Independence Day…for Some

To be honest, I never thought I’d see the United States go backwards in time. I never thought I’d see regression instead of progression, but in a blink of an eye it feels as though we found freedom, but then it was taken away. I write this today, not to take a big smack at our country. I’m here, and I want to believe that we can be that great nation that I was taught about in school. But it can’t happen if we keep lying to ourselves about how we really got here. We can’t keep pretending that thanksgiving was a peaceful event between the colonizers and the indigenous. We can’t keep pretending that since we freed slaves, all is forgiven and forgotten from the people ripped from their culture, forced to convert to what owners wanted them to be, and then after freedom creating a back door system to essentially continue to oppress that group. We can’t pretend that we’ve treated women, lgbtq+, the elderly, and the disabled with equality and fairness. We can’t pretend that we did the right things when we got this land, BUT we can decide to make amends for our past. We can be honest and real and we can start to make this a country that says what it means and means what it says. I celebrate Independence Day not by rejoicing in propaganda that we’ve been fed since childhood. Not because I think we’ve done all the right things, but because I believe the majority of people really want it to be right, I believe our troops have fought for us to be safe and because they want it to be right. I believe we have the heart as a group to make things better. But I wasn’t always so outspoken or passionate. In fact you could say I closed my eyes and chose not to see the things that were ugly in our home. I share this with you because I am you. And we may not be the exact same, I think most of you will find something relate to, even if only a sliver.

If you’ve read any of my previous blogs, you know I’ve been non-political as much as possible my entire life. This is mostly, I think, because my family on my dad’s side was extremely political and loved having debates at Sunday lunch until after dinner. As a child, picking up on the higher emotion as arguments grew in passion and not being the center of attention were enough to make me push politics in the “No thank you” section of my mind. Come to think of it, sports caused similar outcomes, so I rebelled against both. I say that with a smile, recognizing as an adult how petulant that is. Or is it? I wryly question. And now, as an adult, I recognize that my grandfather, sitting with his adult children, debating over various issues, and playing devil’s advocate made this a teaching moment, showing there are two sides of an argument. Perhaps it would help them win arguments or learn to see another point of view. In some ways, even though I didn’t participate or care for the debates much, I think I picked up a little of his lessons just from observing. I think that’s why I’ve found it easier to live in the middle. I often saw both sides of an argument and felt there was always some kind of compromise that could be made, even if only a baby step toward something bigger. I’ve tried not to jump on sides right away after first hearing fiery issues. Listening to one side might trigger an emotional response with visions of fighting the injustice, but then hearing the opposition, I might see a different perspective. Many times I could hear the reason that one side wasn’t able to grasp the other side’s point. There is usually a gray, a muddled middle, and both sides can be so protective that they fail to see the middle state can be that baby step in both directions. I’ve even heard two sides wanting the very same thing, but they can’t hear each other through the anger so no steps toward resolution are made. I chose the middle for most of my life hoping I would help others find a solution by analyzing the points and seeing what each side really wanted. Then I might be able to diplomatically intervene and help each side hear the core issue, not just the anger.

I’ve struggled on so many front burner issues, but my rebellion against politics got in the way of me really doing any kind of fact checking. I tended to listen to friends and family, then forming very weak opinions based on the third hand information passed. Of course each person’s cents were laced with a personalized interpretation of events, tainted with their life experiences and teachings that helped them form opinions.  Perhaps some were even swayed moreso by news outlets and other tools that help push people in certain directions.

I remember my other grandfather, my mom’s stepdad, telling me that they had a state legislature that went to DC, intending to truly bring what the people wanted to congress and create positive change for them. He told me the congressman wrote his constituents a letter apologizing, that he would not be able to accomplish what he set out to do. That Washington was only able to move things with the, “I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine” mentality. Said that he couldn’t get anyone to pass anything he proposed unless he agreed to do things that were against his beliefs of what the people wanted. I was pretty disheartened when my papa told me that, but I held hope that one day things would get better. That the USA I was taught about in school, the one that was the greatest nation, that took care of its people and others, that believed in equal rights for all, and that you could be anything you put your mind to if you lived here, would one day rise and see the bad politicians and remove them. And one day we’d have a true just and fair system.

But like I said, I didn’t like learning about it. I didn’t like hearing about it, so when big topics came up socially I relied on the few things I heard from others. And then I would spew out a little spec of those things I heard just to be a part of a conversation. I guess anyway.

Today, I’m truly embarrassed for many of the things I not even half heartedly believed yet regurgitated. I’ll admit, ashamedly, I was racist. Not on purpose. I didn’t think I was. It certainly wasn’t because I wanted to be. In fact what might’ve been my downfall was my pride in not being racist. It kept me from seeing the very things I actually WAS racist in. I know that deep down the reason was that I did not want to believe I could be racist or hurt someone, but I also didn’t do any work to see if that was really true. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t even know there was much of a conversation. I never believed a person of color should be considered less than a person lacking color. In my mind, we were equal so therefore it was. This was the prideful mistake. I relied on my interpretation from my lens and never thought to see if someone’s experience was different than mine. In fact, in my delusion, everyone except a small amount of old white people considered everyone equal so why would there be anyone who would say otherwise?

I remember affirmative action going into effect.

I do recall thinking affirmative action was strange because as I said I didn’t think America was racist anymore. I thought stereotypes and jokes were something we all did about each other and that we were living fairly harmoniously. I didn’t realize nor know anyone who talked about the system that was there hurting everyone that wasn’t privileged. In fact, I didn’t even know what privileged was nor would I have ever considered myself in that category. At least not by race. I believed that there were things that were bound to be less fair for anyone who wasn’t part of a majority because that was part of numbers. If there are more white people then there will be more white people with certain jobs. And I applied that to all types of thinking.

I only learned later, things that to this day, blow my mind. I’ll admit, I have family in prison and some that have been in prison. I was never under the impression that prison was more populated with people that had more melanin. And certainly not under the impression that it’s set up in a way to keep inmates in. That others profit off inmates being in prison, some like a weird underground stock market, and others for practically getting free labor. Purposefully not watching news and staying in the dark on most things had advantages because I could keep my anxiety and sadness in control, which I’ve learned is also privilege. Many didn’t have a choice in knowing the awful things happening because they were living it. So the occasional blip I’d hear on police brutality seemed so rare, that of course I thought it was awful, but didn’t realize it was a large problem happening frequently and specifically in marginalized neighborhoods. Social media might be what got me to finally see that there was a problem in our country with discrimination still, but it wasn’t until much later.

When Trump got into office, so much changed. I knew I didn’t like him, but he was also supposed to be the anti politician. I thought maybe he’d end up making things better since the system was and is so corrupt. Yeah, he said some repulsive things, but I don’t know very many men (or didn’t at the time) that weren’t sexist and misogynistic. Not that it’s a good thing, but just that I thought most men were, so good luck finding one running for President that wasn’t. The more he spoke, the more I disliked, but all I could say at the time was maybe this was a good thing. All these people that were racist, homophobic, sexist, and so forth…it seemed they were all in hiding, but when they felt they had permission to be cruel again, they came flying out of the woodwork. I thought, this is light being thrown on the darkness. You can’t fight what you can’t see. If you know what you’re up against you can strategize. But then George Floyd was murdered. I watched the 8 minute (I believe) video in horror. I watched the police officer hold him down as George pleaded for his life. The officer had no light in his eye. It was cold blood. And it was terrifying.

I watched this and I cried for days. Shocked by the betrayal of an officer that was hired and selected to serve and protect, yet be the very thing people should be afraid of. I was angry that he put a bad look on police in general, making people feel police were not to be trusted. Little did I realize, that was the last straw not the first one. Then everything erupted. My mind did not immediately jump to a race issue though. I wasn’t sure the officer’s reasoning for murder, but I assumed it could’ve killed anyone, and this poor victim also happened to be black. After the protests started, I quickly became aware that this was not a new problem. This was an ongoing issue and I had my head stuck in the sand so I had barely known. My initial reaction to the riots that broke out were fear and confusion. I couldn’t understand why people were setting buildings on fire and looting. It seemed counterproductive and I couldn’t understand how that would help anyone get heard. My friend said when someone has tried talking, tried begging, tried crying, tried screaming, but still unheard, the only thing they feel they have left is to make a bigger statement. It made me think. I mean no, I’m not a believer of violence begetting violence, but thinking what it must be like to feel that is your only choice. How pushed and beaten does one have to be to get to that place? That’s the first time I started to question the narrative I’d believed to be true. Terms like systemic racism became hot topics on social media and in social discussions. I’d never heard of this nor did I understand what it was. I first heard of white privilege around that time and just like many of the terms used, I’d never heard it before, nor did I understand the meaning. I thought at first it meant the privileged white people. Like the upper class. I didn’t think it applied to me because I didn’t grow up rich, nor had I ever been. I learned quickly that rich had nothing to do with it. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I kind of felt defensive. Like I was being told I’d done something wrong for being born white or for stuff my ancestors did that I definitely did not agree with. I felt like I was in trouble. I was told certain things meant I was racist and I didn’t want to be racist. I never thought I was. Why was I now? I felt scared and confused, and possibly ashamed, but also very defensive. This seems like it would be bad, but it wasn’t. This was my turning point.

All of these new terms being thrown around and the heightened topic were enough for me to realize I couldn’t just play the middle on this. But I can’t just pick a side without learning more. I needed to get facts and explanations for the new terms. I needed to understand what exactly I seemed to have missed all these years. I needed to understand why I was considered privileged. What did it mean? I reached out to a friend I trusted very much. I valued his opinion, not only from his first hand experience in being African American, but also with his ability to be very honest with me and help teach me things without shaming me. He explained systemic racism. I sort of understood, but not well enough to explain it to someone else. And if I was going to speak about this, I needed to articulate myself in a way that had the best chance of helping another understand. His breakdown of things planted the seed I needed to start digging for more information.

What I uncovered was like finding out Santa Clause isn’t real. I felt my country betrayed me by not teaching the truth, and moreso betrayed those that the country has hurt. I’m not saying I understood overnight. And in fact, I’m not saying I understand today, the full extent. How can I? It wasn’t my experience. I’m not the one living with the oppression. I’m not the one experiencing the injustice. And as much as I’ve always considered myself empathetic, this seemed to be one where I couldn’t fully grasp the weight that others were faced with. And partially because I didn’t want to believe that this was still truth in today’s world. I dug further into the meaning of white privilege. It first started with a video. From what I remember it was a line of diverse teens. A question was asked about things they had to worry or think about. If they didn’t have to worry they stepped forward and if they did they stayed back. All the white kids were out of the line by the end. Then they explained privilege was not having to worry about those things as part of a daily existence just for being alive. That’s when I understood. Later I heard another video. The creator addressed white people and explained that just because we were blindly racist in certain things did not mean we were in trouble, or bad people or with ill intent. If we were saying all lives matter during Black Lives Matter, it was racist. It took this creator explaining the meaning behind it for me to get it. Because believe you me, I do feel all lives matter, and I never wanted to mute what people were feeling when Black Lives Matter was chanted. I think in a moment of not knowing what to do I found myself feeling guilty for not talking about every other group that had been talked about during movements. I didn’t do anything during women’s March, or for Asians after they were being targeted, or Muslims when they were targeted. But BLM was quickly growing and there was a feeling of wanting to be supportive but then thinking, “well how horrible are you to show favoritism to one group when you haven’t said anything about anyone else?”. I questioned my desire to speak out. Was I just trying to keep up with “being good” like my social media counterparts? Was I more worried about my image than being fair? I tried going for the middle. I said all lives mattered because I didn’t want to offend anyone or leave them out. I sadly missed the other use of all lives matter being more of a comment towards “reverse racism” but that’s not where my mind went…albeit I still missed the bigger point. That one creator explained that we needed to recognize that by not listening to our brothers and sisters in need, a collective that was in great pain, that was a form of racism. I finally got it. I realized my denial of being racist and trying to people please was the actual racist part. If I could recognize this and start trying to be a part of a solution I would be moving in the right direction. That’s how I learned you don’t have to be a belligerent racist. That racism comes in all forms. Some is just ignorance. But we are given an opportunity to wake up and realize what is really going on and do something about it. I learned that privilege is not having to worry about being shot if I’m pulled over. Never having to think that. I learned privilege is all the stuff I never even knew others had to think about daily, but they do and I don’t.

I’ve learned I’m confused by what I can do because there are conflicting feelings within the collective. The only thing I know to do is speak my truth, my failings, and hope that you will relate in some way and want to use your privilege to help others understand better too. I’m no expert. I’m still learning everyday. But to see that there are a loud group out there wanting to turn back time and still think white skin is elite and some humans have more of a right to live than others, it’s horrifying.

After Roe v Wade was overturned I was like okay, maybe this is good? The states will decide what they want. The people will vote and if they want it in their state it will be and if not it won’t. I had NO idea that a) that’s not how it works. We don’t vote on certain things, some are just decided by the officials elected.  And b) to my shock many states flipped back to some archaic laws.

I’m not proud that it took my own rights being pulled to grasp what it must be like but worse for those who have always experienced oppression, but it was the first time I actually felt it. I sympathized before but I didn’t feel it.

You don’t have to agree with abortion. You don’t have to want one. But to tell a person that they are forced to carry and birth a pregnancy is not humane. To not let a woman who needs the abortion because the fetus is not viable, and will not survive life outside the womb, have the abortion is not humane. You can give me all the religious quotes you want that support forced pregnancy, and I’ll give you all the ones that don’t. But alas, that’s not what I’m here to discuss. The government has no business deciding what a woman does with her own body. And until a child is actually born, the right of life and health, mental or physical, is the woman’s. If a woman consents to intercourse she is not consenting to get pregnant. If I consent to having a drink with someone, I’m not consenting to sex. I’m not even consenting to become drunk. So stop slut shaming, it’s not even a valid point. Here’s the point. We are supposed to be living in a free country. Where all people are equal. Where all of us have rights. We have freedom to speak. If you don’t agree with abortion for religious reasons, then spread the information you feel you have using your free speech. The person you tell has the freedom to not listen. But you do not have the freedom to control them or their body.

The stripping of the freedom of choice for women is how I started to barely grasp how much worse it was for black lives, indigenous lives, and my lgbtq+ friends. I was a supporter, but I could never understand what it would feel like to grow up in a world that was designed against who you are and on top of trying to harm you for who you are. I mean, I couldn’t even completely understand feminism for the longest. I hadn’t experienced anything I knew to be oppressive until I realized what women went through. Much worse than today but we overcame so much or so we thought. If we were feeling this, then the other marginalized groups I mentioned must feel it so much more. Trans people essentially being told they can’t exist. They’ve always existed, why is this so hard to understand? Just because it’s a smaller portion of society does not make it less valid. I’ll be perfectly honest. I didn’t know anything about the steps for children transitioning when I first heard about it. I immediately assumed surgery and of course that is scary for any child to face. So I wouldn’t agree or disagree until I learned more. Well surgery isn’t what’s happening so that’s nothing to worry about. I learned it was hormonal. My initial reaction was doubt because hormones can really mess you up so how could they be safe? Well, in researching, puberty blockers are what’s used and are very safe. And reversible if need be. In fact the same drug is used to help children with certain cancers that hormones affect. So that cleared all of that up, yet there still seems to be a group that just refuses to hear and want to help these children be who they really are. And then truly, I’ll say it again, how can anyone think they should have a right over an adult’s body? To stop a person, trans or other, from receiving the medication they need in order to live fully is inhumane.

Everyday, I hear something more that’s happening in states, in our federal courts, and in the hearts of the people, that is so far away from what makes humanity beautiful. It feels like Handmaid’s Tale before it became a full Giliad. (If you haven’t watched, do. You’ll see what I mean) I didn’t want to speak up about any of this. I wanted to be ignorant and sit on the middle line forever. It was comfortable. I didn’t risk being wrong. No risk of being disliked. But you know what, I don’t care about any of that anymore. If I’m wrong, then so what. I’d rather be wrong loving people than right for hating them. Or just sitting there feeling nothing. The thing that gets me the most about all of what is happening with all the backsliding, is the use of Jesus name to be hateful. Jesus would be taken aback with our kind of immoral capitalism, our lack of respect for each human being, our callous nature, the use of scripture to hurt others. This is the very thing he was angered over with the Pharisees. This world of hate is not what he taught. The self righteousness of those that say transgender and lgbtq in general are grooming children could not be more incorrect. The fact that there are people pointing fingers while actually covering the sexual assault and sexual child abuse within their own straight white male leaders is nauseating to say the least. The fact that anyone thinks Jesus would prefer to just let an abusive pastor continuing to abuse but call lgbtq+ demonic shows that those who think that way haven’t really studied the Bible at all and certainly don’t understand Jesus. My heart feels heavy for all the people who are suffering today because our nation is divided and misguided into thinking the rich are going to look out for the common interest. My heart is heavy because those that are mad that the government wants to forgive certain debts for government student loans is unfair because they had to pay their debt and the people shouldn’t have to pay for the students’, I’m sad because they are refusing to see the difference in dollars made back then vs today. The system is rigged against us, and people are playing right into their hands. We do need to change, we do need to wake up.

I recently asked someone I know that supports Trump a few questions. Because I know that person’s heart. I asked her why she disliked Biden. She said because of the state of our country and economy. Inflation, gas prices, etc. I told her to take a look at the voting from GOP. They’ve pushed for tax cuts for the wealthy, while budget cutting Medicare and social security, they’ve fought against getting lower pricing for insulin so that people can afford it, while Biden has fought against oil companies asking them to lower prices, fought for a fairer tax on wealthy, and fought for social security and Medicare to be left alone. So many more to look up as well. I asked her why she liked Trump and she said she chooses politicians than align with her values. Knowing she’s Christian, I asked her what part of what the Republican Party currently was actually something Jesus would stand behind if he were alive today. Would he condemn people? That’s not what I read him say. Would he oppress people? That’s actually the opposite of what I read he did. Would he force his teachings on others? I read he told his disciples to shake their blanket and move on to the next place if people were not interested. She was gracious enough to listen, and I think it had an impact. It’s easy to get caught up in a belief that a party is aligned with values because we’ve been told that’s what they believe. But faith without works is dead. And if anyone thinks works is spewing hate, calling for violence against people, and oppressing others, then they aren’t reading what Jesus taught at all. They are using his name but are wolves in sheep’s clothing. I may struggle with my beliefs but nothing will ever make me believe that Jesus would be for the kind of things that many who claim to follow him do in his name. I’m standing up today for the poor, the oppressed, the weak in spirit, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the mourners, the ones who thirst for justice, for the merciful. Today, Independence Day. I hope you will too.