If you live in Chicago, check out Erie Neighborhood House, and to help young students achieve success in school, consider becoming involved in a mentorship program such as Big Brothers Big Sisters or iMentor.

  44

  KIND WORDS CHANGE MINDS, HEARTS, AND, SOMETIMES, SOCIETY

  CONNOR LONG

  My name is Connor Long, and as I write these words, I have to say that it is much easier for me to act with kindness than to write about it. As a young person with Down syndrome, I am challenged by having great trouble clearly expressing the most typical thoughts, emotions, dreams, goals, and desires. So, when I venture forth on writing projects, I often enlist someone who can help structure my thoughts and clarify my words until I know that what goes down on paper reflects the essence of what I have to say.

  As an everyday person, throughout my activities I can easily choose to be kind, to speak kindly, to listen kindly, and to simply be present with someone in need of kindness. It is always an option in front of me.

  But as an advocate for people with differing abilities (dif-abilities), sometimes I have to actually tell people why kindness is important in our lives and in our laws. As if it weren’t plain enough:

  Kindness ripples,

  as does unkindness.

  These days, when it is often too hard to find kindness in our politics, let us be sure to find kindness, fairness, and equity in our own words, both public and private.

  For example, while mental retardation was once a clinically appropriate and useful term, its slang shorthand—retard—has become a common and willfully demeaning and hurtful slur that invites taunting, stigma, and stereotype. It invites bullying from the heartless and slammed doors from the mindless. It undermines the simple human need and right to be treated with respect and dignity.

  So, y
es, we advocates consider the term a stinging label that is outdated, stigmatizing, and needs to go away. But not everyone is embracing the shift. Critics say that changing the word is an act of “political correctness” rather than any substantive change.

  Peter V. Berns, CEO of nonprofit The Arc of the United States, says it best: “We understand that language plays a crucial role in how people with intellectual disabilities are perceived and treated in society. Changing how we talk about people with disabilities is a critical step in promoting and protecting their basic civil and human rights.”

  The Arc, which promotes and protects the rights of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, has been advocating the use of the term intellectual disability. It is the reasonable position of The Arc that “The only ‘R-word’ that should be used when referring to people with intellectual and developmental disabilities is respect.”

  I completely agree.

  So my message on how to channel kindness is to ask you to think about the words you use, because they may change the minds and hearts we need to make our communities and society kinder and fairer for all.

  Making the world a kinder place isn’t as easy as just being smiley and kind all the time. Sometimes we have to talk and think about it, and then act on it. We have to be brave and kind enough to change minds and hearts through our words and our actions.

  In his story, Connor writes about the power of language, proving kind words really do make a difference in someone’s day, year, and life. I’ve found that in my own life, and I do my best to talk to myself—and others—using kind words because I believe, as Connor writes, that kindness ripples, as does unkindness. To ensure a more inclusive community that respects and protects the rights of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities, please visit The Arc and connect with your local chapter.

  What can you do to make today—and tomorrow—a kinder place for others?

  You may have heard it many times, but it’s worth putting out this reminder:

  Kindness is

  always possible,

  always an option.

  45

  A FRONT-ROW SEAT TO KINDNESS

  MAYA ENISTA SMITH

  * * *

  As powerful as it is to be someone who commits acts of kindness, it can also be the most extraordinary experience to witness an act of kindness done by someone simply because it was the right thing to do. This story is from Maya Enista Smith, executive director of Born This Way Foundation.

  * * *

  It’s pouring rain in Northern California, and I’m just sitting down, getting ready to start an action-packed day of work, preparing for #KickOffForKindness, and planning an epic Year Of Kindness. After an early start, I dashed out to my local Starbucks and am back at my desk, where I—of course—already have my coffee in hand. That coffee is one of the few things that got me out of my office today.

  My job is kindness, and it’s incredible. I’ve committed to thinking about kindness beyond the fact that I’m lucky to have it as the number-one deliverable on my work plan: How is the world kinder because of your work today? I’d love to expand the answer to that question and think about what it means for me as a mom, as a community member, as a wife, as a friend.

  The story most on my mind for now, though, is a lesson I learned over the past two days. I share it in the hope that it reminds you to not only think about kindness, look for kindness, and practice kindness, but also to acknowledge kindness in others.

  Yesterday, on my daily coffee run to Starbucks, I ran into my good friend Heidi and her daughter.

  Heidi’s beautiful three-year-old is undergoing brain surgery tomorrow to remove tumors that are causing seizures in her little body. Heidi’s daughter bounced around Starbucks and asked me (as she usually does) if she could have a cookie. I know what cookies can do to three-year-olds at 10:00 a.m., but this time I didn’t even look at Heidi for permission. I picked her daughter up and asked her to point to the cookie she wanted, and as we waited in line to pay, I gestured to Gina (the manager) and quietly informed her of the surgery.

  Mother to mother, I mouthed, Can you even imagine? Gina and I shook our heads at each other, and she handed the little girl her cookie.

  Blinking back tears, I hugged Heidi, waved at Gina, then left Starbucks and went to work.

  An hour later, I received a text from Heidi with a beautiful picture of her daughter, hugging a Starbucks bear. She wrote, “Your baristas are the best.”

  * * *

  Gina had given her a bear to keep her company in the hospital, and with that bear, Gina gave Heidi kindness, acknowledgment, and recognition of her incredible strength and courage.

  * * *

  Heidi needed the kindness of someone she didn’t know, someone who could do something for her little girl that a child would treasure. (Sometimes you need an outsider to cheer up your child because you are so worn out and worried.) It was a little thing, but it meant the world to me to know Heidi was given an unexpected—but much appreciated—act of kindness from a stranger ahead of a difficult, uncertain time.

  I kept this story of kindness to myself … mostly.

  Earlier today—one day later—I stood in line at the same Starbucks to order the same coffee from the same friendly faces. Gina asked me urgently if there was news and when I would know about the results of the surgery. Did they need anything else? She had just been talking to her district manager (who was seated in the store at a corner table) about the little girl and how moving it was to meet her. I promised to keep her updated and thanked her for the cup of coffee. I got in my car, preoccupied by a memo I had to write, and thought about the story that had just unfolded at this store over the past two days.

  The strangers who had been kind to me, to my friend, and to each other, had done so without the expectation of anything in return. Only I had the full picture of the depth of Heidi’s fear around the surgery, the joy that Gina’s simple action had brought her daughter, and the genuine concern Gina had for the child of a stranger. I sat in my car, took out a business card, and wrote a note to the district manager. I went back into the store, handed her the card without a word, and ran out.

  "Hi. My name is Maya. I work for Lady Gaga's foundation. I'm a huge fan of Starbucks. This is my local store and I just want to let you know that your baristas are wonderful. Gina, Kelly, + Derek are so kind, hardworking, and thoughtful. They make my day + the day of so many. Thanks!"

  Now, I have a lot of work to do and writing this has taken up a chunk of my morning, but it was worth it. I had a front-row seat to kindness this week, and I wanted to tell everyone about it. Being a witness to kindness is a gift.

  Two years later, Heidi and her daughter are doing really well. Nobody imagines what they can go through until they must, and then, when they do, they find the courage they need from within and, hopefully, the kindness of coffee, cookies, teddy bears, and community from without.

  Please look for kindness in your world and treasure it.

  Hi, Maya! Thank you for all that you do to share and amplify kindness through Born This Way Foundation and in your community (most often, in a Starbucks). I love that you notice kindness when others are engaging in it and that you use our platform to share those stories. I am so glad Heidi and Gina were able to be there for each other that day to help lift the other’s burden just a little bit. I hope you, and everyone reading this, keep sharing stories with our team at Born This Way Foundation, and don’t forget to tag them #ChannelKindness.

  46

  THE COURAGE TO BE DIFFERENT AND KIND

  NICK ALBRITTON

  Why would Nick Albritton, a transgender man and creative, leave rural Texas to move across the country? What motivated his efforts as a career coordinator helping young people experiencing homelessness in Seattle overcome societal barriers on the road to building a life reflective of their worth?

  Nick’s answers to those questions took him back to a moment in his childhood:

  M
y father’s brow was furrowed in despair as he reached for the thin wad of cash in his pocket. “This is all I got,” he said to me as he thumbed past a few dollar bills and found his last $20. I cradled the loaf of bread, can of Chef Boyardee, and bottle of sugary soda as we made our way toward the door.

  The twisting knot in my stomach was two parts hunger and one part shame. Shame for needing. Shame for not having enough.

  I was familiar with this feeling, though. My family understood poverty. It was woven into the script I’d been born into: that corporate America was broken. That the business taxes on our family’s old convenience store had run it into the ground. That the system had failed us.

  My father had a good work ethic; he rose with the sun and set with it, too. He poured his blood, sweat, and tears into our family’s farm. We were rich in a certain way—with hard work, swimming holes, grassy fields, and animal life. None of the green had faces on it, though, and if it did, it didn’t last long.

  As Nick grew into his teens, he recalled, that shame before dinner had grown with him. His self-image formed around a deepening awareness of the binaries set up by society. Rich or poor. Healthy or unhealthy. Normal or abnormal.