The Activist Gene

As I drove to the hospital for my monthly OB appointment, I noticed much ado about something from afar.  When I got close enough to the fracas, I could clearly see a group of about 30-40 individuals (today the paper says 70 so either I or they are poor estimators) holding signs with several police cars nearby.  The group included men, women and more than you'd think of the twelve and under crowd holding signs against the evils of abortion, signs protesting a certain doctor with hospital privileges who performs abortions and all of the other ones you'd expect from this group about the sanctity of life, the rights of the unborn and the certain damnation of those who don't heed their warning.

As uncomfortable as I was, I still felt safe within the relative anonymity of my car.  This group of anti-abortion activists didn't single me out even though I was on my way to an appointment at the OB/GYN practice where this very doctor is one of several partners (who, I will admit, I don't schedule appointments with because of his very public support of world population control.  I just don't see how you can be in the business of doctoring women who are having babies while being against their baby's soon-to-be existence because the planet, in your opinion, is over populated.  I would rather pay someone to help in the delivery who is or can fake their happiness for my new bundle of joy).  It wasn't until I was making my way into the office and saw MORE uniformed police officers standing guard, just in case, that I became slightly worried and very annoyed.

My thoughts throughout the remainder of the day have frequently returned to my reaction to this small group of crusaders.  It's not just what they protesting against, or where they were doing it, although both of those things mattered today as I don't think anyone, including myself, should be harassed or bothered while seeking out any kind of medical treatment (Get out of my way!  I didn't drink that nasty orange glucose syrup for nothing!), it's that they were protesting period.  Is this really the best way to bring attention to your cause?

Looking back throughout history, I suppose the answer is often, "yes."  I think about the women who chained themselves to buildings to bring attention to the suffrage movement and how grateful I am for the right to vote.  I think about the non-violent actions of those involved in the fight for civil rights in the South and how the country needed to wake up from decades of injustice.  Time has shown that those were battles that needed to be won and it wasn't going to happen by everyone minding their own business.

Still, I wonder if I would have had the gumption to join in.  You see, my hours of introspection today have made me realize that I am not a comfortable activist.  The thought of trying to persuade or convince someone to believe what I believe or do what I do, based solely on the merits of my beliefs or actions being right - even if I could prove that they are - is repellent to me.   To do so seems not only presumptuous but also terribly self-important.  I'm of the camp that considers opinions and advice most effective when asked to give them.  And while that persuasion may protect me most of the time from the ridicule of the opposing view, it also limits my voice as well as my influence.

For the most part, I am fine with that.  I have realized that even if I passionately think Tupperware superior to Rubbermaid or circuit training more effective than jazzercize, I wouldn't be good at selling either.  Because that's what activists do - sell the world their point of view.  From what they think should or shouldn't be legal, the humanity of an animal's environment or the kind of food that's safe to eat, there is a driving force to convince others to think the same.  Some people seem to be born with that activist gene.  If they believe in something or know about something great or horrible, by golly, you're going to hear about it.  I've never felt that need or that duty to share.

The guilt comes when asked to be an activist.  It might be a stretch to compare my aversion to today's abortion protesters to the commandment to share the gospel, but my unwillingness to infringe on another's life philosophy is nearly as firm as my reluctance to use crappy toilet paper because it's better for the environment.  It seems as if I'm ashamed or embarrassed by my beliefs, but that is not the case.  I don't think there are many who have met me who don't quickly learn that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I believe it to be true.  I believe that everyone deserves the happiness and peace that comes from the knowledge of its truths.   But that hyperlink was an effort to include.  I'm counting on the fact that if you're reading this, you are, by default, asking me for my opinion:)

I think the best missionaries have that activist gene.  Even in the scriptures, some of the best missionaries were activists for the other side before they converted.  There is a passion and a fervor given to some.  Not me.

Sometimes, like today, when I think of the zealots who intimidate and harass outside of hospitals or clinics or, worse, funerals of soldiers, I am content to be the type who lets things be.

Other times, I wish I had that gene.