"I didn't do enough"

--This is day 4 in "The 7 Last Days of Summer"--

I've been thinking about injustice.

I've been thinking about it for awhile. I can't track down exactly where it started, I was in the middle of it before I knew it began (I love that sentence almost as much as I love that book). But now I can't make it stop.

The more I think about it, the harder it seems to grasp. Not the concept. The concept is simple. But how the concept is played out--that's what's hard.

It's easy to know, to say people are unjust. ("People are unjust"--that's how easy it is.) But it's incredibly hard to come to terms with the extent of injustice people inflict.

I started my summer off with reading about injustice. I didn't chose the book because of that. I didn't even know it was a main theme until I got in the middle of the book--I just knew I wanted to read it. About halfway through the book, suddenly injustice was all I could see.

I can't blame the book entirely though. I've been watching movies. Many plot themes in books and movies are driven by some form of injustice. For some reason, I've been reading/seeing them all this summer. I've also been re-thinking through some situations--injustice plays a large theme in each one.

If you knew my life, you would know there was a moment this summer in which injustice and stupidity collided--at that moment they were one and the same.

This leads me to wondering, is injustice always stupid? Are there good injustices?
Is injustice really everywhere? It seems like it is. But I also know when you're thinking about something seriously, it becomes all you think and see.

I've also been wondering about the extent of injustice. What is the height of injustice? Are there levels or degrees of injustice? What kind of injustice is worse than another?

I watched a movie. I had needed to see this movie for a long time. While I was watching it, I remember thinking "This--what these people are doing here--this is injustice. This is the height of injustice." The film did not condone the injustice, and it was one of the most moving films I had ever seen.

Later that day, I watched another movie (It was my day off-deal with it). It started simply enough. Suddenly I discovered injustice was rampant in this film as well.
Yes, it was a different kind of injustice. Instead of dealing with a race, it was dealing with one human. The film was supposed to be romantic, but yet all I could see was the injustice.

I was disturbed. I didn't feel the way about the second film's injustice as I had about the first film's injustice. Was I wrong? Should I feel the same about all injustices?

But none of those are my real problems. My real problem is "What does this mean for me?"

Intellectual exercises are wonderful, but they can only take you so far. At a point, the exercise becomes personal. Trust me, I know.

There's a group, and they are pushing for a bill to be passed. I look at this bill, I look at this group, and I wonder "Is pushing this through unjust to other people?"
and "Is not pushing it through unjust?"

I look at this group's history. I see issues where I firmly believe they failed. I see times when I believe they should have stood for true justice (not what they were told was justice), and I'm deeply disturbed they haven't.

I wonder why this bill is different from those other times. Am I one of the ones going along simply because it sounds right? If the bill is a form of injustice (to either party), is that all right? Are there acceptable forms of injustice? Like the movies, can I be horrified by one, but complacent about the other? Are future generations going to look back and say "How did they not see the injustice of this?"
"How did they not stop what they were doing and fight for justice?"

Is justice what I want?

Am I fighting against injustice?

Should I be fighting against all injustices, or simply select injustices?

What should I be doing?


What was the response to the quote in the title? If you remember, there were vague reassurances, the promise of a brighter tomorrow, and a looking at past accomplishments--it was, in essence, a placation.

And yet, you still knew the man was right--he didn't do enough. He could have done more, but he didn't.


I don't want that to be me.