America

Whine Country

Those who whine that the ones seeking personal, racial, societal, economic, and governmental health are impeding individual liberty, are happy to emulate their loser leader. They feign strength while whining. They feign independence while following conspiracy theories and zombie policies, also while whining.  They feign patriotism, while whining, and insist that they are the true representatives of the country. They keep America grate (and sick). 

Those who protest actual injustice, not merely awful inconvenience and discomfort, are thoughtfully, peacefully, and creatively seeking accountability and new direction. What’s the difference between the seemingly aggrieved constituents? 

Protests (and whining) are designed to call attention to some issue. We have all been affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, some obviously much more than others. The whiners just want to do what they want to do. Who doesn’t?  Everyone wants to get back to work, socializing,  commerce, entertainment, etc. The #BLM and associated movements’ protestors have taught most of the rest of the country (and the world) that the opportunity for health is upon us. We all want to be able to reengage in healthy ways, and we also can’t ignore the systemic injustices that have yielded so much more pain and suffering and death in black communities in this country.  This isn’t whining. This is growing. This is maturing. Even as a novel virus spreads.

The whino-in-chief can’t stop kvetching. He hasn’t started planning or learning anything. His schtick is a Borscht Belt cadence of whining. The best thing to do is tune him out. (Thanks, Mom!)  And vote him and his enablers out, despite all the obstacles!

And the whiners who expose their noses know that they have everyone’s attention. But that’s all. They offer nothing (but potential germs). They whine that everyone else has ruined it for them. They love upsetting their foes (i.e. fellow Americans, albeit not in whine country), as their loser leader does. They are happy to ruin it for others.

2020 Whines:

Flabby. Not very refined. Minerally—like the taste of concrete on the tongue. Dense.  NOT elegant. NOT complex. A hint of lead—like the taste of a pencil. Also like an eraser.

Unpalatable. 

White Lies

Most of my life, upon meeting strangers, I was asked, “What are you?”  Sometimes the question referred to my last name: “Where are you from?” My answer was always honest: “I’m American.”

“No–but where are you FROM?”

I was born here. My parents were born here. My grandparents were born here. My great grandparents….they were from Eastern Europe.”

Already, you might be imagining my hair and facial features. Now you probably assume my complexion. You’re probably pretty close. You also probably have an immediate story in your head about what any and all of that might mean about me. That might be close too, but it’s still a meme that popped into your head. Probably instantaneously. You think you know me because you have already identified me as a certain type. You’re like an instant anthropologist.

We all do these instant assessments, often without thinking. Too often we assume and look for confirmation bias not necessarily because of one’s name or physical features, or even sartorial clues, but because we have assumptions about location, or upbringing, or job, or education, or….

In truth, I have always known what those questions were about, and I was always uncomfortable and a little cheeky in answering. I never thought that the ones who asked me, as an initial greeting, were interested in me as a person. I thought they were interested in whether or not I fit a type, and what that might mean for them. To be fair, upon getting to know people, last names, places of origin etc, may be interesting stories. They can be great connectors. When I was often asked by “others”, I never had the sense that it was an initiation into connecting. I always thought it was to highlight othering. And so, I answered honestly to connect. I’m American. I’m the third generation born here after my great grandparents’ emigration to the U.S., which for many whose families fled or perished in Europe during the World Wars, and in Russia/Soviet Union, that’s quite American. Over a century of American. 

Still,  my complexion didn’t convey a story, and I have always lived with that advantage. As a Caucasian, I was never a threat. I was never perceived as a story first. Maybe I was perceived as a story second, as instant anthropologists do with the clues used to identify and label. But my instantaneous backstory was neutral because my skin is considered neutral—white. 

And here lies the problem that we have all concealed: We can’t be colorblind. In fact, we have been blinded by the White Lie that Civil Rights of the 50s and 60s changed us all for the better. We have progressed. Slavery is so far in the past that it’s as alien to us as the wigs and clothing of the17th, 18th, and 19th centuries. And of course we have progressed in so many ways. But the lagging progress over the last few decades for so many people of color, despite historic breakthroughs including the first Black POTUS, (who happened to be the best POTUS of my lifetime), are still stuck with systemic disparities that have proven over and over again to threaten Black lives.

The White Lies are the ones that tell us that we don’t need to upend the system or disrupt. We have a Disrupter in Chief who seeks to undermine any and every institution and it feels like he is destroying the Democracy and culture of the USA. The White Lies are the ones that say that we are decent and believe everyone deserves opportunity without imagining how our systems have oppressed even with historic changes. 

Our White Lies have told us that the Black Community is separate (and not equal). Our White Lies have told us that White Saviors are not wanted, so support has been less visibly integrated. Our White Lies have told us that we are not racist, yet everyone seems to judge everyone by their complexion. At least we can acknowledge the White Lie that we are not colorblind. 

The White Lie forgets about Red Lining, and Voter Suppression (in 2020!), and health and environmental disparities that disfavor (and endanger) many communities of color.

The White Lie is that what seems like a life of doing what one should and being decent is enough. It ignores the privilege of being on the path at the start. Even from less than optimal circumstances, and for those who have overcome great challenges, the White Lie tells us that there’s no difference between challenges to overcome. 

The great shock of this moment is twofold: One is the heinousness with which police brutality has killed black men and women and kids across this country because they were black, especially in the 21st century when the White Lie was that we were so far beyond this barbaric behavior. The second shock is that so many of the people with whom I went to high school and college have posted of their own experiences of driving while black; walking while black; raising black children to be safe. I was floored. I had no idea that people who lived in my world—in a late 20th Century/21st century comfortable, progressive world—were subjected to not just such indignities, but life threatening situations.

The White Lie of the middle and upper middle class (and beyond) is that everyone is safe if they just do the right thing. My heart aches at this White Lie that we are confronting now. 

Like the Women’s Movement that #MeToo alerted everyone to say “ENOUGH!”, and shocked everyone that in this day and age, we are not as far along the path of progress as we hoped or thought, #BLM has touched us to stand together to say “ENOUGH!” 

We understand that trolls are a fact of life, not an old tale. They lurk in the shadows and feed off baiting others. We also have learned that Zombies exist. They linger among us with dead ideas feeding off of us. Monsters exist. The White Lies have told us that they have been beaten forever. We see with our own eyes that monsters are tolerated until we stand together to squash them. 

We have changed our culture from time to time. We have overcome horrible pandemics, and endured horrific losses along the way.  I often think about how the culture of smoking has changed so radically in my lifetime. And Gay Marriage! That was unthinkable, until it wasn’t. Despite the very real fears and dangers of the dual pandemics of COVID19 and Racism in 2020, I also see the creativity and strength that are emerging. We can acknowledge the White Lies and monsters among us, and reimagine how we want to protect and serve our communities—all our selves. 

Prepare For Good Luck

I always prepare for good luck. Now, we are all truly preparing for good luck. My fear, aside from loved ones becoming sick with COVID19, and an even more unmanageable situation in hospitals and throughout, is that we begin to fear one another even more than we did. I fear that the virus will be a brand, like HIV-AIDS was. Despite the more ubiquitousness of COVID19, people who are not (yet) sick, may have a false sense not only of security, but of ability.

I fear that people may begin to regard those who are sick and not in the most vulnerable demographics as being worthy of condemnation or suspicion, merely for becoming sick. I fear the original usage of social distancing. I fear our loss of compassion just as we were beginning to find some. 

There is much to fear at this moment, as so much is beyond our control. While attempting to stay informed, I confess that I protect my fragile psyche with not entertaining thoughts about the looming disaster while still doing whatever I can within reason to ensure comfort and endurance, at least for the next couple of weeks at a time. It’s all I can do. (That, and utter gratitude for all that I have.)

I have always felt incredibly lucky. That doesn’t mean that there has never been effort or challenge. Of course there has been plenty, like anyone else, and I know that pain and suffering—physical and mental–are debilitating. Too often I have been fearful, which is its own form of pain and suffering, and exacerbates all conditions. It distorts and diminishes possibility. It infects on top of infections. And when fear arises within me, I feel powerless.

I am not unafraid of the possibilities of bad luck in this time of COVID19, but I am not particularly afraid. That could change at any time, of course, but now I am mostly afraid of fear (thank you, FDR), and what suffering it causes. 

Much has already been acknowledged about how much has been laid bare as we are scrambling to prepare for good luck across the globe, but especially across the USA. The crisis will not be forever, but who knows how long temporary is? The dire prospects are most unsettling, even imagining the aftermath. As we have seen before, the possibility of compassion and responsibility redefining us as we meet this novel virus is upon us. There is also the possibility of being overwhelmed by fear and losing our greatest strength, our compassion.

We are social beings who can’t be social right now. Our social distancing is, ironically, a way to be social while attempting to mitigate exposure to the virus. As we are beginning to meet this challenge and be prepared, prepare to dig deep to mitigate fear. Be compassionate to yourself and others, and prepare for good luck. 

The Sharpie’s the Point

It’s hard to think of a single moment or tweet that would define this President or this presidency. Each one seems to be jaw dropping.  But his Etch-a Sketch altering the National Weather Service’s map of Hurricane Dorian’s path points to the profound stupidity, ignorance, stubbornness, illegality, incompetency, and as Pete Buttigieg suggested, “pathetic”-ness of this presidency.

The visual of the Sharpie map, much less being held up by Trump, is one that will linger longer than the chants or the tweets. Have you ever seen anything so amateur, much less from the office that is supposed to be the most professional in the world? Of course the entire presidency has been amateur at best.  This White House doesn’t even feign professionalism or the art of governance. They provide fake news and might as well use an Etch-a-Sketch. Just shake it and it goes away. But this one won’t.

The point of Trump’s magic marker alteration of Dorian’s path was a contemptible attempt to “prove” that he did not misspeak about the hurricane risk to Alabama. Like magic, he could mark the path as he meant it to be on an official government weather map and everything would be ok. Except that people’s homes and lives were in danger (or not). People had to make actual decisions that affected their lives. Oh, and it’s illegal to alter a National Weather Service map. 

Like he has always done, Trump reveals his truth by projection. His accusations of fake news could not be more perfectly manifested than on his Sharpie map. His ignorance, (either not knowing, or not caring, or both) of the legal ramifications in the moment, were literally on display.  His lack of talent, intellect, knowledge, curiosity, thoughtfulness, steadiness, decency, maturity, flexibility, depth, or caring were indelibly marked with that Sharpie. He doesn’t even play POTUS well. He blames everyone for what he is and does. He knows it and so do we. He can try to show a false projection, but we know better. 

Whenever you get frustrated over actual policies that require nuance and compromise and serious thought, remember this ridiculous map. That cone of silence that is the party of Trump is complicit in all that is deplorable emanating from this White House. Sharpies are for labeling. Trump is good at labeling. That’s it. The Sharpie’s the point. I hope this absurd incident will remain indelible. We need to remember that we can be (and have) so much better. 

Make No Bones

Make no bones about it….telling someone (much less four women of color who are MEMBERS OF CONGRESS) to go back to their countries is a bigoted, hateful, racist, deplorably hideous statement. It is also reflective of an an ignorant and stupid person playing POTUS, as 3 of the 4 Congresswomen were born in the USA, and the 4th is a naturalized citizen. It’s a shameful and disgraceful statement to say to anyone, not to mention, immature and pathetic. 

In response to criticism that the POTUS is a racist, he declared that he doesn’t have “a racist bone in his body”.  And of course, the responses to that ranged from suggesting that he has a racist spleen, to a racist heart, and mind. 

Apparently, one can say that tweets are racist and have that be distinct from the tweeter being racist. We all know how absurd this whole thing is, and we all know how unacceptable this is from anyone, much less the POTUS.

Make no bones about it, bigotry is anti-Democratic; it is UnAmerican (in the aspirational sense).  Of course, the skeletons in America’s closet have always been about bigotry and discrimination.  The calcification of hate has allowed it to re-emerge front and center, and cause excruciating pain. 

Plenty has been said about the phrase, “I don’t have a racist bone in my body”, which only seems to be uttered by people who make bigoted comments, even if they don’t think they are saying something bigoted or racist. The obviousness is not lost. The certainty of exclusion and discrimination is definite, even if cowards refuse to acknowledge it. 

Make no bones about it, with the exception of 4 Republicans in The House, and one Independent, the Republican party stands in solidarity with a POTUS who is utterly reprehensible. They choose to defend the indefensible, and the shocking cowardice mounts daily.

If someone wanted to express dissatisfaction, they would “make no bones about it”.  It would be a simple, unequivocal statement, not a tortured word salad. In fact, the phrase “make no bones about it” derives from 15th century England. In this origin story, if one found bones in soup, it made it difficult and unsatisfying to eat. Make no bones about it—its consistency is satisfactory.

Make no bones about it, we know hate and fear when we have to digest it daily (if not hourly). We see discrimination and cruelty every day with policies; with cold cases and new cases; with ridiculous verdicts that let evil go unpunished and unchecked; with the megaphone that the Troller in Chief uses to expel gas that gets ignited by fearful, angry cowards who feel powerful by ranting and spewing hate, which they like to cloak in faux love and patriotism.  

People can have radically different views of patriotism and a vision for our country without discriminating. Make no bones about it, we know that those who stand with hateful words and actions are complicit, and we are so much better than those who seek to spoil. 

Our Lady

What a week! It is Good Friday today and Passover Eve tonight, following the release of the somewhat redacted Mueller Report, which followed the Barr Presser/Spinner. Earlier in the week we were aghast as we watched much of Notre Dame engulfed in flames. 

I know you are still digesting the Mueller Report, and perhaps anticipating family and religious celebrations this weekend, but think a bit about the extreme events and emotions of this week.

We shared sadness while watching Notre Dame burn, and relief over what didn’t burn. While much was discussed about the incredible history of the cathedral, and the brilliance of architecture and art that it represented as well as religion, the burning emblem of Western Civilization seemed metaphoric to me. 

What was painstakingly built from a breathtaking idea, with mastery, knowledge, beauty, reverence, guidance,  for the public for the ages, was burning down. To some, the story was the raging fire; to others it was about the remains and rebuilding. It was not only about Notre Dame. It was about our lady as well.

We have been losing our Democracy for some time. It has been in serious need of repair. Then, as though engulfed in an uncontrollable fire, we’ve been watching with horror as “norms” that have buttressed our Democracy have been burned down. In our case, it’s been arson.

Yes, we can save much,  and we can rebuild. And we shall. But the embers are still sizzling here, and some are even reigniting.  

We need more of the lady-ness, not the raging. More than a statue of liberty, we need our lady, our elegant Democracy, to be restored and renewed and built for a healthier future. Whatever your celebration, I hope you are inspired toward participation. And Vote! It’s the most Ladylike thing you can do. 

 

Same Year Next Time

Every New Year we decide to create the past. The year that was is no longer an ongoing saga, but something that happened. That was then. Now becomes the future. This year is a wish; a hope; maybe an intention. 

When we are in a positive mood looking toward the possibilities of the new year, we accentuate the favorable, as though we know how to conquer the negative now.

We look back at what went wrong, and how we were oppressed and/or depressed, and vow to do differently going forward. 

We celebrate surviving that which terrified us or traumatized us, or whatever we had to get through, and imagine not having to face such situations again, because time is on our side now.

We look at History and compare and contrast to previous moments, characters, and events. We  think this time will be different. It’s so many years (decades, centuries,….) hence; we are better. 

We like to believe that we have progressed to the extent that basic human qualities—the ones that tend to drive history—have been mastered. And yet, in each generation, the dramas are reenacted. 

We believe we bury the past with the promise of each new year. Somehow though, Zombies walk among us. The fascist from a century ago; the Nazi; the homophobe; the misogynist; the racist; the ones who seemed to be not of this era, but who desperately want to redefine it in some retro-limited way.  How is this possible? Isn’t time progressive? Isn’t Evolution ultimately positive transformation?

When anger, resentment, ignorance, and other negative emotions arise in conditions that breed negativity, historical moments seem to repeat themselves. Is it 1919? Is it 1939? is it 1968? Is it 1974? When will we have the next Katrina? Will we have another  9-11 soon?

Of course it is helpful to have historical markers—to remind ourselves and learn the lessons of History. We forget too quickly and assume that progress and evolution don’t have to be reinforced. Ignorance isn’t merely lack of acquisition of information and knowledge. It is lack of awareness. It is also a lack of inclusive thought. 

We don’t have to relive previous years in the next year. We have learned quite a bit about how to progress and how to persist to overcome the inevitable setbacks (and worse). We can use those historic markers to inspire bigger thinking. We have an even clearer picture of the threats and bile and just negative aspects of human nature (and Mother Nature) now. But we have always progressed by nurturing the best and creating anew. The regressive, negative aspects will always challenge us, but we don’t have to think like it’s the same year next time. 

It’s 2019!! Happy NEW Year! 

Omarosa! (To the tune of Oklahoma!)

Oooooooh….Omarosa, the apprentice winning

Trump’s own game.

She’s got a book to sell

Some tapes that tell

That a lying, racist White House

Is to blame.

Oooooooh….Omarosa wants to blow the whistle 

Starting now.

She was fine before

Going through the door

Of The Oval and The Sit Room

Who knows how?

(interlude)

We know that she’s mostly a sham.

And, like Trump, she’s a media ham.

But when we saaaaaaaaaa AY

Om-a-rosa’s news todaaaaaaaa AY

We really know that

It’s President Trump’s 

Omarosa.

Protege.

The Comb Over

In an attempt to disguise, strands are carefully swept across and over the other side.  The intention is to cover; conceal; shield. The part that divides one direction from the other gets lowered to convey a sense of fullness and depth. The look is achieved with gusts of hot air.

It’s quite a style that attracts attention, yet it seems glaring that something quite different exists underneath the Comb Over. The effort to maintain this deception of what’s actually there is extreme, and the coverup is usually worse than the crime. Well, maybe not in this case, despite the desperation of the Comb Over. 

The Comb Over, attempting to deflect from the bald truth, is a daily routine of bald-faced lies. The vanity and ignorance, much less the deflection of the naked truth, gets combed over and over and over calling more attention to what’s being camouflaged.

It’s become a very hairy situation. 

Litmus Test

 

 A guy shoots up a newsroom, killing 5 journalists. President says nothing in response to event or to reporters’ questions following the incident. That night, the video of  the President silently walking past reporters, ignoring their questions about the mass shooting at the Capital Gazette newsroom, was aired on tv and social media. A long day later, he stated that “journalists shouldn’t have to be fearful of being attacked while doing their jobs”. But  to Trump, journalists are “the enemy of the people”.  

So, another mass shooting that couldn’t be prevented, because how could we possibly stop the outlier? Each time? Beforehand?  We could arm teachers! Where are those good guys with guns? 

This is a reflection of our culture and politics. We live in danger of being shot anywhere because we won’t regulate lethal weaponry and have poor mental healthcare. Guns are considered masculine, even when women use them. They are the ultimate symbol of American individualism and self sufficiency. They are said to be for protection, but they are for killing (or injuring) full human  (and other) beings. They are meant to cause suffering and fear.

Even those who want to see loopholes closed, better screening , and better mental healthcare across the country, understand that there is a cultural affinity for guns, legitimized by the Second Amendment. 

Why, then, has abortion become the litmus test of our culture and politics? Why has Roe v Wade, which legalized abortion, always seemed dispensable ? The “Right to Life” is only valid as a potential life, but not once born—an actual life? Many like to mock the Clintons’ stance that abortions should be “safe, legal, and rare”, because, well, Hilary said that. The circumstance of pregnancy is unique. But it does include women’s health, and I do think abortions should be safe, legal, and rare.

 Abortion is not some newfangled cultural phenomena that began with The Feminine Mystique. Abortions have always existed, and have been dangerous (and criminal) until I was 10. But the cultural zeal and singular voting issue that has overridden everything in my lifetime has been the issue of abortion. 

Physicians have been shot (and killed) over the idea of getting rid of Roe v Wade, thereby criminalizing abortions (and OBGYNs who might perform the procedure). Right to life?

The President of Trumpistan understands that putting an anti-abortion judge on The Supreme Court will keep his base applauding, and his congressional lackeys collecting contributions. The ridiculous argument that gets put forward that it should be a states’ rights issue, not a federal one, sticks because it is an effective political move to limit access in Red states. Culturally and politically, the so-called “Right to Lifers” have all but eradicated the legality of early termination of a pregnancy, while opening up the floodgates for more semiautomatic weaponry without restrictions on use. 

Sure, there are several issues that delineate the views of the Supreme Court, but none are as contentious as Roe v Wade. Not even guns. We have deluded ourselves across our culture and politics into accepting certain rights as necessary for freedom and, ironically, life, and others as oppressive. Moreover, we have been so divided and hateful over this issue. We have so little room for accepting differing concepts, or compromising. 

Abortion is the issue that most are concerned about now that Kennedy is stepping down from the high court. Shouldn’t we be talking more about the mass murder at a newsroom?