2.5 pages
2 days
Adapted from Virginia Schwartz
Weekly Journals (10 of 12 possible weeks)
This assignment is very open. Your goals and purposes are up to you, and they may change from week to week or over the
course of the term.
Your target is to submit two (2) full pages, which should become easier over time (and will likely be easier for certain
weeks than for others).
These journals are for my eyes only, and you will never be asked to share them with the group.
Some options:
• You can write to me (commenting on our readings, the class, something that stuck with you, a problem that
you’re having, etc.).
• You can unpack and respond to things that are referenced but not discussed in the readings (Googling events,
terms or names mentioned but not dwelt upon, etc.), thus deepening your understanding of the readings.
• You can write more to yourself (in the way you would typically use the word “journal”).
• You can use these as notes for the readings to prep for discussion/to make connections throughout the semester
(or between this class and others).
The only real requirement is that you directly address the week’s class in some way (reading, discussion, etc.).
The idea here is that you’re writing to learn, using a specific, private form of writing to process your thoughts and
feelings for the week. If you naturally incline to professional writing, you might analyze something; if you prefer more of a
freewrite, that’s great too. Try to be clear and specific, and explain general statements to make them more meaningful. In
other words, don’t just mention or gloss over ideas and skip to the next thing, but try to use specific examples and
explanations to engage in each of the things you discuss.
This means that while you may write about pretty much anything, your goal should be to engage deeply with what you’re
writing rather than to fill up space. If you get stuck, you can respond to any of the thinking questions posted on Canvas
every week for specific readings.
No matter what style you choose, these are more for you than for me. They should go in your portfolio at the end of each
unit after I return them to you. Ideally, they will form a picture of your thoughts for the unit and the course.
Note: Though these are private, you can use them as brainstorming for things you want to bring up in discussion.
These journals are:
• Due every Thursday at the beginning of class in hard copy (or via e-mail if you are absent) starting in
week 3
• Typed in 11- or 12-pt font and double-spaced (if you’d prefer to handwrite these this is fine, but they then need
to be 2.5-3 pages)
• Your name should be on each journal, but they don’t need a title or anything fancy
2020/2/11 Keeping the Faith | By Layshia Clarendon
https://www.theplayerstribune.com/en-us/articles/layshia-clarendon-wnba-faith-sexuality 1/15
Arian Foster doesn’t believe in God.
I do.
We could easily fit into the believer/non-believer binary that religion has constructed over
time; a Christian praying for the soul of the faithless and the godless rebuking salvation.
There should be tension between us. I should be defensive about my faith when he
criticizes Christianity. But I feel more of a kinship with him than most of my fellow
believers.
Keeping the Faith
B Y L AY S H I A C L A R E N D O N
AU G 2 0 2 0 1 5
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We’re both outsiders in the Christian community — two people who don’t believe in
religion as an institution but who invest in and love Jesus’ teachings; Arian, the Agnostic,
and me, the Believer, both driven away by Christianity’s exclusivity. We’re the same yet
different all at once — religious rebels who are forced aside as they look in on the Christian
majority.
I identify as black, gay, female, non-cisgender and Christian. I am an outsider even on the
inside of every community to which I belong. My very existence challenges every racial,
sexual, gender and religious barrier.
My older sister came out when I was in middle school, and suddenly, my parents were
religious. They referenced morality, but only for that particular sin. It can be a convenient
excuse, the Bible, to cover up someone’s personal discomfort. The entire experience was
rough on my sister. Her admission broke the whole family up. She played basketball at
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Pepperdine University and my dad stopped going to her games. He didn’t speak to her for
months.
I didn’t say anything at the time but I knew I was gay, too. I learned right then and there
that my home was not a safe space in which to be gay, and had to swallow every derogatory
slur about “dykes” and “fags” over the next few years.
I got a scholarship to play basketball at the University of California, Berkeley. I had
been very much out in my basketball circle since high school. My coaches were accepting
and affirming of who I was. I found my place amongst those who identified in similar ways
as I, who looked like me, who shared an equal open-mindedness.
I was already out to my older sister and younger brother, and eventually came out to my
mom my sophomore year. My mother, after attempting to throw a few Bible verses at me,
was more loving and inclusive this time around. I could hear the concern in her voice
about my dad finding out. It was less about me being gay, and more about having to deal
with another family catastrophe.
The four of us became bound by acceptance — and, also, by fear of my dad’s reaction. My
mom met the people I dated with some lingering hesitation. But, with time and exposure,
she came to fully accept my sexuality. It’s easy to discard or disagree on principle with a
faceless concept — my gayness as a mere fact. But when she saw — when people see — two
people, relating in happiness and love, it becomes much harder to untangle right and
wrong.
Love is not a moral argument. Who hasn’t felt the rush of new love, the guttural sickness of
a broken heart, and all of the messy and beautiful and complicated feelings in-between?
Love isn’t a gay or straight experience; it’s a human experience.
While I found love in others, I also found love in God.
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One of my Cal teammates went to a church in Berkeley, called The Way, and invited me
along. I wasn’t seeking to answer life’s questions or searching for something bigger than
myself; I wasn’t trying to fill a larger inner void or find acceptance, given all of my
identities. It was simple: I just accepted an invitation with an open mind — and now, I
realize, an open heart as well.
I fell in love with the people and with God. I wasn’t looking for salvation. And yet, here I
was. There are many people who spend their whole lives in the Church as nothing more
than routine. They know every Bible story; they can quote any verse. But they don’t
necessarily experience it. I didn’t have any religion attached to this. I didn’t have any
Christian baggage. I was experiencing God and these believers in the purest form. They
showed me what God’s love is, and for that I am forever grateful.
The Way, a non-denominational (predominately black) church, focuses on not just lessons
but issues. Its messages are largely rooted in social justice — conversations, causes,
understanding and advancement. It’s not condemning or fundamentalist. It seeks to
answer larger questions but also accepts that it doesn’t have all of the answers. I was an
American Studies major, so these conversations — sociolo�y meets faith — fascinated and
inspired me. The more I learned about the gospel, the more I fell in love with Jesus and his
radical love and non-conformity. It wasn’t about the religious rule; it was about freedom in
faith.
I became deeply involved with The Way. My teammate and I were always excited any time
we got back from a road trip in time to attend church. It didn’t matter if we were still in our
sweats or, admittedly, a little hungover after having gone out on Saturday night. My favorite
part of church was and is praise and worship. We dance, sing and shout with freedom and
joy. Before the sermon starts, we go around and hug one another, exchanging smiles and
small conversation. I’m fortunate to have only had positive experiences with this body of
organized religion. No one questioned my faith as an out person. I was accepted and
shown love, as one should be.
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Even so, I started to question, Can I be gay and Christian? It wasn’t because of the laws of
the Bible around gender, keeping faith, governing bodies or treatment of women (all of
which I still can’t answer for). I had to reconcile my sexuality with my faith, and also
reconcile those two things with the homophobia in the larger body of the Church and
Bible.
I struggled for two years with the tension between those two things: faith and sexuality. Do
I live honestly, knowing that my sexuality isn’t something I chose but rather an innate
detail of who I am? And if I do, what does that mean for my relationship with God? Those
two years were full of turmoil. The shame and fear attached to being LGBT are like nothing
else I’ve ever experienced. To lay awake at night, wondering if you will forever be punished
for something you cannot change, is a dark place. I had just started to experience so many
amazing things about God, but now it seemed like perhaps it was all too good to be true.
Like The Way, Cal has always been a safe space for me on this journey. From coaches to
athletic directors to support staff, I was given freedom and acceptance to express myself. I
was encouraged to bring any significant other I chose to team events, and embraced by
fans — Mohawk and all.
I delved into books and sought counsel with my pastor. This turmoil helped me discover
God’s character: His promise, love, acceptance, call for justice and strict call to
righteousness. My constant prayer was, “God, if this is who you created me to be, please
just give me peace. A peace that surpasses all understanding.”
I had to realize that this is who I was created to be; this is who I am and that’s okay because
I was uniquely made. God welcomes all who seek Him, and it says, “whosoever shall
believe.” Anyone. Jesus didn’t just die for the straight people.
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I fully accepted myself, and finally came out to my dad. The sad irony is that the most
difficult place for me to find acceptance outside of myself is within the Christian
community. When people find out I am gay, their immediate thought is sex. They attach
that behavior to me — they try to have agency over me. When my aunt, who is Christian,
learned that I was gay, she prayed for me. I was told that marriage and sex were meant to
be a beautiful thing between a man and a woman. (As if I hadn’t heard that before and
didn’t struggle for years with this very belief.)
People assuming I’m having sex in the first place: You couldn’t possibly know my
relationship with my partner, nor could you know my relationship with God. There’s a
rampant ignorance about homosexuality. Sex is certainly a detail that differentiates gay
relationships from straight relationships — but even within heterosexuality, there are
different sexual relationships. When you hear about a straight couple, though, you’re not
thinking about their bedroom. Why are you, then, with me?
This message leaves people hurting and turned away from God. Faith is supposed to be the
one place where all are welcomed and loved.
I’ve had a lot of experience with tension among intersecting identities. Someone once
asked me which race I identified as: black or white. I’d never identified as a white woman
or a black woman. I just existed. But as I got older, I had to reconcile those racial identities.
How people view you can change your identity. I became aware that most viewed me as a
black woman. When I was with my white family, I felt like a black woman. There’s an
unspoken racial tension that exists within that family dynamic. I was coming into my black
consciousness, increasingly aware of racial constructions, particularly in the United States.
I felt the weight of the black identity — the stigma. Unlike my sexuality, when I walk into a
room, it’s apparent that I’m black. I cannot hide my skin. I don’t look like the whole of my
family.
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Again, on the outside — amongst those I most closely belonged.
I identify as a black woman but gender is another social identity I’ve had to reconcile.
Gender is largely a spectrum. I understand that my presentation is more masculine than
not. Most people see me and attach any number of their own identities: gay, male, black.
The front line of gender identity for me was — and remains — the bathroom.
A few years ago, I was in a mall bathroom, waiting to go into the stall. I’m used to looks and
double takes from people. But standing near me was a woman and her two children — a
boy and a girl. The young boy taps me on the shoulder and says, “You’re not supposed to
be in here.” I was shocked and upset. A boy — old enough to maybe not be in the women’s
bathroom anymore — telling me, a girl, she wasn’t supposed to be in the women’s
bathroom. It was telling of just how much social construction kids learn and how quickly
they learn it.
Recently, I was at the Mohegan Sun Casino, in Connecticut, for a game. I walked into the
bathroom and there’s a large mirror that lines the wall. I’m washing my hands, and behind
me is the bathroom entrance. An older woman walks in and looks up, not paying close
attention. She startles and rushes out of the bathroom — like she walked into the wrong
one. I can’t see her anymore but I can hear her. She’s gone around the corner to check the
sign. When she sees that, yes, it is the women’s bathroom, she walks back in.
I laugh more about these encounters than I used to but they’re reality checks — constant
reminders that I don’t fit in anywhere.
I’ve had to reconcile all of these intersectional identities in the real world but also in the
sports world.
I was drafted No. 9 overall in the 2013 WNBA Draft by the Indiana Fever.
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There’s an assumption that if you are a woman and you play basketball, especially in the
WNBA, that you are gay. That stereotype certainly affects our league’s marketability. For a
long time, our league didn’t directly market to the LGBT community due to the gay stigma
and need for big brand dollars. That’s slowly changed. The league now recognizes the
LGBT community because many of them are the ones filling the seats, buying the tickets,
tuning in and spreading the word. Lest we mention it’s the right thing to do. Now, in June,
in honor of Pride Month, the teams host Pride Night. It’s a night not just to recognize the
LGBT community, but to also raise awareness around all of the issues within that
community: suicide rates and homelessness among them. It’s a universal cause for life —
not a cause for homosexuality.
For a league with so many openly gay players, you’d think this would be readily celebrated.
It’s not. There’s a sense of a divide between the players.
Last season, our team and many across the league were going to wear t-shirts
acknowledging Pride Night. I was excited that the community was finally being accepted.
Hours before our game, a few of us were wondering, Where are our shirts? We were told
they were cut from the evening and they didn’t have them. What do you mean? The league
had done away with them. There wasn’t enough time to ask more questions. We played the
game but I looked for answers later.
We were told that there were players who didn’t feel comfortable wearing Pride t-shirts; it
was against their moral beliefs. My own Christian family, who believe in the same message
of love and acceptance, morally objected to a t-shirt. Instead of having negative press
surrounding the issue and perhaps opening a much larger dialogue around faith, the
league just decided to not send the t-shirts out.
In some ways, I’m glad the league handled the situation as they did. I wouldn’t want
negative attention given to moral objectors during what was a very positive month of June.
Still, a small subset of people owned the religious microphone and decided for everyone
else. The Church has a rich history of homophobia, which has inflicted so much harm on
so many lives. I took this especially personally because I am a Christian who often needs to
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prove her faith because of her sexuality. How could my fellow believers be the ones to
exclude any walk of life? As leaders in faith and the league, I expect my sisters in Christ to
fight for inclusion. That’s what we should be doing — that’s the right thing to do. Isn’t that
the message?
Christians have used the Bible to condemn and enslave multitudes, and now they’re using
it again. There are minorities in this league who are oppressing other minorities. There’s
no place for the binary between believers and non-believers — even between believers and
believers — when it comes to social justice.
Here’s the truth of it: this was an issue because only when it comes to LGBT activism is
there a moral stigma. When we’re talking about the gay community, that’s when people
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want to start talking about right and wrong.
Everyone is quick to put on a pink jersey for breast cancer awareness or wear green for
environmental awareness. But for Pride? The moral issue is the barrier.
This isn’t about sexuality or God. This is about social justice.
The LGBT community doesn’t often get identified as one that needs help — but the statistics
are staggering. We have to humanize these people. We have some of the highest suicide
rates, particularly when you intersect that with racial identity. We need money for suicide
prevention, for LGBT community centers, for homeless shelters. It all starts with
awareness. Do you know how to make people aware?
Wear a t-shirt.
It’s not about morality. You could save a life. You could make some long-suffering kid —
who’s been made to feel less than, discriminated against and possibly full of self-hate — feel
seen. And maybe, for a second, feel loved. It could give them hope and maybe something
like faith.
Isn’t that the point?
We have Faith and Family nights, too. As a Christian, I care about being in attendance. My
faith should be accounted for as much as any. But is it a safe space for me? Is it a safe space
for any other LGBT person? Is it just one representation of faith that we’re really discussing
here? It’s safe in that, no, they’re not going to kick anyone out. But I’m asking about safe as
acceptance — safe as a feeling. A straight person of faith could say, yes, we’re accepted and
it’s safe, but they don’t understand what it’s like to walk around these spaces. Maybe I’m
not going to get bullied. But am I going to feel welcomed enough to truly experience the
fullness of the event? What if the pastor conversationally detours into marriage?
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Few people are aware of such issues unless they have that identity. Black people are very
much aware of black issues because it’s their ever-present reality and consciousness. It’s
not necessarily my job to be the person who’s always asking questions about inclusion or
being mindful of others’ spaces and identities, but someone should. It should come from
our leadership. Are we making these spaces safe for everyone?
So many people in our league are LGBT and we’re not having these conversations. It’s a
shame. It might come down to having more voices like mine, leading, but with respect to
everyone else. We have to be involved. And others, especially those who identify as straight
and Christian, should be open and vulnerable enough to listen and grow. Ask questions:
Who’s the team chaplain? Does the Union pay them or are they volunteers? Is that person
inclusive?
In his article, Arian discussed prayer before games and how he, as a non-believer, doesn’t
fit into that space. He thinks about the issue because if he chooses not to participate, he’s
the outlier — the contrarian. If he does participate, he’s uncomfortable. Christians don’t
have to consider this — they pray because that’s an act of their faith. It’s a common locker
room routine. Even though I’m a Christian, I still hold the space in-between.
Before a game, my team will do the scout on the board, and then all hold hands and bow in
prayer. I recently thought, is everybody okay with this? We’ve never really asked anyone if they
were comfortable. We just assume that’s the case. We didn’t make any announcement
before the season like, “Hey, are you okay with praying? We can figure something out for
you if not,” or “We need to talk about this,” because for someone to have to stand up and
speak out about not praying before the game would be really isolating. If someone doesn’t
believe, sure, they can stand in the circle and close their eyes like everybody else. But why
not show them the same respect? Consider where they stand.
It’s our league to be more involved with, but it’s not just about the WNBA. These are
conversations we should have across all sports and leagues. How many of these traditions
potentially exclude LGBT athletes in other sports, particularly men’s leagues? This is about
religion and discrimination in sports generally, and the lack of education therein. We can
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shape the future and the conversations around these issues by asking tough questions, and
giving a voice to the minority.
I’m starting in my own way. I went back to The Way this past offseason for an LGBT
internship approved and funded by the WNBA. I led the first LGBT Bible study the church
ever had, which was an incredible experience. I want to extend those conversations about
gay acceptance and social justice in Christianity beyond those doors. Diversity should be
celebrated, particularly diversity within the Christian faith. We need more representations
of the Christian faith.
The beauty of my whole story is that, for all of the tension between my social and racial
identities, faith is what grounds me — even as I work to rectify all of these parts of myself. I
feel free of all the identities. If I weren’t gay and black and non-cisgender, I wouldn’t have
the same relationship with God that I do. It’s what pushed me to ask questions and seek
him in ways I wouldn’t have done otherwise. It’s the one place — my personal relationship
with God — where I always feel safe and included and welcome. It’s the place where I don’t
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Layshia Clarendon
I N D I A N A F E V E R
ABOUT ATHLETE APPLICATION CAREERS PRIVACY TERMS
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have to carry the burden of being black in America. I don’t have to carry the burden of
walking into a bathroom and being mistaken for male. I don’t have to carry the burden of
wondering whether people are judging me morally for being gay or not.
I feel freedom and love. That’s God.
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2020/2/11 Why I Went to Auschwitz | By Ray Allen
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T here was a small hole in the kitchen floor that led to a secret crawl space. Thatimage is burned into my memory. The space was maybe five feet long by five feetwide.
The owner of the house said, “They used to fit six people inside there. When the Nazis
would come.”
His name was Tadeusz Skoczylas, and the house we were in had belonged to his family
during World War II. It was a small brick house in the town of Ciepielów, Poland. It had a
Why I Went to Auschwitz
B Y R AY A L L E N
AU G 2 2 0 1 7
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red roof that had seen better days. The front door was just a few steps off the street. In the
backyard were a few barns and other small shacks.
I had been in Poland for a few days already, and the horror of the history I had experienced
was overwhelming. But this was something different. This was so personal.
I’m looking at this tiny space. And I’m imagining six people down there, hiding from death.
Six real people. Crawling through that little hole right in front of me. Not that long ago. It
wasn’t a history book. It wasn’t a museum. It was right there.
Tadeusz explained that one day in 1942, Nazi soldiers visited the house on a tip. Someone
in the village had told them that the family had been harboring Jewish people. There were
supposed to be 10 Skoczylas living in the house. On this particular day, the youngest boy in
the family was not home when the soldiers came by. The Nazis grew suspicious and began
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tearing the house apart. They found the hole and the crawl space, but the Jewish people
the family had been hiding were not there. They had already moved on.
Without saying a word, the Nazis went next door to a neighboring family and took their
young son. The punishment for hiding Jews was death for the entire family, and they had a
quota to fill.
The soldiers took all 10 people out back and executed them right in front of those barns
and shacks that are still standing there today.
When the little Skoczylas boy returned home, he found his entire family dead.
That little boy was Tadeusz’s grandfather. The house stayed in the Skoczylas family, and his
grandfather lived in it. Now Tadeusz and his mother live in it.
I couldn’t believe it. And as I walked through the rest of the house, this feeling sort of took
over me. There was all this history right in front of me. And it was real. I could reach out
and touch it. I could feel it between my fingers and smell it in the air. It was a tangible
thing.
I took that trip just a few months ago. It was my first time in Poland. I went there to learn
more about something that had fascinated me since I was a teenager: the Holocaust. I’d
read so many books and articles about it, but reading words on a page is not the same thing
as seeing things up close.
Then I visited the Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C., for the first time. It was 1998,
and I was playing for the Milwaukee Bucks. I was in D.C. meeting our owner, Herb Kohl,
over the summer. We had some time free time on my last day in the city, and Mr. Kohl
suggested we go to the Holocaust Museum on the National Mall. I’ll never forget how I felt
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after those two hours in there — I could have spent two days. My immediate feeling was
that everyone needs to go there.
There was one room in particular, though, that I think about often. It’s filled with photos of
Jews from a town in Poland. The pictures line the walls and extend up toward the sky,
where light floods in from a window. Almost 90% of the people in the images were sent to
their death. Before they were taken to concentration camps or executed, they would leave
their prized possessions behind with friends or family.
The people of these Jewish communities were pushed to the absolute limit of their human
instincts. They just wanted to survive. And from that, the tales of brotherhood and
camaraderie are so awe-inspiring. It was a reminder of what the human spirit is capable of
— both for good and evil.
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2020/2/11 Why I Went to Auschwitz | By Ray Allen
https://www.theplayerstribune.com/en-us/articles/ray-allen-why-i-went-to-auschwitz 5/9
Honestly … it made me feel sort of irrelevant. Which was a strange thought to have as a
young NBA player who was supposed to be on top of the world. I was realizing that there
were things outside of my bubble that mattered so much more. I wanted my teammates to
feel that as well. So every team I played on after that, whenever we were in D.C. playing the
Wizards, I would ask our coach if we had time to go through the museum. Every visit was
different, but each guy came out thanking me for taking us there. I could see in their eyes
that they had a different perspective on life after that experience.
I thought I knew what the Holocaust was, and what it meant. I went to Poland with a few
close friends to learn more. But I wasn’t prepared for how deeply the visit would affect me.
I had seen so many documentaries and films on Auschwitz, but nothing really prepares you
for being there. The first thing I felt when I walked through those iron gates was … heavy.
The air around me felt heavy. I stood on the train tracks where the prisoners of the camp
would arrive, and I felt like I could hear the trains coming to a halt. I had to take a breath to
center myself. It was so immediate. So overwhelming.
We walked through the barracks and gas chambers and what I remember most is what I
heard: nothing. I’ve never experienced silence like that. Apart from footsteps, the complete
lack of sound was almost jarring. It’s eerie and sobering. You’re standing in these rooms
where so much death has taken place and your mind is trying to come to terms with all
that’s happened in this space.
One question keeps repeating over and over and over in your mind: How can human beings
do this to one another?
How does somebody process that? You can’t.
This is not history. This is humanity. This is now. This is a living lesson for us as a people.
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2020/2/11 Why I Went to Auschwitz | By Ray Allen
https://www.theplayerstribune.com/en-us/articles/ray-allen-why-i-went-to-auschwitz 6/9
After Tadeusz Skoczylas took us through his family’s home, I stood outside for a while by
myself, thinking about everything I had experienced.
Why do we learn about the Holocaust? Is it just so we can make sure nothing like this ever
happens again? Is it because six million people died? Yes, but there’s a bigger reason, I
think.
The Holocaust was about how human beings — real, normal people like you and me — treat
each other.
When the Skoczylas family was risking their own lives to hide people they barely knew,
they weren’t doing it because they practiced the same religion or were the same race. They
did it because they were decent, courageous human beings. They were the same as those
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2020/2/11 Why I Went to Auschwitz | By Ray Allen
https://www.theplayerstribune.com/en-us/articles/ray-allen-why-i-went-to-auschwitz 7/9
people crouched in a hole. And they knew that those people didn’t deserve what was being
done to them.
I asked myself a really tough question: Would I have done the same?
Really, would I have done the same?
When I returned home to America, I got some very disheartening messages directed
toward me on social media regarding my trip. Some people didn’t like the fact that I was
going to Poland to raise awareness for the issues that happened there and not using that
time or ener�y to support people in the black community.
I was told my ancestors would be ashamed of me.
I know there are trolls online and I shouldn’t even pay attention, but that one sort of got to
me. Because I understood where they were coming from. I understand that there are
plenty of issues in our own country right now, but they were looking at my trip the wrong
way. I didn’t go to Poland as a black person, a white person, a Christian person or a Jewish
person — I went as a human being.
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2020/2/11 Why I Went to Auschwitz | By Ray Allen
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It’s easy to say “I went to make sure these things don’t happen again.” But I went to learn
about the true reality of what happened during the Holocaust, and what we can take from
that. The people who believe that I am not spending my time the way the right way … well,
they’re missing the entire point. We shouldn’t label people as this thing or that thing.
Because by doing so, you create these preconceived notions, which is how we get into
these horrible situations in the first place.
We have to do a better job breaking through ignorance and the close-mindedness and the
divisions that are plaguing our society in 2017.
I remember being a kid in elementary school, and we all used to have a couple pen pals
from around the world. I was so excited to hear back from people in different countries. I
wanted to know about how they lived. I was curious about their lives. And I feel like we’ve
lost that a little bit. It seems like now, we only see us. We only want to look out for us.
Whatever us even means.
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2020/2/11 Why I Went to Auschwitz | By Ray Allen
https://www.theplayerstribune.com/en-us/articles/ray-allen-why-i-went-to-auschwitz 9/9
Ray Allen
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I think about the Tadeusz family. Who did they define as us?
They saw us as every human being, regardless of what they looked like, or what they
believed. They thought everyone was worth protecting. And they were willing to die for it.
That is something worth remembering, always.
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