Guest Blog: Darfur? I Hardly Know Her!

A wonderful blog written by a fellow blogger here.

Guest Blogger: Will Francis

(A Social Commentary on
Peer Pressure, Apathy, and Mustaches
in the 21st Century)

Every couple of months I find it necessary to clean my Facebook. This process is a sometimes enjoyable one that includes: getting rid of outdated applications, picking a new profile picture, updating my basic info page, and leaving groups that just don’t matter to me anymore. Completing this list is essential if I want to feel like a productive member of this website, and really society as well. This being said I always run into the same obstacle. Darfur. Yes, the small African nation, which so happens to be plagued by genocide and other naughty things, is ruining my online experience. “Why?” you ask. It’s because I’m a coward.

I don’t exactly remember why I joined “For Every 1,000 that join this group I will donate $1 for Darfur”, but I have a theory that it was during a time when my membership was in its infancy and I was floating in a sea of “unparticipation” in virtual activist organizations. Every so often I would read in the news feed that friends of mine had joined this same group and not only that, but had left it too. During these first instances I passed temporary judgments on these heathens which would last for the greater part of a second. This was always followed by instant forgiveness. Then I came to realize that they too had a ritual of tidying up their online domain, and had found it necessary to distance themselves from Darfur for the sake of having less obligations. That, or because it was no longer in style. 

I want to interject that, as I was once a Political Science major, you would think I might know a thing or two about global incidents. Seeing as the Olympics aren’t happening this year, I feel like that just shouldn’t be a concern of mine. I do however have a thing or two to say about genocide. Surprisingly, I kind of respect it. I’m not one for confrontation so when I see that some mustached leader in a far off land has gotten rid of a ton of people, I have to applaud human effort. I find there is no better way to burn bridges between two groups of people than to burn one of groups alive. On the flip side Americans subject themselves to genocide every day. We are successfully phasing out the “Valley Girl” due to tanning bed radiation. From what I understand this has been in the works for years. Not only that, but fast food restaurants are bringing up new victims every day to replace the ones who are dead. Taco Bell has changed our dining agenda forever by adding a “Fourth Meal”, and Wendy’s Baconater is projected to cause more heart attacks than the Publisher’s Clearing House check deliverers. Unlike Darfur we have developed a killing method that is not only socially acceptable but looks good in a swimsuit and/or tastes delicious. 

Recently I was given the opportunity to be intellectually mortified by an aforementioned mustached leader. Dr. Jeremy Lewis, head of the Political Science department at my college and it’s only teacher, teachs the World Politics I am currently taking. It dawned on me during one of the lectures that not only did I not know what he was talking about half the time without the use of Wikipedia, but I never even wanted to come near to having an educated opinion on the matter. It would just take too much time, heart, and money to get to where I might be a guest of Real Time with Bill Maher, and I don't usually persue something unless I know I will be the best at it. All of Lewis’s lecturing on people thousands of miles away or half a century ago in gas chambers I will never tour, being fire squaded against walls I will never touch, or burned alive in their own huts that I will never smell made me void of all caring. It was as if he were talking about every puppy in ever pound in this world and how bad they needed a home. I wanted to help, but I just couldn’t. The task before me was too large, so large that it became useless to even care anymore. This is the kinda crap I think about when I clean my profile.
Marek Grodzicki, the creator of Save Darfur, promises this to be a real cause and that he has in fact followed through with his pledge. This group is different in many ways from other charity websites: It doesn’t ask you to donate. It’s in the title. The only thing you have to do is join and Grodzicki will have one more notch in his belt. If you read the reasons given for this group’s creation Marek makes a point to tell you that it is not for his “self gratification”. Oh. How very nice of him. Not only does he give to charity, but he doesn’t feel better about himself for doing so. Forgive me for being a sociopath, but I find it hard to believe that. Most things I do in my spare time are wholly for self gratification, and if they aren’t I find a way to incorporate that into my activity. Yes, by all means I’m selfish, but don’t ever tell me I didn’t warn you. Why do I put change into the Salvation Army bucket during Christmas time? It’s so that damned lady will stop ringing the bell for a few seconds to say “Thank you, sugar.” Plus, sometimes I’ve done something real naughty, but not as naughty as genocide, and think the sound of a few nickels clanging together will counter that. Fat chance, but it’s a thought, and it’s the thought that counts.

I consider myself a rather proficient Facebooker compared to other college students. I have successfully utilized the privacy settings so that no Sunday School teacher, professor, or future employer may see anything that would otherwise mar my reputation as an All-American-Church-Goin’-Tax-Payin’- Law-Regarding-Boy-Scout. It also helps that I blocked my own mother. It has crossed my mind several times that I could just quit the group and hide it from the newsfeed. As ingenious as that is, it’s also sneaky. And the only thing I hate more than Darfur is conniving and sneaky sons of bitches. I wouldn’t necessarily lose sleep over doing it the easy way. That sort of privilege is given to people who commit genocide. But I do feel that I would be looked at as an insensitive person if I left the group, because as we all know, Facebook is the apart of the real world now and the things we do on it matter in the grand scheme of things. So, I had to choose what I valued more to me: either try to offend the least amount of people possible, or march down the streets with my own pants on. I chose the latter.

Today I have closed a chapter in my life, because when I made the final click I became my own man. I have severed all ties in my relationship to a dying country. Did I feel any different when I went through with it? No, I didn’t feel anything at all. These first couple of months I am going to take it slow. Maybe one day in a lonely Comparative Government lecture I will think about all the good times we had. I might see Darfur on the newsfeed and I will cordially stop and maybe see what has been going on. I will say, “Remember when we broke our first 1,000 members?” There was excitement, sure. But there always is at first. I am going to keep that in mind when I see other charity organizations pop up. As much as I want to “Save the Manatees”, am I really ready to commit? It takes a lot out of me when I teeter on the fence and only care enough to show my concern and nothing deeper than that. It’s going to take some time for me to get over Darfur. For now I am just going to donate to bell ringers, because it is fast, cheap, I feel good afterwards, and right now it’s the only thing I can handle.