LETTERS TO THE EDITOR: Kathy Change, in life and death

One hour later, political activist Kathleen Change stood in front of the Peace Symbol on College Green, doused her body with gasoline and immolated herself for her political ideals. Most of us had seen Change before. She was the "Dancing Lady" who often floated through campus waving a banner, spouting some vague references to love and political change. She was one of those characters who bring color to a college campus -- hard to ignore, but easy to dismiss -- and her final protest had the same character. It is convenient to consider Change's last act meaningless, or to think of her last testament, making its way through the Penn community via e-mail, as deranged. If we do so, we need not take her challenge seriously, and her suicide can be remembered as simply tragic. But perhaps we can give her the final gift of trying to rescue some good from her sad and misguided sacrifice. Change's challenge is ultimately the challenge of all activists, whether religious or political, from Moses to Marx to Mandela: What is our responsibility for addressing the wrongs and suffering we see around us, however we define those wrongs? What principles call us to action, demand a sacrifice, resist compromise? When does human behavior become so unconscionable that we feel compelled to take a stand? From the comfort of the Penn community, we greet these questions with a sense of unease, in part because we feel the guilt of our affluence and detachment. I was surprised by how much Change's desperate act upset me and disturbed the colleagues and students with whom I spoke. Perhaps today we are unused to someone sacrificing herself for an ideal, especially when she expressed doubt that the act would change anything. To dismiss Change as "deranged" or irrelevant relieves our sense of unease and allows us to avoid confronting her act with respect, though never with approval. It is also not fair to her; she was often eloquent in defense of her beliefs, and whether or not we agree with her, there was nothing incoherent about her political positions. Let us, for a moment, give her the respect of taking her act seriously. What is it you would sacrifice your time and effort -- if not your life -- for? To prevent genocide? Did you get involved in campus groups against ethnic cleansing in Bosnia or Somalia? To prevent injustice? Have you acted to protest the Chinese takeover of Tibet, the military regime in Burma, the Indonesian slaughters in East Timor? Too far away? Are you active in Greenpeace or the Sierra Club, any political party, the abortion debate (whichever side you believe in), social action in your religious group? Too general? What have you done to improve the schools, to ease the poverty, to improve the health of the West Philadelphia community in which you are a guest for four or more years? Have you joined one of the programs helping to renovate West Philadelphia homes? Have you volunteered to be a Big Brother or Sister to a West Philadelphia youngster? What spurs you to action? Change wrote "I hope my action will not be viewed as tragic, but rather? will increase the efficacy of my prayers to all the people to have faith in the ideals, choose the path of peace, and transform this nation and the world." Her suicide was tragic, both in the sense of its ultimate futility and in the loss of someone with energy and ideals. But tragic acts can have positive consequences. Pay Change one last tribute, and ask yourself: What principle would I give my life for? If you draw a blank, perhaps you can learn from Change's sacrifice after all. Paul Root Wolpe Center for Bioethics Adjunct Asst. Sociology Professor n As a naturalized American citizen, I highly value the freedom of expression granted to all Americans. Sometimes I think American-born citizens take this freedom for granted. Each time Kathy Change expressed herself on Locust Walk for all to see and hear, she was merely exercising the same right I am exercising as I write: the right to free speech. But the difference between me, writing to a newspaper, and Change, who protested daily on Locust Walk, is her courage to stand in the spotlight, take mockery in stride and continue to express her views in not-so-conventional ways. As a freshman seeing Change's demonstrations for the first time, I was perplexed. Searching for answers, I looked around to see my classmates' reactions. Mostly, I saw people look at her, try to read one of her flags or signs, then shake their heads, casting her off as crazy. Sometimes I saw bold students mock her movements or words for a laugh. Every now and then, I saw someone talking to her as a person with something to say, asking her what she stood for. I never did try to be one of those people. Some criticized Change for her eccentric ways of expressing herself, claiming she should have used more conventional forms of expression. Though I may not see self-immolation as the best way to get a point across, any passionate form of expression earns my respect in a country where apathy pervades society -- from class elections to national legislation. You who read this letter -- deemed a "conventional" form of expression -- will probably throw it in the trash can (or recycling bin) after skimming it over breakfast or in between classes. Years from now, my letter will be just one of the many forgotten opinions you read in the DP. Years from now, however, some part of Change's "unconventionally" expressed views will remain among your college memories. Ludmila Zamah College '00 n Kathy Change was a person I've seen demonstrating on College Green for many years. I never talked to her, but always felt she was a dedicated idealist with great perseverance. After reading the DP coverage of her suicide, I realized she was much more than that. She was a woman of great courage and a visionary far ahead of her time. The transformation she sought will come. We will eventually be voting not in high school gymnasiums on mechanical voting machines, but by computer at home. The U.S. and then the world will be transformed into an electronic town meeting. The power of wealthy special interests will finally be checked. The individual, after so many centuries, will again participate directly in democracy. This may not occur for several generations, but I think it is inevitable. When it happens, Change will be remembered. P. W. Scherer Bioengineering Professor n Like many members of the Penn community, I find myself deeply touched by Kathy Change's self-immolation. For me, her public act touches many chords. I was profoundly affected by the events of the '60s, including the fiery deaths of Buddhist monks in Vietnam and the self-immolation of Norman Morrison -- a fellow Quaker -- who died on the steps of the Pentagon. The Peace Symbol, where Change poured gasoline on herself and set herself aflame, and where candles and flowers have been placed in her memory, was erected by Penn classmates of my generation. She was mad, of course. Mad to kill herself when she could have continued as a dancer for peace. She was mad to think that her ultimate protest could have achieved? what? I don't know. I don't even know if she knew what she hoped to achieve. I suspect each of us will take something unique from her act -- in the same way that we each took something different from our encounters with her dances on College Green. For me, she was a spirit dancer, someone sent by God to wave at me as I hurried by, consumed with my projects, my tasks, the meeting I was going to or the one I had just left. And she was always disturbing. Disturbing in the way that someone sleeping on a steam grate is disturbing. Disturbing as the nightly news is disturbing. Change was always trying to pull me from my "normal" life. She seemed to always be asking me to look -- not at her, but at what pained her. To stop. To step off my well-worn path. To change. But for her, the flags were not enough. The dancing seemed to fail. And so she took the horrible step of setting herself aflame. Look! she seemed to be saying. Look! There are people who feel guilty about her. There are people who are thinking, "I should have stopped and talked with her. Perhaps I could have helped her. Perhaps I could have stopped her." There are those who tried, and by one interpretation, they failed. I don't see it that way. Each of us has a story, and for this lifetime, Change's story has been completed. I have prayed for her spirit ever since I learned of what she did. I imagine her now in God's arms. Without in any way wanting to justify her insane act, I can say that I have stopped. And that I am looking. If others are similarly shaken, well, that's what Change would have wanted. Divine madness? Or delusional schizophrenia? Now that Change has completed her story, that's up to us. Adam Corson-Finnerty College '67 Library Development Director n I watched them gather... At the place you chose to end your life.... Immobilized in flame! And I ask myself as I see the tears in their eyes.... HOW CAN PEACE INSPIRE SO MUCH SHAME AND PAIN! Joanne L. Borthwell Secretary, Office of the Provost