What I should have said...

Last night at the party when you were disparaging the various neighbourhoods of our city, it seemed harmless enough (haven't we all made fun of the North End at some point or another?). But then when you were laughing you ass off about how funny it is to drive through North Central early in the morning looking at all the "crack-heads" coming off their highs, shaking in the middle of the road, I should have taken a cue from my friend who recently had an encounter with a douchebag with similar ideas about the inhumanity of addicts and said:

"That man is someone's son, perhaps someone's brother or uncle or father. That man is someone to someone even though he is no one to you. He is a person. As a child, he did not dream of one day becoming an addict so that he could entertain you on the way to your job. Something has gone terribly wrong for him and it is my hope that should something go terribly wrong for you, that some passerby will choose to extend a hand in help or at the very least take a moment to consider how lucky he is rather than kick you while you are down."

But I didn't say that. Instead, I sat there uncomfortably, hoping my raised eyebrows were enough to express my disagreement. After all, we were in polite company and I didn't want to turn my friend's party into something political. As if my silence were somehow neutral.

It is so funny to me that on the same day Oprah featured the authors of Tweak and Beautiful Boy in order to highlight the tragedy of addiction that this conversation would arise. Once again, apparently it is only tragic if you are of the middle class-- if things were supposed to go differently for you. If people could have predicted your descent into addiction at your birth (because of your socio-economic status or family situation), it is not tragic. You are simply meeting your destiny as perceived by the privileged. You do not deserve our empathy because you had it coming.

My aforemention friend did say something to that effect when she stumbled upon a facebook photoalbum in which a friend was tagged that included the following photos:

A homeless man passed out on a bench.
A couple of middle-class white males posing with the homeless man, mocking him.
The mcwm's posing with their bare asses next to his face.
The mcwm's dragging the man into their apartment building.
The mcwm's with the man in the elevator.
The mcwm's pretending to unrinate on the man.

My friend did not know the creator of the album personally but did send him a message letting him know what she thought of it all.

This ability to distance ourselves from those "not like us"-- to deny others humanity-- is responsible for virtually every injustice in this world-- from genocide to the murders of Pamela George and Larry Moser. How is it that last night I was able to convince myself that it was harmless enough for me to sit silent? I know better and I could hardly sleep for the guilt. All I can do is write this entry and promise myself that next time I'll say what I should say.