Connections

My Facebook feed was its usual erratic self today—about 50/50 either supporting the students planning to walk out in protest of congress’ inaction on gun violence or seeming offended and upset by political engagement in youth (and threats to their gun rights).  The more vocal I become online, the more separation I see from me and the latter.  Much of the negativity comes from people from my childhood.  You see, I grew up in a small town in Wyoming, fed and nurtured by the coal industry.  Like many other blue-collar jobs, coal has suffered significantly in the last few decades. I can truly understand the fear and defensiveness that springs from this sort of economic uncertainty.  So, I say this as a disclaimer of honesty in what I am about to write.  I know and love people who voted for Donald J Trump–the ultimate protest to togetherness and acceptance.  I can connect the dots and peer into their universes for short (painful) periods of time.  I have empathy for their struggling families and their feelings of isolation and abandonment.

And I have to believe that is what fuels some of the most vile, hateful things that I see every day on social media.  They are products of their culture. There is no room for them in their echo chambers to explore new ideas or consider other truths.  I have to believe this, because the alternative is that a lot of my classmates, friends, and family are actually spiteful, racist, sexist, and homophobic people that I tolerate through my silence, apathy and ‘friendship.’  That would make me complicit.

I was an oppositional little shit from a very young age.  I questioned everything, and I credit my father somewhat for this.  A liberal, hippie coal miner himself, I was never allowed to accept the status quo.  If I saw something wrong, I needed up speak up.  Because of this questioning, I allowed myself to travel further outside of my world.  Not just geographically, but in my spirit.  I faced my ‘others’ head on, made myself be uncomfortable and tested my hard-fought truths.  I met and loved LGBTQI people, I immersed myself in cultures that weren’t white, I challenged patriarchy and found my own absolute strength.  I have talked with drug-addicted mothers, kids with felonies, homeless men, war refugees, and I cherish every ounce of growth they have afforded me.  And, the surprising truth that has hit me the hardest is that we are not all that different.  I have seen pieces of me in everyone I have ever known.

And perhaps that is the problem.  When I see a mom point a finger at a high school student who has recently survived a school shooting and call them a “libtard” or a “spoiled brat”, I think the real issue is denial.  She refuses to let herself see that this child is not that different from her own child.  The child’s mother is not that different from herself.  For people like her, trapped in a void of self-fulfilling prophecies, it may take a tragedy to finally open herself to the possibility that we are not all that different.  I wish it didn’t take a tragedy, I wish we could come to terms with our connections before every mother has to lose a child.  More and more, I see the real difference between liberal and conservative, democrat and republican, is the ability to see connections.  Once you have really accepted that we all have similar wants, needs, hopes, and dreams, you have to allow yourself the painful process of realizing your own faults and short-comings.  You have to own every choice that you make as it impacts everything—nothing works in isolation.  Your words matter, your actions matter, your beliefs and Facebook posts matter.  It is a lot of goddamn responsibility and I understand the instinct to recoil.

But, understanding it does not mean I tolerate it.  I am appalled, disappointed, and instinctively protective today as I watch people passive aggressively telling children they have no right to their thoughts and opinions.  I see through your “walk up, not out” bullshit as I did when you told the football players to protest in a different way.  If you feel the need to tell someone how, why, or when they should protest, you are more than likely part of the problem.

I see you, I understand where you’re coming from.  But, it is time for your truth to grow. #ENOUGH

-K