My mother used to call me "Donna Quixote"; it was her way of saying that I was an idealist to the point that I tilted at windmills.  Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, but the idea was clear.  Idealism was an attribute that was considered appropriate for an adolescent, in my family, but less so for the adult who had to make her way in the world.

I never thought I was all that idealistic, but I suspect I tend to minimize the intensity of my views and beliefs as an adolescent, and that my mother may have been right.  Then.  But not now. But to the outside world, I still look like an idealist, I think.  And I look like a socialist.  I don't think I'm either, but I understand how it could look that way to others.

In any case, I do continue to try to make the world a better place.  I think most adults do, of course.  I just happen to get paid to work on behalf of disadvantaged groups a lot of the time, and have a reasonably good reputation of understanding their anger and giving them room to transform their anger into effective action of various kinds to change what is making them angry in the first place. 

But there is no doubt about it: I've never been a confrontational, front-line kind of activist.  I've been the kind of activist who advocates incremental change, who believes that half-a-loaf is way better than none, when one has none to start with.  And I've believed that it's more effective, at least some of the time, to work inside the system, rather than seeking to destroy it. 

Having said that, I've always had the persistent suspicion that real change can happen only by destroying and rebuilding the system, though I believe that vision is the windmill toward which I cannot tilt.  I don't think it's possible.   And even if it were, I'm not all that confident that whatever emerged in the place of what is now the status quo would be significantly better.  In short, I don't have a lot of faith in the "big bang" solutions, although I believe they are what is really needed to create a socially just world.

So, I don't work in the world of black and white, of extremes, of identifiable good and bad.  I work in the 'gray zone'.  I'm pretty comfortable in the gray zone most of the time; I'm more inclined to be sympathetic to the views of the confronters than to the arguments of those who hold power.  I tend to side with the "underdog", just like my dad did in wrestling and hockey matches.  But it's not because they're the underdogs; it's because I know they don't deserve the status they've been sentenced to.  So, I work in the gray zone, but closer to the guys in the black hats than the guys in the white hats. 

My fear is that when one is in the gray zone, it's hard to tell when one comes up against real evil, in whatever form.  I can't recognize it on either side of the battle-line.  Sometimes the rebels are evil: they don't believe in the people they are fighting for; they seek status rather than change.  And sometimes, the power-bearers are truly good guys in disguise.  I often can't exercise the judgment necessary to know which is which.  In that sense, life in the gray zone is excruciatingly uncomfortable.

So, what to do? I suppose I can only examine my own motives, and continue to assess what I think the best deal is at any given moment, and then go after it.  I can judge only my own motives.  And when I think I've lost sight of who is "good" and who is "bad", I can only consult those whose judgment is better than mine at those questions.  Usually that person is on the white team or the black team, and only hopes that those in the gray zone are ready to back up his or her side when the crunch comes.  I wonder what that crunch will look like to me, in the very gray zone.

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