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Subject: On the Power of Forgiveness
Date: Wed, 24 Mar 1999 18:58:49 EST
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Continuing to Celebrate 20 Years of Life
In response to the 1st person Column of the Americas I wrote last week, I
received many special messages from many of our regular readers and from many
long-lost friends. Because most of the messages were of a personal nature, I
did not want to take the liberty to print them (unless I'm given permission).
What I did want to say is that many people were intrigued with how I was able
to overcome the hate I was consumed with for many years. Some readers also
wanted to know how after all the hell I lived could I (we) write with a sense
of fairness and compassion. I would like to think that precisely because what
I've lived -- what we have lived -- allows us to write in such a manner.
What I wanted to do here is share a special piece I recently wrote on the
power of forgiveness -- as part of a larger work by several authors on the
same subject. This perhaps helps better explain my thoughts -- thoughts I
don't think I was able to compress into a 700-word column. The thoughts have
not gone through editors and hope they make sense.
And incidentally, for my 20th anniversary of survival (March 23-25), I did
pray, write, paint, sing and dance... and I was able speak with long-ago
friends who have never let down the bandera. For all those who sent messages,
and for all those who have been part of my life, thanks...
Sinceramente
Roberto Rodriguez
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On the Power of Forgiveness
by Roberto Rodriguez
My own frame of my mind on the subject of forgiveness is that of a survivor of
police violence -- a survivor of a vicious attack against me twenty years ago
by four or five club-welding Los Angeles Sheriff�s deputies. This attack --
which was precipitated by my witnessing and photographing the brutal beating
of another young man -- resulted in a cracked skull, hospitalization, my
jailing and criminal charges that I attempted to kill the officers that almost
killed me.
My frame of mind is that also of someone who survived threats to my life,
several dozen subsequent detentions and arrests and two trials that lasted
seven-and-a-half years. The initial incident involved receiving perhaps 30-40
blows all over my body, with the most serious ones to my head, including a
headstrike to my forehead.
As a result of all this, the officers never went to prison and to my
knowledge, they were all promoted. By law, I am prevented from finding out if
any of them were ever disciplined. As for myself, to this day, I am diagnosed
as suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The upside is that I write a
nationally syndicated column and that I�ve written several books.
To this day, I remember the words of Hugh Mane, a Los Angeles attorney
specializing in police brutality cases. At a conference years ago, regarding
people who receive headstrikes from riot sticks, he said: �Lucky are the ones
who die.� I can absolutely attest to this because my life became hell after
the attack. I was but 24 years old then, and more than anything, I believe my
youth and youthful years were robbed from me.
And the subject here is forgiveness?
Have I forgiven, or do I need to forgive the deputies who almost took my life,
the ones who threatened me, the ones who in the middle of the night made me
believe they were driving me to my final destination? Have I forgiven the
other officers who constantly pursued me and falsely arrested me, or the
district attorney who filed charges against me or the prosecutors who tried
to put me away? Have I forgiven the politicians who literally created this
environment and who would not touch me with a ten-foot pole when I pleaded to
them for help, or the media who painted me as a criminal? How about my own
lawyer who abandoned my case seven years after the incident and two days
before trial? Have I forgiven him?
The answer is no. But I don�t feel like I need to, at least not publicly.
Maybe it�s something I should do. I�ve never really dwelled on all these
tormentors. I�ve moved on. To be truthful, if I was asked to forgive them in a
public forum, I would, because it wouldn�t take much from me. It�s not a
burden on me because in all these years, I have discovered that my healing can
only take place when I embark on a road to my own re-humanization.
Rehumanization. That�s the antithesis of dehumanization. Rehumanization for me
is something bigger than forgiveness, yet forgiveness -- which I believe I
have done so within my spirit -- I see as absolutely one critical element in
the rehumanization process.
We can not be fully human if we have hate within us, if we are consumed in
anger, bitterness and harbor resentment. These emotions actually define our
lives. They deprive us of truly living as full human beings. So for those who
have been brutalized and dehumanized, getting rid of these debilitating
emotions is fundamental to our healing. But leaving them behind must be
accompanied by a search of what it actually means to be human.
I can truly say that 20 years after I was nearly killed, I have finally begun
that search. I have begun to live, smile, laugh and love life once again. I
arrived at this life- condition, partly through prayer and meditation, and
always through the pursuit of justice.
I have always been politically active. When I was nearly killed, I fought back
politically and I fought back in the legal arena -- winning both trials. But I
did not know how to fight back in a spiritual sense. I was simply concerned
with winning politically and in the courtroom, without tending to my physical,
mental or spiritual health. I didn�t begin to take care of myself until about
17 years after the nightmare began.
One evening, while speaking to a group of youngsters about my trials and
tribulations on the streets and in the courtroom, my vocal chords literally
froze on me, rendering me unable to speak. I knew then that whatever was wrong
with me was more serious than I had ever imagined. I can�t describe here the
long road to my recovery and healing, other than to say that that�s what
finally led me to get diagnosed with PTSD. Additionally, I began to meditate
at that time.
On my birthday in 1998, a friend prayed over me and within minutes of leaving,
I began to sing. I hadn�t done that in 29 years. A few months later, I started
to paint. That�s when I first started to feel that I had finally begun to
regain my humanity. Nowadays, I sing at rest homes and senior centers. (I
recently held an Agustin Lara concert in Albuquerque, which was a tribute to
the elders of our community). I�m not completely recovered from my traumas,
yet I can say I smile and laugh more and I also make others laugh and smile.
This is a far-cry from when I hated virtually everyone, particularly whites
and cops.
All this has happened with little regard to all the tormentors I previously
mentioned. They seem irrelevant to me. I harbor no hatred or desire no ill-
will toward them. But truthfully, I do not know if they continue to torment or
brutalize others. Yet, the reason I have no discernible hate toward them is
because hate previously defined, controlled and consumed my life... not
theirs. If I saw any of them today, I don�t know how I would react to them.
They mean little to me. Yet, at one level, part of my recovery process does in
fact allow me to forgive them, for if not for their actions, I�m not sure
where my life would have taken me. If I hadn�t lived these traumas, perhaps
today I would not be writing, singing or painting and I would not have met all
the special people in my life, people that were not part of my life, previous
to the attack.
Can others in my life-condition forgive?
I don�t know. I�m not in anyone else�s shoes. If my sole question was whether
to forgive or not, perhaps I would say I wouldn�t forgive unless they repented
first, unless they apologized first. Yet, the question of forgiveness is not
my biggest concern. It�s my own rehumanization path that concerns me more.
Sometimes that path is difficult and other times it�s exciting. I would gladly
forgive them in public if it would help me become a better human being and if
it would help them become more human or good human beings.
But again, I don�t know that I would do it just to do it. It has to be part of
my rehumanization process. And I do believe now that my rehumanization does
not require an apology from any of them.
Sometimes I wonder where my bitterness and hatred have gone? Are they gone
because I emerged victorious in the courtroom, twice? Sometimes I feel that
the hatred and bitterness are filed away somewhere in my subconsciousness,
where bad memories are reposited. Actually, they probably reside somewhere
even deeper.
It�s odd. I feel like I actually am one of the lucky ones. After all, I indeed
was victorious in my criminal and federal civil rights trial. The deputies
were in fact found to have violated my civil rights. Unfortunately, I know and
have met lots of people who have been brutalized. For some of them, their
only consolation is that their charges were dropped. Many more, from America�s
barrios and ghettos, are viciously beaten and sent to hospitals, jails and
prisons under the pretext of �assaulting officers.� Their consolation? That
they weren�t killed?
This happens daily and helps explain what happened in Los Angeles in 1992,
after the Rodney King verdict. Because these abuses have not stopped, there�s
lots of bitterness out on America�s streets, especially when those who have
been brutalized and falsely imprisoned return to the streets. Some are
zombies. Others are walking time-bombs, untreated and filled with hate, ready
to explode. And they do explode. Sadly, they usually explode against people
closest to them, particularly, family, spouses, friends and neighbors.
Can they forgive? Are they in a position to forgive? More than forgive, they
need to be treated. But part of the treatment should require a societal
apology in the manner of justice. But justice alone will not suffice nor will
it medically heal those in need of psychological help. Today, that�s what we
have out on the streets -- tens of thousands of young wounded brothers and
sisters without justice and without medical treatment, roaming the streets --
full of anger and in a predator mode... usually one step removed from prison
or death -- their own or someone else�s.
Brutality and injustice breeds anger, hatred and resentment. I would argue
that it also leads to the killing of the spirit. In effect, total
dehumanization.
I dwell on this because this is not not a personal tragedy, but a societal
one, equivalent to an out-of-control disease. The drive to build more prisons
creates the pressure not to treat people, but to incarcerate as many and as
long as possible.
Forgiveness in this realm appears to be something not even relevant. At best,
it seems to be a luxury. It seems not possible to have forgiveness without
justice, and in these cases, without physical, mental and spiritual healing.
Without justice, it�s like victory without satisfaction.
Yet, precisely because there is injustice and precisely because these
conditions will continue to exist into the foreseeable future, those
individuals who have been brutalized and dehumanized need to heal on their own
-- without waiting for a governmental apology or assistance. They need to be
treated and need to find their own path to their own rehumanization. Of
course, those who can assist in this process, have a duty to step forward.
Otherwise, they�re condemned to a perpetual hell of torment and bitterness.
Like forgiveness, rehumanization requires no apologies, nor does it require
justice. Of course, it doesn�t preclude the need to struggle for justice.
Rehumanization in this context is about those who have been brutalized. It�s
for their own spiritual health -- not the health of the brutalizers.
If forgiveness helps those who have been brutalized -- and I believe it does
-- then it should be incorporated into their rehumanization process. Yet, to
forgive can not mean to fold ones� arms and go merrily home. It simply means
that as one struggles to regain ones� humanity and as one continues to fight
for ones� rights, one can do so without the anger, hate and bitterness.
As people who who have forgiven know, it�s more peaceful to live life with the
ability to laugh and smile, then to live a life of total resentment.
But in all this, as people who know about trauma, you don�t simply treat the
person who has been brutalized or traumatized. You also must treat the
brutalizers -- the perpetrators. As a a society, we have learned this from war
veterans who have killed -- and from soldiers who have tortured.
The torturers and the brutalizers can be forgiven by all of us, and that can
help us to regain our own humanity, but given the reality we live, it is fair
to ask, when will they be treated? When will they get on their path to their
own rehumanization process? If they never repent and never apologize --
chances are they will continue to be out on the streets, continuing to wreak
more havoc, continuing to destroy more spirits in the process.
Forgive? Absolutely. We can do this while we attempt to take them to court
and while we seek treatment for them -- so they can be treated for their
dehumanization.
In Tlanezia In Tonatiuh
May Your Sun Shine Brightly
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Tsonkwadiyonrat (We are ONE Spirit)
Unenh onhwa' Awayaton
http://www.tdi.net/ishgooda/
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