As if
things weren’t scary and serious enough, here comes Friday, January 20, 2017.
I’ve recently posted humor pieces, and although I amused myself in the process
of writing those posts, it was merely another excuse by me to avoid addressing Donald
Trump’s upcoming presidency. How can it
be? That those words can now be strung together? President Donald Trump?
One of his many faces
I was
raised on the 1960s ideology of equal rights and peace. Love flowed, yet there
was violence, too, brought about by anger and the desire to draw attention to
the many injustices that prevailed. There were the Chicago 8, Black Panthers, Gloria
Steinheim, Betty Friedan and the rest of them. And there was me, a micro within
the macro of middle-class teen women, who wore ragged jeans and attended local
protests and rock concerts. As far as I was concerned, our entire life theme,
down to our civics class discussions and our music, was meant to foster racial
equality and promote peace in an era where we watched our friends depart for
Vietnam where they might die, or return so messed up in the head, they were
never the same again. We wanted the country and the world to be better. One of
my favorite words has always been “possible.” To this day, I don’t know if I’d
be able to go on if I didn’t believe in the meaning of that word. Of course, I
guess that depends on what one hopes is possible; surely that point can be
argued, and as we have witnessed, there’s plenty of arguing happening these
days.
I’ve
commented on right-wing blogs and posts. I followed them because I felt it
important to inform myself about what others, who don’t share my political
stance, believe. When I comment, I am careful to choose my words so that I
respectfully make my point. The kindest response I have received was a condescending
“pray for her.”
I remain
polite when I comment, I don’t believe in name-calling, and for that I was
labeled passive-aggressive. It’s not like I need to always be right, or to win
the conversation, but refuting every single negation of rational, loving, caring philosophies that serve all people, is exhausting. Dang,
and I always thought it was so easy to live the golden rule - silly me.
The words,
openness and tolerance, seem to have lost their meaning within the context of
this particular political conversation to which I refer. My experience in right-wing arenas, renders
the words laughable. How and why did we stop caring about all human beings to
the point these folks believe that only people like themselves are the norm, or deserve consideration? Transsexuals are deemed
psychologically unsound. Black Lives
Matter and White Privilege are titles that so many on the right believe negate
their own place in the world, and there seems to be no effort to understand why
others, who are somehow "different," feel their lives and needs have been ignored
and disrespected. Or perhaps I don’t
need to ask how and why we stopped caring. Because, apparently, some of us never cared in
the first place.
The issues
are more complex than my ability to discuss here, but as the week wanes, and I
approach my personal Media Blackout Day, a/k/a Inauguration Day, I offer kindness
and condolences to everyone who feels like me, the girl from the 1960s, who still believes in the
possible.
To a girl of the 60s from another girl of the 60s, will be marching this weekend and thinking of you and all the other girls from the 60s and wondering...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKTIwSLU4i4
ReplyDeleteThanks, Elizabeth.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Eileen, for putting into words what I feel. I too will have a blackout day on Friday. Love you. Doreen
ReplyDeleteThinking of you, too, Doreen. Thanks so much for reading! I hope you are able to do something beautiful, calming and productive tomorrow. I hope to do the same. xo
DeleteWell said, Eileen.
DeleteBravo!,
Delete