Why We Stand Up Against Poverty (and Everything Else We Do)

“How do you maintain hope?” a cocksure voice crowed, deep from within the crowd of more than 200 people.

Needless to say, this guy’s question made for an awkward beginning to what was meant to be an informal question-and-answer segment after the hour-long speaker portion of our STAND UP AGAINST POVERTY program.

We were expecting something more along the lines of, “How do I sign up to be a volunteer?” Or “Will we really be counted for a Guinness World Record tonight?” Anything specific, we were prepared for. But not “How do you maintain hope?”

The way this guy said it––exasperatedly on the ‘how,’ yet edged with a rueful sincerity in the ‘hope’––confused us event organizers, and the podium sat empty while we all pondered for a moment.

“Is he kidding?” I thought to myself.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure… at least until the muffled chatter slowed and the clanking of china plates ceased, giving way to a pointed silence.

This guy’s not joking.

I don’t think any of us––especially the dozen or so core volunteers who’d spent the better part of two months planning our festive event to mark the UN’s International Day for the Eradication of Poverty––expected such a question to arise while the motivational words of our speakers still lingered in the air.

After all, Derreck Kayongo had just briefed us on his life’s journey from Ugandan refugee to CARE USA executive; Fredricka Whitfield reminisced about her childhood in the suburbs of Nairobi in comparison to her current job as CNN news anchor; Emory’s Director of African Studies, Pamela Scully, created vivid analogies out of Cape Town cab rides to shed light on the real reasons behind South Africa’s socio-economic disparity; Melissa Fay Greene delivered a humorous, impactful keynote about the time she traveled to Addis Ababa to pick up her then newly-adopted daughter (an Ethiopian AIDS orphan); and I, Atlanta Leader of ONE: THE CAMPAIGN TO MAKE POVERTY HISTORY, talked about “Armchair Activism” and how even the simplest actions we take as ONE really do make a difference.

Weren’t our signup sheets, letters to senators, and micro-credit marketplace goods scattered throughout the venue proof enough that hope is being maintained tonight?

Those of us behind the podium looked at each other.

“Should I get up there and say something funny?” I wondered to myself, as I stared at the still-empty podium. “If only I had a copy of my favorite ‘hope’ speech of all time (Jesse Jackson’s oft-mocked but undeniably powerful, ‘Keep Hope Alive,’ delivered at the 1988 Democratic Convention here in Atlanta), I could whip it out and really do some rousing,” I fantasized.

But it was too late.

The hope question zapped our heretofore-momentous mood with laser-like precision. And as the seconds passed, one by one, so markedly we could almost hear them tick-tock, everyone came to the same realization:

This guy has a point.

How do you maintain hope when the overwhelming statistics 99X’s Matt Jones read earlier (in his perfect radio voice) are so staggering?

28,000 children under the age of five in the developing world dying EVERY DAY from poverty and preventable disease?

How can so much of the world languish under––née, perish from––such extreme poverty, while we drink our Merlots and Rieslings here in the Mason Murer Gallery, as city lights twinkle through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows?

We couldn’t stall any longer. This guy deserved an answer.

So, how do you maintain hope?

Melissa Fay Greene stepped back up to the microphone.

Matter-of-factly, she launched comfortably into an unprepared reply to this guy’s question. It was moving and factual, reminiscent of a great piece she’d written for the New York Times Magazine a few years back. Something about a mother who’d lost a child to AIDS, yet decided to take in orphans, and knew of other women who’d done the same. And there could never be too many orphans, as long as there was hope. Or something to that effect.

For all of Greene’s eloquence and professionalism, the details of her answer escaped me. Her words quickly melted into the kind of nonsensical, nasal “wah-wahs” and “Yip-yips” made famous by Charlie Brown’s teacher and Sesame Street Muppets, respectively.

It wasn’t her fault I was zoning. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t eaten a complete meal in 24 hours (no, I hadn’t joined the political fast; I’d been too busy setting up tables and chairs and candles for the event to make time for food). Or maybe I was selfishly enjoying the brief cognitive paralysis that occurs when someone grants you an unexpected reprieve from public speaking.

All I could do was focus on the crowd.

Like a less contrived, updated version of Norman Rockwell’s famous painting, Do Unto Others, the colorful group could hardly be more diverse: jean-clad high school students, sleek young professionals, white-haired Buckhead benefactor types with expensive handbags, Consul Generals, local press, stay-at-home-moms, lawyers, ONE and CARE volunteers in their T-shirts, and a large contingent of beautiful African Atlantans. And all were staring, with intense eyes focused on the podium, waiting for the clincher.

How do you maintain hope?

Greene’s rebuttal wasn’t short and sweet, but effective nonetheless.

I wish I could remember her exact quotes, yet, quite frankly, I don’t even know if it would matter. Isn’t any example about maintaining hope valid? Isn’t hope, like love, one of the universal concepts to which all humans can relate?

Greene hadn’t so much rescued us from this guy’s question as delivered us back to the original purpose for the evening: to STAND UP and celebrate the hope that we have for the eradication of poverty in our lifetimes.

Hope isn’t just about changing the numbers or statistics. It’s about knowing there’s work to be done and hopeful people to do it. There are human lives to save and hopeful medicines to save them. There are girls and women to educate and hopeful schools to build for them. And so on.

So, to Melissa Fay Greene––and everyone at the gallery–––I say, “thank you.”

And, to this guy with the hope question:

Thanks for coming. And thanks for asking, because if we can’t answer a simple question about hope, then where are we? Who are we?

As The Lost Boys of Sudan segued us from the Q&A into their set of optimistic Afropop, I realized this guy’s question about hope was the best part of our whole STAND UP AGAINST POVERTY event. It made each of us realize that we weren’t here for the donated whole smoked salmon or the dark chocolate truffles or even the great music.

We gathered at this place on this evening because of hope.

We can accomplish many things as ONE, but the most important thing we can do is always––always––maintain hope.

By Kristi York Wooten, ONE Atlanta October 17, 2007