last week one of my students suggested i read this book called: the hunger games. its the first in a series of three. the following is what's been floating around in my head since i read the first two (3rd one comes out on july 25th and i personally can't wait).
WARNING*SPOILERS AHEAD*
at some point in the future what used to be north america has split into 12 districts. the districts live in varying degrees of poverty. and they all wait anxiously for the annual "hunger games". there used to be 13 districts but then district 13 tried to revolt against the capitol because they were tired of living stripped of their freedom. to remind the rest of the districts what happens when someone tries to start a revolution the capitol came up with the games. each year, each district is forced to send 2 tributes to the capitol: one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18. there they will compete in a battle to the death with the other tributes. the winner, wins food for their district.
this story grabbed me right from the beginning. i'm not going to go into the obvious reasons i loved this book. of course there was great plot, good characters and a love triangle that shows twilight for the soul sucker that it is. but that's just the frosting. i want to express here what grabbed my heart about this book. but bear with me because i'm not sure i quite know how to explain it.
there was this emotion that was bubbling under the surface but i couldn't name it until i was halfway through the second book: catching fire; ANGER. real, strong, surprising anger.
i've spent most of my life living in a world that lets me read what i want to read, or watch what i want to watch. i'm allowed to say what i want to. there's no one forcing me to marry or holding me back from being anything i want to be. and on an even more basic level there's always more than enough food on my table and a warm bed to climb into at night. this book created a world where those things don't exist. it spun a society where 12 year olds are turned into killers, fighting for the chance to feed their families. and even though its fiction, even though we read it and exclaim, "how awful, that would never happen here!" its happening somewhere.
i've seen enough of this planet we live on to know that not everyone lives as comfortably as i do. i've seen what real hunger looks like. i've smelled the desperation one has when trying to feed their families. i walked with women who were beaten down and trodden on. i've spoken with people who genuinely fear for their lives while they pray or sing or read. it happens. it is happening.
and what am i doing about it? the more i pages i read of this story the more i was reminded of this warrior that lives in me. this woman who would travel any distance and give up anything to love. but the warrior's been asleep for years now. i send money to causes i care about and am satisfied with my contribution. but that's not really fighting anything. it makes a dent, it helps, but it isn't a fight. it doesn't cost me anything.
i'm tired of reading about bombings and disease and racism and persecution and ignorance. i'm tired of watching teenagers on mtv complain about their sweet 16 party while teenagers in the congo are fighting for their lives. i don't want to trivialize hunger. i don't want to underestimate fear. i believe that the God who knit me together in my mother's womb knit together everyone else too. i believe that the inheritance that awaits me can be yours. i believe that my skin color, the country stamped on the front of my passport, the amount of money i have in my bank account don't mean that i'm better than anyone else. i want to show my children's children that i helped carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. because someone's got to carry it and i think the burden is lighter when we share.
the hunger games made me hungry. it made me hungry for change, for possibility. it made me hungry to see us treat each other with respect. i've got a few ideas about how to make that happen permeating around in my brain. i'll let you know when something concrete hits.
