By Kim Porter

Dear Neighbor,

She was in her 90s, sitting in a rocker, smoking a cigarette. Her home was old, worn, but warm. Her story was moving and tore my heart apart. She lived on the island of Vieques, Puerto Rico. In the 1940s, our government came to her door and told her parents their house would be torn down and they were to be moved to the center of the island. She followed with her cow the day they tore down her home, placed the wood on a flatbed, and dropped it on their new land, in the center of the island.

I came to know her because I had heard we (USA) tried to move the 20,000 inhabitants to the main island, but 10,000 refused. Why? Because we (USA) needed a place to practice bombing during WWII. This beautiful island was chosen. I personally didn’t believe it — not my country, not my democracy, not my free world.

As I entered Vieques, by ferry, I was met by islanders anxious to explain their plight some 80 years later. This is when I met this delightful, humorous, wrinkled, stubborn old lady. She shared her story and asked that I join her tomorrow at the demonstration at the entrance of the Army base, to stop the bombing and possibly get arrested.

I showed up, and there she was. She grabbed my arm, walked me to the base entrance and crossed the painted line, which meant she could be arrested. I stopped. I couldn’t get arrested. I had a job. I was a professional. I might be fired. I slowly backed.

She walked forward, proudly had handcuffs placed on her, turned and said to me, “it is OK, you might do it one day for us. It is our struggle.”

Let’s face it, these islanders had been doing this for decades and nothing had changed.

Children were in school, churches held services, babies were being born — and still the bombs were being dropped just 2-3 miles away. But, how bad could it be? We know today that the islanders have twice the chance of getting cancer, because Agent Orange was being experimented with. Children are born today with the chance of birth defects three times that on the main island. And today, the waters are so polluted that fishermen find it difficult to make a living. It is difficult to find fish that are not toxic.

I returned home an embarrassed man. All I could think of was what the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard said: “If anyone on the verge of action should judge himself according to the outcome he would never begin.” Many times I was told, “Porter, it won’t change anything, why keep demonstrating, you are wasting your time.” I had to ask myself what was important.

As they chanted weeks later in Vieques — “la lucha” — the struggle — I too followed M. L. King’s direction. I did my research, gathered information, spoke to my Congresswoman, and returned to the island. This really did happen. People were forced off their land.

The struggle was the reason I would return. I was not optimistic, not much hope, but I knew it was important to be a part of “la lucha” (the struggle).

I ask myself often, is it worthwhile to demonstrate, go to city council, attend a vigil.

Women for Community Justice held a vigil this summer to remind all of us that some treacherous things happen in our society — like a woman killed by a police officer, for holding a pot of hot water. No, it probably didn’t change much, but these women felt “the struggle” to address such issues was extremely important. They did not judge themselves according to the outcome. They stood for what is right — they knew there was an injustice that needed a voice. And it needed it that day.

So, why do I continue to support those who raise the conscious level of injustices?

Because it is the inner struggle of my value system that nudges me to that end. It is not that I will win, but that I will participate in “la lucha.”

“Dear Neighbor” authors are united in a belief that civility and passion can coexist. We believe curiosity and conversation make us a better community.