Injustice and Motivation

In my life thus far, I have been fortunate not to have been subjected to any direct form of injustice. In my life I have seen enough injustice to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. It would seem that we as a species have found it easier to select the path of injustice over one of truth, compassion, and justice. So much for that, those concepts are unfortunately idealized but life always gives opportunity for redemption. Sometimes the little we can do as individuals counts for something so great that for that one brief moment we can move mountains.

I work at the DC Public Defender Service and by nature I am witness to injustice after injustice. However recently I have experienced an injustice so cruel and uncaring that it blew me out of the water. My story begins with a man. He is 61 years old and has served 33 years of a life sentence in Maryland. His crimes are unpleasant as you can imagine, but they serve no purpose to this story. Besides his Maryland crimes, this man also stood trial in Washington, DC and was sentenced to a minimum of 15 years for that crime. His DC sentence was set to run consecutive to his Maryland case. Now 33 years later my client is faced with a greater problem than prison. He is dying. Slowly. With each breath he takes through his ventilator he drowns a little more in his own fluids.

My client has been sick now since August. For longer than that he has been alone. The little family he had stopped caring for him a long ago. He does not even have someone that can act on his behalf in a power-of-attorney capacity. In August his medical issues became so severe that he was removed from the prison he was in and placed in constant care at a regional hospital. A photo of him above his bed tells the tale: in August he had a round face, bushy beard, and a smile. The man in front of me is gaunt and grey. The bones on his sunken face highlight his pain-filled eyes. He spends his day sitting in a cot, unable to speak due to the trach tube in his throat and he is too weak to even write. The only noises in his room are the machine's mechanical symphony pushing moist air into his frail chest. Two Maryland Department of Corrections officers sit outside his room armed with guns. He is not allowed a television because he is still “incarcerated”. He is not even allowed to take off his plastic zip-tie handcuffs that loosely encompass his boney wrists.

The State of Maryland no longer wants this man. He is costing them far too much. In a desperate plea, officials contacted DC Superior Court in an effort to get him paroled to his DC sentence due to his existing detainer. Maryland officials figured it would work just fine to dump him in the Bureau of Prisons; probably at FMC Springfield out in Missouri. When my office got notification from DC Superior Court about this case, we immediately sprung into action. Why not work to get the US Attorney and DC Superior Court to agree to lift the detainer on this man? With only a few months to live, why not let him die with a little bit of dignity in some community hospital rather than in a prison?

The injustice here is a combination of things. On one hand, we have laws that clearly spell out a sentence, a term for which this man must be held by the state as punishment. On the other hand, he has become a pawn in a game of finances. The prisons have an obligation to care for those under their supervision. In this case it is the bare minimum. In this man's suffering he has only seen indifference. The basics of human compassion are absent and in their stead is a void. Our office does not have to assist this man. He will probably be dead by the time you read this and before much of the legal leg work can get started. Even under those auspices, we still will work on this case because we owe nothing more to this man than responding to the call of moral obligation. I am working on this case of injustice because I believe that in the waning days of this man's life, he deserves to be human. No one deserves to die a criminal, that is such a harsh stigma. This man is no exception but sadly there is no clear provision to assist this man outside of fighting to free him from his detainer. And if that is the righteous fight then that fight is well worth effort. For this man and for the one that comes after him.

Duality Identity

We all have struggled and thirsted to answer questions. We have flown into the darkness and space and solved complicated riddles that have eaten at the human race for decades. And yet all of it, the entire body of knowledge that we have amassed and will amass is nothing when we pause to realize we have so little knowledge of ourselves. We do not look inward beyond that which we see. I would dare to submit that what we do see is just an idealized picture of what we want to believe we are. Underneath that is our true selves. Because we hold on to the idealization and permanently maintain the true self, we are in a constant state of conflict and the selves we have created are also in a constant state of conflict. This is what I will call duality identity.

Duality identity is not a mental illness like multiple personality disorder. It is just a part of who we are and our development. It is a an ongoing and fluid process; ever evolving based on collective experiences. It is also not what some would term "the animal inside us." Far from that actually. The animal inside us never changes because it is based on the primal hardwiring we all share. Duality identity is, as I stated, an aggregation of experience dispersed over who/what we are and who/what we perceive our self to be. I cannot give a more specific definition than that because duality identity is unique to each of us and something that only each of us can find though self discovery. If you dare to look that close. And not that you have to. Consider this: every time you consciously make an effort to go out of person, to be something or someone else for work, relationship etc, you are allowing duality identity to rear its head and act.

I do not know why or how duality identity is created. I feel however that it is a form of protection based on our aggregated experiences. Like a protective exoskeleton, it shields the internal contents of self. Perhaps this is out of our fear of ostracization or rejection based on the real self. Perhaps it is out of our own selfish ego that we create duality identity so that we can sell our self to ourselves with more fanfare. Maybe it is both?

I can speak of duality identity because I am witness to it in myself. My duality is not your duality and the degree to which is inhabits our lives varies extensively. Insomuch that I understand my own duality identity, I will try to explain it so that you too can experience the true self and the other self:

I am a man that lives between two worlds. These worlds are as distinct from each other as they blend like the meeting place of a Venn Diagram. At face value, I am a smile, a warm individual, and for the most part socially acceptable. This public face is one that is quite natural because 90% of the time this is what the world will see and I have found it is what the world accepts best. I, just like you, use this identity as a means to relate with the bluest of collars and the bluest of bloods. It is all about affability which seems to be the consensus across the masses. We want to be able to operate as functional actors and in some ways we must act like functional actors in order to survive.


There are signs at this level that should clue you into my duality. My tattoos, my scars, my ever changing hair. All are tidbits that offer a portal to the other world. We all have them. It can be an item of jewelry, a nervous tic, or habit. They are the crumbs on a trail that lead to where the duality identity resides.


I am a man that lives between to worlds. Deep beneath the surface is a cooler identity. This is the man is calculating and closely rational. This man has seen pain and love. This man has seen death and torture and lived to remember it with crystal clarity. I keep this man shrouded because it is an input-output machine and its propensity for being unable to feel is as great as my desire to survive. I laughs at cynicism and fear only two things: God and letting my other half, the other identity, get the better of me. This is Achilles Heel, if the other identity enters unchecked into this world, I fear vulnerability. In order to safeguard that, I keep the physical world around in constant check by balancing the duality identity against one another. If I was purely one I would be a lie, but if I was purely the other, I would be the lone wolf. This is the same for all of us in some form or fashion.


Duality identity is our clothing. We put on what we need to in order to manage life. It may not be stylish but like a good raincoat it is functional. So I ask you readers, look into your life and see where your duality identity lies. What is it made of? Where did it come from? How does it serve you?

Risk not, want not?

Risk. It is the quantifiable likelihood of loss. Which is down right machine-like and numerical. The definition is satisfactory if you consider the face value of risk. Most likely we all consider loss of money, loss of property, or really anything taken away as a subtraction from the whole. It is, for lack of better analogies, the removal of n. In light of that, is it fair to say that risk can also be the qualitative likelihood of loss? And for that matter, does the least amount of risk always lead to the least amount of wanting (and thus safer route through life)?

In and of itself risk is subjective. Each of us assesses risk from our own unique point of view. I may see the loss of $500 dollars as a large risk while my wealthy uncle may consider that pennies in the the pot. This is all opinion and of course, a highly generic example. I would also submit that risk is something that varies, like chaos, through time and space while becoming all just a matter of circumstance. Which is why I believe that risk holds a qualitative aura about it too. Sure, the loss of a friend from a group of friends is a quantifiable measure. But can you quantify the loss of a friendship? Is there some numerical measure to that? Likewise can you quantify matters of the heart? Is there some magic number to love, hate, etc? I do not think there is and because of that there is part of risk that can never be understood by a loss of value n.

There is another factor to consider with risk and that is fear. Much like a square is always a rectangle but a rectangle is not always a square, fear always has an element of risk but risk does not always involve fear. Fear, by the way, is alway subjective in nature and for obvious reasons. When we engage in risky behavior we do so with an aim towards reward (and one that gets exaggerated in our minds because of the risk). Fear exacerbates this. It is clear fear and risk are in their own right motivators but they also pull us back from engaging in activities.

I think my point here is that the closer risk gets to causing us emotional harm, the less inclined we are to engage in the activity. This is an important distinction because I feel that we will much more readily jump into a physically risky situation or one where the result does not leave some emotional scar. As perviously stated, fear exacerbates this. Consider the following: a man is willing to tattoo his body, put himself on the line, and push the envelope. He is a risk taker in the truest sense of the word and so are his friends. However he is wary and concerned over risking his emotional self for the sake of love. He absolutely fears the damage that can be done. There is a certain hypocrisy in his point of view but it is so well built in that he tiptoes around the very subject. Furthermore there is a woman who plays her cards well and has put her neck out on the line to make a success out of herself. In the same token she rather lose it all than be burned at the emotional stake.

I wish I could give an explanation as to why we do not take emotional risks. I can venture to speculate and I think it may have to do with the fact that emotions are so deeply personal. If risk and fear are subjective, then the concept of emotion and what makes up emotion, are inexorably tied to our "me". It must be as in-grained as our fight or flight mechanism because we will go out of our way and do irrational things to preserve that "me" as an intact piece.

Emotional risk taking is healthy. In reality it makes us stronger and shows us the true test of our mettle. Taking a calculated emotional risk opens us up to other concepts such as trust, loyalty, and peace. None of these we can truly know by playing it safe. It is impossible to do so because we would lack the metric of joy and suffering. Risk does not always payoff, that is the point whether is be a quantified or qualified cost. We need the scars because we gain wisdom from them and in turn they help make for educated decision making as opposed to irrational-fear driven decision making.

So my dear readers, take a chance today. Boldly go where you are afraid to go emotionally and find that the adventure is not as bad as your mind will lead you to believe. Reach out and touch your "me".

First comes love, then comes marriage? Not so much anymore.

Conversations and topics come is waves. They are in some respects, as regular as the tide which makes for writing about them after the fact all the more entertaining. And it thus that I found two successive days of discussion over the sobering and conflict-laden topic of sex, love, and marr... edit ... commitments. I don't want to use the 'M' word. Not yet, loaded with too much insinuation.

I digress. Back to the point...

Prior to be called back to work for an emergency on Thursday evening, as the storm clouds cleared into a beautiful, sun-kissed autumn evening, I found myself seated at Greenberry's drinking tea and chatting with two very different (and yet similar individuals). One was a woman in her mid fifties and the other was a scruffy, unshaven man in his later fifties. Their differences are striking. The woman is undoubtedly charming in her manner and a comfortable to converse with. She is a social creature in the truest sense of the word. The man on the other hand, in complicated. He is in many regards the opposite of the woman. An admitted aficionado of women, he is visually as gorgeous as scarred earth in Death Valley. However, in a very charlatan way he is charming with women and well off. There in lies his key; he never holds back and can make conversation with all of them. As dirty as he may be, in its own ironic way he is an honest man- he acts as most men do and is unabashed by it. No apologies. No need for them.

Indeed, for him women are like trophies. It should come as no surprise that he is not married and can only wish he had children. But that is the price you pay for living life as a player rather than on observer. You get caught up in the game. The woman on the other hand has a family and a secure relationship. A mind blowing opposite to the man. So it caught me off guard when our conversation turned to sex, love, and commitments. Given the descriptions of the two above, you'd think that they would be as similar as oranges and hair pieces. I could not be further from validity if I tried. Both quietly looked back on their lives and began to speak, taking turns like wrestlers in a tag-team match. Both recalled how when they were my age, there was no expectation for sex and that many people waited till engagement or marriage for sex. At the very least there was assumption that only a serious relationship would garner the old "bump and grind". I found this particularly strange coming from that man, who as I stated, is pretty open on his conquests. To them, one fell in love with the other person generally long before one slept with the person.

My second conversation took place today with a very good friend of mine who I will refer to as Sing Sing. She is my age (which dear readers, is mid twenties...fair enough?) and voiced the following opinion: Sing Sing found it ironic that we usually have sex with someone long before we ever tell them we love them. I suppose you could say that if one were to compare that with the values of our parents' generation it would be akin to putting the horse before the carriage. I did not ask Sing Sing what it was that she found ironic about it, but I can surmise that it has something to do with committing and connecting. We either do not value the act of love making as we used to or we hold love to a very high esteem. I doubt it is the latter.

Our parents generation were certainly not as liberated as we are. That much is true. They were at the forefront of the changes that we see today in us, but they did not have the luxury of experiencing our freedoms. They grew up with a far different formula for romance. For their generation, and the ones proceeding theirs, love (and thus the declaration of love) was the product of being around someone, affection, and communication. It was simple but then again the times were much simpler and more conservative. A couple was expected to stay together and I believe that forced both the man and the woman to cultivate love long before sex.

We, on the other hand, have significantly more criteria in our equation. In fact, I would submit that our formula looks something like this:

love = sex(physical attraction + personality) + (commitment value/pain in the ass rating) + communicability + affection + (X1, X2, X3...)
NOTE: X is comprised of any other random variables in today's relationships.

And that my readers is damn complicated. But think about it for a second. We live in a multidimensional world. We are highly networked into so many little nooks and crannies. Because of that, factors we consider before we even say "I love you" play a much more salient role. It would seem strange if we did not filter love though our kaleidoscopic views. In some ways we have been given a gift that our parents never had. We have millions of tools at our disposal to effectively value the content of love.

In the same token, we are cursed. Much like Merton's theory of anomie, where alienation leads to deviancy, our over-saturation of metrics (and dare I say distractions) pulls us away from love and into love deviancy. Sex, in and of itself is not bad. I think we are justified in including sex in our criteria before saying those magic words to someone (and without doubt before heading into marriage). My point is that while sex was considered a taboo subject in the days of yore, it is an integral part of a relationship. What the man and the woman at Greenberry's could not understand is why we engage in it so freely without feeling committed and that is understandable. For them sex was a validation of love. For us love is validated impart through sex. We simply have expanded the framework of what is love.

So in closing, let me correct our title: First comes sex, then comes love, then comes some flavor of commitment (be it marriage, partnership, etc). It is our generation's interpretation of establishing something substantive with another individual. It may not be understood and is highly complex but it is ours to us and give to the next generation to further expand.

All is questionable in love

Guts: 1) A colloquial term for the inner contents of the stomach area.
2) A apparatus for thinking and/or thought processes (see also: heart).

A singer, I believe Tina Turner, once asked "What's love got to do with it?" Good question but I think we can all agree that in love (the concept) all is questionable. Mainly because it is an emotion and thus a chemical reaction. Ouch. That is a bit cynical. So let's revise that. Some people would submit that love is chemical and thus can be over once that reaction stops. On the other hand, there are those that believe love is eternal and much like the chameleon, ever changing and fluid. I am assuming this is what makes for long, wholesome relationships.

Love has much to do with life and many of its aspects. I think that we have to pause and see how we define how we define what love is. Which brings me to the word of the night: guts. Particularly, the second part of the definition above. So often we hear cliche little terms like "my gut tells me..." or "I am going to listen to my gut on this." (the latter of which I heard today regarding the concept of love). Evidently we have moved pretty much as a society into thinking with probably one of the most irrational parts of our body, the stomach. This is the same apparatus that makes us farty and bloated. The same part that in one fell swoop will have us on our knees in pain while heaving orange sherbet colored vomit.

We have deferred to our guts because we are afraid of the truth. I am part of this too. I am scared of the truth as much as the next person but at some point we all have to face the music. Truth is the nexus of heart and mind. Note; no guts in that equation. Perhaps ironically we have disconnected the line between our hearts and minds while at the same time cultivating a distaste for anything vaguely honest. Truth has become to us what anyone Hispanic is to Arizona: reasonably suspicious.

In the case of love, it is easy to ponder, rethink, doubt, troubleshoot, and generally misunderstand what it is. We fear it because it makes us vulnerable. The second we love we become open to heartbreak and exploitation. Both are salient fears. There is nothing worse than investing one's self only to find what we loved has made off with our emotions in a Bernie Madoff heist. Secondly, when we love something we have to address other realities such as commitment, committing, self-worth, perceptions, etc. There is a smorgasbord of potential candidates and I have no intention on getting into all of them because hopefully you got the point.

Here is the truth. What ever make up the feelings of love for each of us is subjective. It is a process of perception and we always will make a choice to deny the facts of what IS or face the music. Both choices are risky. The former may seem less so but in denying one takes a path that ultimately will lead in disappointment. It becomes a cycle of placing realistic emotions in the trash and supplanting them with secondary or even tertiary afterthoughts. On the other hand, as addressed above, facing the facts leaves us open and immediately in a poor defensive position. Or so we think. Conversely, while difficult, thinking with both the mind and heart will lead to a valid conclusion. That is to say, one that is likely a closer approximation to reality than denial.

Frankly, I have been done with thinking with my gut for a long time now. Well, two to three years anyways. It has never gotten me anywhere and it is a waste of my time. However, in finding a nexus between heart and mind, metaphysical and fact, I have come to reconcile so many issues in my life. I put my head on the chopping block each time, but for what I truly love it is worth that risk. Albeit a calculated risk. I am not afraid because I cannot be. The truth that is in my heart and mind is going to be of stronger mettle than any heartbreak or exploitation.

So the question is if you are willing to accept the truth readers? Are you ready to think not with your gut but with your heart and mind in unison? If you are than I think your fears will be quelled and you will find answers to the questions you hold quietly to yourselves. It is not to say that I think you should never fear and nor should you blindly assume the best. You should be cautious. What you should not do is let caution take the wheel and steer. Deep down we all know the answers and we all know the realities of life. Sometimes my dear readers, you need to take a step forward into the unknown and follow your heart and mind where it may lead.