Woker than Thou

Once upon a time, in the comments section of the internet...

That's how all rant-style stories start, right? In fact, my lack of rants over the past year probably has a great deal to do with getting my eyes off the comments section of all sorts of things. But this morning I really put my foot in some comment-section poo and here I am ranting.

I knew the moment I saw the notification that there was a response to my comment. I felt my hackles go up, I felt a sense of dread. I didn't feel ashamed of my comment and therefore fear retribution, no, something much more sinister - I sensed a white lady about to wag her spokesperson-for-the-downtrodden finger at me.

I answered a sad and complicated question (note: original post was asking for opinions) about childhood and race with my opinion (not stated as an absolute truth), followed by a statement of hope (again, not stated as a blanket truth) that any law enforcement that got involved in the scenario described would be understanding of the complexity of the issue at hand.

I wish I was cynical enough to bait the wokest-of-the-woke on purpose, because my stated opinions and hopes, with caveats, was like cheese in a mousetrap. It was really only a matter of time before I was outed as being an idiot who obviously cares nothing for the lives of black men, given my statement. Those weren't her exact words, but it was definitely her inference.

One of the saddest things was that it actually did take effort for me to take that tiny, tiny step out on a limb and give some hypothetical police officer an iota of grace. I'm not very trustful of police as a category because I see that terrible mistakes and choices have been made at crucial moments. But it's not fair of me to only ever pick on them either. Believing that there are good and thoughtful officers does not mean that I don't understand - as much as I am able - that black and brown people are at a social disadvantage to white people and have and will continue to be wronged by the law. It makes me angry and breaks my heart. But to see that there can be both thoughtful and thoughtless officers is apparently too nuanced for the comments section. I really should have known better at the point.

I hate that I have to spend two paragraphs explaining common sense every time I open my mouth. What could be one sentence becomes four in hopes that I can preempt every angle of attack that the next commenter might take aim at. I spent half the day calmly not dignifying the fellow commenter with a response, interspersed with bursts of private frustration where I wanted to rage-type, STAY IN YOUR LANE, KAREN! (Her name wasn't Karen, don't worry. Also, "Karen" was not the one who posed the original question, in case that was unclear in this play by play.)

I'm not thick skinned. I'm also not perfect.

As much as I'm sad to admit it, the emotional and psychological toll that it takes on me to constantly have my moral compass questioned when I try and help someone keeps me from engaging in conversations, relationships, society, or any facet of those realms where the topic matters and could approach anything close to controversial.

In this sense, political correctness has gone too far. It's good and right to be more aware of others, but it's not right to stomp on others who are trying to learn and trying to take steps to thoughtfully engage in difficult topics. "You know what this situation really needs? White women policing other white women about what black people need." SAID NO ONE, EVER. Miss me with that shit.

You in the comments.
You make it so hard to do good, because nothing is ever good enough.
You prevent progress because you can only see the flaws in the attempts to progress and it makes those who wanted to try afraid to do anything for fear of your swift wrath. How can a more lowly being such as myself dare to start trying to do better if you always move the finish line?

(photo credit unknown)

I'm sick of hearing that I'm not allowed to care because I'm white. I don't have a savior complex, I don't think that my whiteness means I can fix the problems of non-white people. But who profits when we turn away people who are trying to learn from their mistakes and humbly ask, "how can I help you?" I don't deny that skin color gets different people different kinds of treatment, but can we stop questioning someone's level of genuine concern based on their color?

You in the comments. You know what? You probably DO know better than me. There are certainly smarter, more thoughtful, more experienced people than me. But what good is that if you only use your wisdom and knowledge to hit people in the face who haven't realized what you've realized?

I'm very aware that I've been the PC-police plenty of times. And I'm sorry for when I've mishandled that, because it blows to be on the receiving end of words that may be correct, but a tone that is meant to crush. The other day, I almost told a white women who was taking it upon herself to school other white women that I only cared to be schooled on race by non-white people. But then I stopped (I'm learning), because I was about to be THAT white women, telling a white women what she could and couldn't tell me about race. So meta...

I recognize my own hypocrisy as a "well-meaning white liberal". I've repeatedly heard (from POC) that nice liberal white women can cause the most damage (more than bigots and hate spewers) because we think that being nice will fix issues of race. And it won't. It requires action. It requires recognizing that you - yes you, holy comments lady. yes, me too - are part of the problem. That our nice talk about "the disadvantaged" is meaningless if we spend all our time attacking one another (ie. attacking other white people who aren't "doing it right"). Action is messy, sometimes, and it's flawed. So more so than ever, please don't discourage people who are trying to learn the right ways to take part and be supportive.

I hope I'm not just adding to the noise by being mad at a white lady who was mad at me for not being a good enough nice white lady.

I think about the fact that if the women who gave me an unnecessary talking to in the comments section simply apologized, would I have written this entire blog post? Probably not. I would have been totally placated and moved on with my day. Sometimes we just want to be heard. Whether its her or me or some third party. I want others to listen to me and acknowledge that life is hard and unfair and that I was treated unjustly. How much more true for people more systemically disadvantaged than I? I want to hear you, and I want to be heard too.

There are plenty of opinions on the internet that I don't like. Plenty of people are straight up wrong or rotten. Sometimes I confront them. But I am trying to stop myself more often and ask, "is it necessary that I be the one to put this person in their place?" If they're wrong, they will be the captain of their own demise, and I don't need to be the one who shouts it from the rooftops to make myself feel more in-the-know.

I'm not here to self-flagellate over the whole situation or whether I understand my role as a white person well enough, or whether I feel guilty enough for missing the mark sometimes. You in the comments. I refuse to become a recluse because I'm afraid of your shaming words. Your attempts to make me a robot who only gives the "right" answer that you've already come up with in your head. You're just waiting for me to put a spin on it or see a different side of the story so you can stomp on my throat. I know, because I've lain in wait for just such a victim in the comments section. It's a shitty thing to do. And it silences people who are trying to find a good voice. The internet needs more good voices.

If you see someone else trying to help, trying to learn, trying to do the right thing, for Christ's sake, give them a hand. 

Hope for the Hopeless

I've been thinking about the idea of Hope over the past several months, never landing on the most structured of realizations or insights about it, but recognizing with a sort of grey discouragement that I do not feel any, nor do I recognize others exhibiting hope.

Gerhard Richter

Instead, the zeitgeist is of defeat, disengagement, and a muted despair.
The realization that no matter how much we care or work toward good, it won't be enough.

The only time I'm an optimist is when someone else is telling me something terrible and I'm trying to reflect something, anything, back that softens the blow. I've noticed this is not generally effective, as if my bullshit is leaking through a little.

Hope is not happiness. I've accepted that we can't be perpetually happy. I think hope is a prize at the end of a race that keeps us focused on the goal. Hope as I've been taught is not simply a wish, but a flame that guides us. I do think that is more substantial than a wish, but then I feel lost when I'm unconvinced of the allure of my goal, or I sense that the guiding flame has been extinguished.

I want to be honest that I don't always have hope. My "meh" understanding of theology is that hope is always there, but I certainly don't always see it. And what's the use of hope if you don't possess it?

I can't point to a moment where I misplaced my hope, exactly. But the precursor to misplaced hope was probably anger that had nowhere to mature. I recognize so many things in my country, my church, and myself that are wrong. That are right to be angry about. And I was angry. I wanted my recognition of failures and laziness and corruption to be met with repentance, healing, and justice. But I think it's quite rare that time moves quickly enough for us to be able to see the full arc of crime, rightful anger, denunciation, justice, repentance, and redemption. For myself, when I can't witness that full arc, I become disillusioned by the recognition that most of the pain I witness and experience will not be resolved the way I want it to, in the time frame that I hope for. I may never witness redemption in situations where hearts and minds and lives are broken.

This pattern repeated sucked me dry of hope. How am I supposed to find my way to a goal, let alone believe in a goal, if justice does not materialize? If I recognize something wicked, call it out, and nothing comes of it? It feels like this happens over and over again, until I'm tired out of calling things out as wicked, because it doesn't make a difference whether I exert the energy or not.

I've been rightly angry at stinging, spitting words of others, on any number of topics.
I've been rightly angry at the lazy, inward-coiled church.
I've been rightly angry at the disgusting, degrading, dishonest speech of my president.
I've been rightly angry that the gospel has been twisted into a burning rod that prods my loved ones away.
I've been rightly angry at the dismissal of the sanctity of women.

I sit and write this list of grievances, and I cry for them. They hurt, and they should, because they are full of nettles to the heart. They should not have happened. And I'm stung that I know they are wrong, but am powerless to right them. I would say I have hope in Christ to right them in his own timing, but I don't always, because the need is now, and I can't see the manifestation of his grace and power right now. If it's happening, I don't recognize it.

And that's where I got some hope back. Recognition that hope was just standing in a different direction than I've been facing. I may never get the satisfaction of knowing that those who've gotten it wrong understand their wrongness and then fix it. If my hope is for that, I am without hope. My hope is not in retribution, but in grace.

My hope is in the fact that as much as I hate the grotesque words and the spiteful actions of my intellectual enemies, I don't have to withhold my heart from them. I know that sounds....funny. Most (maybe all) of the time, I want people who are wrong to know that they are wrong. I don't think that that desire is always wrong. BUT, I have been wrong in thinking that until they admit that they are wrong, I am the better woman. This has crushed my hope, because most people don't think they are wrong. I can never seem to make it past the phase of righteous anger. I can't even right their wrongs for them, and that has tortured me. It's felt so dark, lost, and lonely. Restless and listless.

What IS in my power is to love people who are wrong. To put aside how much I detest their wrong ideas and how much I revile the way they have treated me or others, and say, "I still welcome you." You are still made by a God who is never wrong. To respond to people in a way that diffuses rage instead of feeding the wound they may have just inflicted.

To defend my pride less. Even if they're wrong.
To ignore inflammatory comments and be a better listener.
To serve children, even if its an interruption. Even if they don't deserve it. 
To give freely, for objects can be replaced.
To show up when I'd rather stay home.
To look past inconveniences and see opportunities to offer help.
To complain less, air my grievances less.

I am lighter for these realizations. I found some hope again. Hope - a goal - that is in my power, instead of my powerlessness. I don't have to hang my sense of accomplishment on whether poor decisions are punished adequately. My sense of accomplishment is a poor mini-me of Jesus' accomplishment, which is to say, "I love you anyway."

I didn't directly quote these writers, but in the past two weeks, Rachel Held Evans on the Church Unity episode of the Liturgists podcast and Rosaria Butterfield in her book "The Gospel Comes with a Housekey" have been instrumental in helping me reframe my place in a troubled church and a troubled world. I highly recommend both, for many reasons. 

Navigating Cultural Appreciation and Appropriation as a Global Citizen

As I was scrolling through Instagram stories today, a designer I follow had a reminder to "please be respectful of Mexican culture instead of mocking it in light of Cinco de Mayo coming up." I immediately panicked, wondering if I unwittingly show disrespect, since I couldn't imagine how one might celebrate Cinco de Mayo in a mocking way. I wrote the designer and asked what she considered disrespectful and she mentioned drunkenly imitating Mexican accents while wearing sombreros, and thankfully I've never done that or even considered it.

That experience of worrying whether I'm inadvertently appropriating someone else's culture is common to me. I think about the topic of cultural appropriation often because I know it's real but I also know that the rules of what is or is not appropriate shift and are nuanced depending on many factors. I wanted to offer my take, particularly as a Third Culture Kid (TCK) or a "global citizen".

I am ethnically/racially white from every angle of my family. My skin is very, very white. I spent the first 16 years of my life in various areas of China (which has a much larger degree of cultural diversity than is generally portrayed) and occasionally Thailand. Now I live back in the US where more than half of my city is Hispanic/Latino. That leaves me with cultural influences, appreciations, and background that do not match my ethnic background. This is common to all people with transient childhoods (or extended periods of adulthood) and to immigrants. More and more, the experiences that shape our personal and familial cultures are a blend of more than one ethnicity or tradition. Yet in cases such as mine, you'd never know if you didn't ask. If I wear Pakistani clothing while living in California and speaking English with no accent, for example, your first guess about why I might be doing that might not be that I grew up among Pakistanis. It might look suspect, but I still engage in cultural practices or decorate or dress up in clothing from other cultures because many of those cultures have become part of my identity.

Playing dress-up at home in Xinjiang, China, c.1995. Definitely not culturally accurate of any one thing, which seems like a great metaphor for the rest of my life, haha. 

I don't think there's a rule book that works all the time for what is or is not cultural appropriation, but here are some of my suggestions.

Appropriation vs. Appreciation

verb

əˈprōprēˌāt/

1. 1.

   
   

   take (something) for one's own use, typically without the owner's permission.

   "his images have been appropriated by advertisers"

   
   

   synonyms:

   seize, commandeer, expropriate, annex, arrogate, sequestrate, sequester, take over, hijack

verb
əˈprēSHēˌāt/

1. 1.

   
   

   recognize the full worth of.

   "she feels that he does not appreciate her"

   
   

   synonyms:

   value, treasure, admire, respect, hold in high regard, think highly of, think much of

Even though I understood the concepts of both appreciating and appropriating, I found these definitions to be insightful. Appropriating has this aspect of power-plays (addressed later on) and even violence. The image of a hijacking is an especially vivid association as we can imagine how jarring it would be to be going in one direction and have someone suddenly wrestle that choice away from us and take us in a new, unwanted direction. Similarly, appreciating means something more profound than the way in which I often use it - it carries this deep sense of worth, synonymous with treasure. I was especially struck by the definition of "recognizing the full worth". That's a true litmus test for whether we are appropriating or appreciating something.

I treasure many things. It's called being a maximalist, aka a trash rat. I literally find other people's trash and nail it to my walls, and it brings me great satisfaction! I've found that because of my messy cultural background, I like a lot of different things that have meaning or hold memories for me. Even if I don't have a specific memory tied to an object, I might see an object that reminds me of something or somewhere or even someone I love, and then I want to add that object into my living space. I am also interested in a lot of things that I don't yet "recognize the full value of" but exploring things that intrigue me is a way that I learn. A lot of items that I'm drawn to have an ethnic feel because I like color and pattern and faintly macabre stuff (carvings and masks) and that happens to overlap with many tribal, Eastern, or South American cultures. I find that I also search for things to attach meaning to as a way to compensate for not having strong cultural and spiritual markers within my ethnic heritage. That tendancy can easily become appropriation, but it has everything to do with your motivation, attitude, and experience.

I'm not sure I do appreciate the full worth of every thing I bring into my home or put on my body, but I do believe things have worth and that I add worth with my care for them. When reusing and recycling (thrifting), it's almost impossible to know the history of an item and what it meant to the previous owner. In that sense, we might never appreciate something in the way that it was first appreciated or designed to be appreciated, but at the same time, we have the opportunity to actually add value through a new appreciation of that item. I never want to seize something - an idea, an object, a look - that belongs to someone else, but instead to treasure things that I'm drawn to, even if the reasons I treasure them are different than what they were originally made for.

Create vs. Imitate
One way in which to avoid appropriating is to focus on fusion or mixing and matching. As someone with ambiguous or mixed up or layered cultural makeup, I'm typically drawing from and creating things - food, outfits, spaces, thoughts - that aren't purely of any one culture. Honestly, is anything culturally "pure" in our world? I don't think very many people would argue that being inspired isn't a great thing or that cultures don't borrow from each other in order to improve or adapt all the time!

However, to avoid making an imperfect homage to a culture or custom that I don't fully belong to, I create something distinct. For example, I found a long, red piece of cotton at the thrift store that has silver trim on each end and mirrors sewn on to it in several places. This is likely part of an Indian or Pakistani outfit. Instead of trying to wear it like a Pakistani women would (I did not find matching pieces when I bought it, anyway), I might use it as a bed canopy or a headwrap or a shawl with an evening dress (probably not an evening dress that is distinctly Central or South Asian). Being too "on the nose" with cultural imitation or appreciation can easily look like mockery to others, even if you have the best intentions. Trying to create an exact copy usually only highlights that the effort is a poor imitation. In my opinion, you can't get it "wrong" if you make something that is new, because you're the only person who's done that before, so there is no blue-print to misinterpret.

Adding something with cultural significance into a mix of other things isn't meant to veil that item's cultural significance by taking it out of context, but instead to weave it into my own identity without being costumey or running the risk of looking like I'm mocking someone else's heritage. I'm creating something new with pieces of many different things rather than imitating something that I can never fully identify with. This happens quite naturally with food because food is so tied to location by its very necessity. To truly recreate a Turkish dish, for example, I would need access to lamb in some form other than ground meat and a variety of spices in raw form. Neither of those things are easy to come by in my area of California, so I substitute and tweak. Sometimes it's sad that I can't perfectly recreate something, but at the same time, I end up making something new that has a piece of California in it, and that new fusion is distinctly mine. I don't pretend that it's perfectly Turkish and it certainly isn't native to California, but rather than degrading either of those labels, I hope that it elevates a new, third category.

Photo: My friend Karissa M. grew up in Cameroon and now carries her daughter in traditional baby sling (photo used with permission). 

Thoughtfulness vs. Consumerism
I've already stressed the necessity of being thoughtful about how we incorporate culturally significant objects or practices into our lives, but I wanted to talk about consumerism for a minute too.

There's nothing wrong with buying things that originated in other countries or cultures. We often want souvenirs of our travels, and sometimes we buy items to support the artisans that make them. In many places, selling craftwork to tourists or international markets is a main source of income for people. But I do get uncomfortable when craftwork is treated as a souvenir, in the sense that now we think that object belongs us to (because we paid for it) with no strings attached and we can be flippant about it or toss it aside when we clean out the house in a year or two. If you buy something when you travel, be willing to pay good money for something that's truly a work of art, and then treasure it for what it's worth. Don't buy junk (or treat your souvenir as junk) just for the sake of having visual representation of where you've been.

It's also makes me a bit uncomfortable when we see ourselves as benevolently lifting up "poor artisans." I'm not saying that there is no place for supporting ethnic craftsmanship, but please do so with dignity instead of out of guilt or a belief that someone else's livelihood depends on your kindness. I heard a story recently in which people who had had Western missionaries move to their area were asked about their feelings toward missionaries. The missionaries who were respected were those who treated others as equals, not as students or people who were in need of something that the missionary had. One missionary mentioned in the story had a family emergency come up in his home country. Unable to pay for a ticket home, he asked for help from the people he lived among, and that really made an impression on them, because that's how real friends treat one another - not that one party is always the giver and the other always the recipient, but that we help each other in times of need. Being humble enough to be the recipient of service is a way to show honor to others. In the same vein, don't devalue ethnic craftsman and women by underpaying or overpaying, because neither acknowledges that regardless of our circumstances, we are of equal worth in terms of our humanity.

I am still struggling with how to show dignity to people who make clothing for "fast fashion" companies like HandM, Forever 21, Topshop, Old Navy and probably Asos and Zara, to name a few. Even though clothing from these companies is generally culturally neutral, it comes at a relatively low cost to the consumer, which means that it's likely that whoever made it was not paid very well. Unfortunately, even those of us who don't work in sweat shops can't usually afford clothing that is for-sure ethically made. Buying clothes second-hand definitely alleviates some of that guilt for me because I'm not perpetuating the demand for items that can't possibly be worth as little as they sell for, but it's something I'm trying to be aware of in general as a consumer.

Historical Context and Power Dynamics
I mentioned earlier how I am drawn to things with a strong cultural feeling because I feel that I lack that in my own ancestry. I want to clarify that that general attitude can be what perpetuates appropriation. It's not that I have literally no heritage, but more that I don't identify with my ethnic heritage of French-German-British-Scottish-etc. I'm not sure if my parents do either, but even if they did, my parent's cultural identity is not my cultural identity by nature of my global upbringing, even though we share an ethnicity. On top of that, my religious background is from a church denomination that does not have ancient history or any dramatic rituals or markers such as traditional clothing, artwork, decor, rites of passage, or festivals.

I think that lack of cultural richness is common for Americans, especially because any cultural markers that we do have are so much the norm in our country that we don't even recognize them as cultural markers. Many of us then go looking for something to casually spice up our whiteness, but approach that process as if other cultures are cheap jewelry for us to take on and off as we please. It's a struggle, because I really do understand that it's strange to feel that you have no cultural meaning of your own. For those of us with more recent European ancestry ties or who are aware of a strong European cultural background, it can be a little bit tricky to lean into that, because a lot of European history and culture in the past several hundred years is very tied in with oppressing non-European cultures.

Even though we would never borrow culture from others out of spite or to degrade other people, we have to be aware that in general (speaking for white/European peoples) our ancestors and some of our contemporaries control much of the money and influence in the world. Similarly, as an American, my passport countries' military is involved in many places throughout the globe, and not always in the best way. That is a deeply emotional issue to many people, and even if my own beliefs differ from the actions of the US military or government, I still carry that association in the eyes of many others. Positions of economic or military dominance leave us with a responsibility to be aware of power dynamics and the fact that less prominent or affluent regions might be in a position of vulnerability in order to survive economically. That reality is not a free pass to export or incorporate culture at will. Imperialism is alive and well, but we don't always recognize it because we assume that what we have to offer is better than what someone else has. It's okay to believe that we have a good thing going, but it's not our job to decide whether someone else believes that too. I think it's good when cultures mix, but that mixing and sharing should be led by the person who owns that culture, not the tourist, the expat, the short term missionary, the foreign teacher, the occupying military, or even the researcher. 

Not everything needs to be branded or exported, whether physically or idealistically. Being able to travel and explore other places is a privileged, not a right, and when we use other cultures as a backdrop to our lives or as a way to get more "likes", we're being exploitative. Ethnicity is not a commodity.

Similarly, we must be wary of exoticism and voyeurism. Geishas aren't there for us to photography and Bedouins don't exist to belly dance for tourists. I don't know if modern (or ancient, for that matter) nomadic tribes belly dance at all, frankly. If you do see something that seems exotic when traveling, I think it's okay to be excited or in awe, but people aren't zoo animals. Just because it's fascinating to us doesn't mean that person or custom we're admiring is from another point in time or isn't as advanced as our home cultures or doesn't have modern worries like we do. I know all of that probably sounds obvious, but I believe it's really important to understand the habits that land us in unhealthy situations. We are all insensitive at times, but we ususally don't recognize that we've crossed a line. Even the purest of intentions can be founded in ignorance and result in damage. To avoid that, we have to open to learning and not assume that we haven't caused harm just because we didn't know or didn't mean to.

As I said before, what is and isn't appropriate is on a bit of a sliding scale, too. Even 10 years ago, there were things that almost everyone would consider fine that are now looked upon in horror. I'm sure all of my peers will remember how the word "gay" was used to mean "lame" about 15 years ago. I was never aware of that being tied to any gender-identity in the context in which I heard it and used it, and it certainly wasn't used as a slur in my circles. But today, I cringe when I hear it because it is a word that people use to describe their sexuality and if you use that word as in adjective and only ever in negative situations, it suggests that you think very little of gay people.

If we feed into a system where there is some profit in the exposition of others (performing their own cultural rituals for the sake of entertaining a crowd), those people will continue to be exploited, either by their own economic needs or by modern slave masters, even if we don't realize it. The scenario of a human zoo exhibit is very real to me. I've been treated that way and I've seen others treated that way. We have to be very careful to make sure that our interest and appreciation is tempered by an understanding of the motivation and intentions of those we are observing.

Taboos and Sacred Symbols
There are some things that are always no-nos, at least at this point in time. Slurs, hate speech, or mocking (in word or in deed) are never appropriate, not even as a joke. There are other things that have become so politically charged that I would just avoid them unless you have a legitimate ethnic claim. Usually these items or subjects are explicitly stated as sacred or taboo by those who the culture belongs to.

For example, feather headdresses are part of religious ceremonies for many Native Americans and they consider it offensive for their religious objects to be used as decoration for those who don't share their beliefs. For those who aren't Native American, there is nothing inherently wrong about wearing a feather headdress, but there's really no situation in which that's necessary and since it's been stated as disrespectful by a group of people who that imagery is clearly associated with, it's disrespectful to use their symbols outside of their sacred context. I've heard some discussion that dream catchers might be something that was co-opted into popular culture when it shouldn't have been (not so much the use of an actual dream catcher, but using the motif on shirts, etc.), but I don't know if they carry similar cultural weight as headdresses.

One taboo that was kind of difficult for me to let go of was tattoos of Arabic calligraphy. As the Koran was revealed in Arabic, it is considered sacred to many Muslims. Tattoos are traditionally forbidden in Islam, so tattoos in Arabic are considered taboo. However, when I just went a-googlin', the internet seems to have changed its mind on this topic. I asked about in a forum years ago and the response was tentative to negative, but general opinion now seems to be that it's not offensive. You might have noticed the same progression of opinion surrounding tattoos in Christian circles over the last decade (as a Christian, I never considered tattoos to be un-Biblical in nature, though there are some that would still offend me in content). I guess the moral of that story is do a little research if you're unsure. As a rule, you should never get a tattoo in a language you can't read or write. It will only be ridiculous and possibly even offensive to people who know that language. Similarly, tattoos of Buddha are very much frowned upon in Thailand, for example. Thai Buddists consider it very offensive that their religion be used as a vacation souvenir (it says so on giant signs in most airports in Thailand, haha).

Four sisters who I know who grew up in Thailand got sister-tattoos of lotuses to symbolize their shared multiculturalism. My favorite part is that each sister has a slightly different interpretation of the lotus. (photo from Kara H., used with permission)

Bindis (red forehead mark or ornament in India) and some African-origin hairstyles like cornrows are so recognizable as being native to one group and/or explicitly stated as not appropriate as ornamentation for "the masses" that I avoid those things, even in appreciation. I did get my hair braided in cornrows as a touristy thing in Thailand growing up, and there was certainly no malice in that on anyone's part, but I wouldn't do that today as an adult. I think that if you spend a great deal of time in Africa or India or again, have some legitimate connection to those cultural heritages you could make a case for wearing those styles, but otherwise I think it's risky.

I wanted to touch on blackface, too. There have been two occasions on which white friends of mine have dressed in blackface, not knowing it was very offensive to most people. Just last week, there was an incident at a frat house in our area concerning blackface that shut down the entire greek system at that school. Most people have been told at one time or another that blackface is strictly off limits, but I'm not sure that very few people know why. Especially in the area in which I live, there are very few black people and our education system doesn't do the best job at teaching these things. It's not the act of coloring your skin that is offensive in itself (cultures all over the world do this, either tanning to get darker skin or applying creams to get fairer skin, etc.). It's the historical roots of blackface that make it so unsavory. Blackface originated with white performers in the late 1800s who would caricature black people as a form of entertainment for white people. These caricatures were almost exclusively slap-stick style and portrayed black people as idiotic and incapable of serious thought or art. Many white people at the time believed that to be true of black people. So, blackface was a marker that only ever went hand in hand with mocking black people as being objects to laugh at.

Nothing that is someone's heritage should be turned into entertainment or costume. That's why ethnicity-based costumes (Native Americans, geishas, Mexicans, belly dancers, gypsies etc.) are frowned upon. If you want to dress up as a specific historical character that fits into one of those categories, go the extra mile and add some distinguishing attributes to your costume and be ready to be a fount of knowledge on who you're representing. Last year I saw a discussion thread on birthday party themes (and I would add wedding themes too) that are simply "Mexican" or "Japanese", for example. Unless you are somehow connected with those countries, their culture shouldn't be thought of as a party theme. Imagine going to a birthday party in China that was "American" themed and included Bay Watch cut out posters, soggy french fries, guns as props, and everyone wearing curly blond wigs and making jokes about the most stereotypical aspects of American culture. It would be embarrassing! Even though all of those things exist in the US, it's not a flattering or accurate depiction of American life. (Tbh, that sounds like a funny party, but that's not my point...).

I'm sure there are more symbols and subjects that are obviously inappropriate to some people that I am not aware of yet! I hope that I don't come to find out what those things are "the hard way." I try and keep my ears and eyes open and instead of rolling my eyes when "yet another thing" is claimed as sacred by one group or another, simply do what is in my power not to inflict damage if I can easily avoid doing so. I am not offended when non-Christians wear crosses or otherwise use Christian symbols - it's a symbol, not an embodiment of my belief  or some higher power - but I definitely roll my eyes when I know someone is using it with no idea of its meaning (similarly, celebrating religious holidays without any of the religious significance or belief). It doesn't hurt or offend me personally, it just makes that person look ignorant.

Learning and Teaching
For someone like me who has legitimate cultural roots unrelated to my ethnicity, and for many other people too, there's absolutely a place for borrowing, appreciating, and incorporating multiple cultures into one lifestyle. I even think it's okay to dress up as a specific historical or fictional character that is not of your own race. The key is to be educated about what you're doing, though. I want to be in a position in which if someone was to accuse me of appropriating, I could confidently explain my place in the culture that I'm not obviously from. In the case of costumes, you should be prepared to give a mini history lesson on the person you're representing, not just throw your hands up and say "I'm a Mexican!" or something. I also want to be open to hearing from someone who might criticize me in the event that they actually know more than I do and feel that I am using something out of context. If I did something thoughtlessly, I should adjust my actions. If not, I should take that opportunity to explain that plenty of people are from mixed upbringings, whether or not their physical features reflect that.

I'm also doing my best to let others speak on topics of cultures that aren't fully mine (if I'm with a Muslim friend, that friend should be able to share his or her beliefs instead of me "whitesplaining" it, even though I do have experience). No one is an expert on everything. Take every opportunity to let a culture (and its adherent) to speak for itself on what is and isn't up for grabs to the rest of the world. Different people within one culture feel differently about things too. There is huge variety in what is or is not socially acceptable among Muslims. It varies by family in my experience, just like it does in Christianity.

Always be ready to apologize if you blunder, even if whatever you did wasn't offensive to someone else in a previous situation. Also, avoid talking about things you don't understand. Confusing Chinese and Japanese culture is one of the most ignorant things to me, as they are very different. Similarly, I'm irritated by labels of "Asian", given that Asia is about 1/3 of the size of the entire globe. Why not take the time to find out where in Asia something originated? In my own life, I'm trying to be better about learning countries and their characteristics in Africa instead of talking about it like it's one homogeneous place.

Asiyami Gold is an art director who I follow on Instagram. I'm not sure what her ethnic roots are, but I really like the way she uses more traditional fabrics from her homeland in modern ways. (She's mentioned her cultural heritage before, but it's not posted anywhere and I can't remember!)

What's your take on appreciation and appropriation? I'd love to hear any good (or bad - you know I love the juicy stuff) stories you have on the topic. I'm especially interested to hear from fellow TCKs on how you explain your style to people who might assume that you're being insensitive. Does having a mixed cultural background make you feel more free to incorporate cultural aspects from places you don't have a connection with, because your identity is "everything" or "nothing"? I want to hear it all!  

Get Better Soon

I read this thought provoking and convicting essay about "Virtue Signaling" today which dovetailed so nicely with what I've been struggling to work out in my own writing. Virtue signaling is the practice of talking, talking, talking about how much we care, which is often frowned upon (the whys are explained more in the article). The main point of the article, however, was that more than the annoyance of being bombarded by causes and gut-wrenching cries from the non-oppressed, we no longer trust that our friends or celebrities or the average person on the street actually does care about what they're talking about, writing their sentiment off as a means to make themselves look better.

[image credit]

In reality, most people do care. But for me, I experience this chasm between genuinely caring and having any sense that I'm actually involved in bettering anything that I care about. I've been dedicating a lot of thought about why this is, and how I might change it.

I feel disconnected from what's happening; Charlottesville, or the tension that exploded there but is certainly not new. Pick your social disturbance - it bothers me, but I'm disconnected as things stand now. Why is that? I don't know many black people (zero close friends), few of my close friends are LGBTQ, I know very few Mexicans considering that my city is 70% Hispanic, and I know very few Muslims. It's been bothering me for ages that my Church is one of the most racially diverse churches I've been to here, with 2 Hispanic families attending the service I go to.
Why is this? Well, I rarely come in contact with anyone who isn't like me.
Why is that? I live in a neighborhood with people like me, my kids go to school with people like me, and you can only be meaningfully integrated into our church at this point if you speak English.

A Jehovah's Witness lady has been visiting me for several years now and I'm always amazed by the range of age and ethnicity in the people she brings with her (surely to show me off as the one person who takes her pamphlets ;)). She's picked up on the fact that I'm curious about the diversity of her organization so she brings it up often. I truly am amazed and put to shame by the lengths that JWs go to spread their message. Here in Santa Maria, they have members learning Masteco (a very difficult indigenous language spoken by many of the Oaxacan Mexican migrant workers) and Tagalog at the least. They have a Masteco church (?) plant here! I deeply envy their commitment, even while I know that much of their preaching must be motivated out of the fear that comes from not resting in God's grace.

At any rate, she really got me pondering something extreme. Far be it from me to be out-missioned by a Jehovah's Witness. As I've been thinking about this and struggling through learning a language myself (very poorly) for my degree and in the wake of Charlottesville, I saw one of those little Instagram motivational things that read something like, "Your life will not change unless you change something that you do daily". Initially it made me feel guilty about my iPhone use, but it stuck in my mind and I'm trying to think bigger.

We - I - don't stretch ourselves because we don't need to. We already "have it all", so there is little motivation to change anything. We lay the burden of bridge building on those who are learning our language and trying to get into our schools and neighborhoods, and then maybe we'll end up being friends once they are more like us. These are my observations about my own life after contemplating for a long time why I don't have interactions with anyone that lead me to feel personally invested in the larger struggle going on in our nation, and frankly has been for a long, long time.

Do we really want things to change? I mean, think hard about it, be truly honest with yourself - do YOU want to change? I don't really. I'm pretty happy with what I have and where I am. What's happening "out there" hasn't changed my day to day life at all. But if for no other reason than selfish self preservation, I can see that if I don't take a serious interest in the Gospel - which is meant to be shared - and being loud about what I believe my country should be, then the life I've been resting on will not be available to my children. Some of the harm that is befalling our country is because we have wronged others. Not only do I need to stop wronging others, I need to actually start being proactive about reaching out to others.

For me, there is danger in making my civic duty a box that I can check - I cared (check), I wrote an essay (check), I made a statement (check), I gave some money (I'm not thattt committed), I called a senator (check), I attended a rally (also haven't gotten even this invested). But for me as a white woman who is not currently scrounging for pennies, those are all reactionary steps and they don't really change my perspective or my involvement in a lasting way. From personal experience, what changes me and what lasts in my life are relationships. So how can I build relationships that really make me "an ally", not simply a bystander with a megaphone?

The number one thing I'm trying to remember is that given my privileges, I can and should choose not to use them sometimes. For me personally, that means that I don't have to be the one talking just because I can talk without getting into too much trouble. I can talk less and listen a lot more, because whatever it is that is going on here is not something that I understand on a personal level. I shouldn't pretend that I've felt the pain that many are feeling right now. But I can listen. And then, I can get serious.

I can learn a language so I can go to them instead of waiting for them to come to me.
I can move to a neighborhood or a city where being forgotten by the government or having to put extra effort into educating my child becomes my problem too.
I can travel (which is certainly a luxury) so that I can remember that there is a lot more to the world than my version of it, and so that my children can grow up with an intense knowledge of the same.
I can send my children to public schools and hopefully a dual-immersion (English-Spanish) program so they grow up with slightly less of a barrier between the world they were born into and the world that many other Americans experience.

I'm not saying these steps aren't drastic or hard - I'm saying that anything less than drastic or difficult isn't really going to change our hearts. Is the Gospel worth that trouble to me? Because it is going to be troublesome, but I dare say we are not called to mediocrity.

In asking you to care more and care harder, I'm not trying to say that you don't care at all as things stand now. There are important things that I don't care about enough to do or say anything significant about - I believe in at least some version of climate change, but that's not a battle I've chosen to invest in. I believe that life begins at conception, but I will never picket Planned Parenthood and don't plan to write so much as an essay on my views on the matter at this point. Those are not the fights I'm choosing to pick. It's taken me a long time to realize that no amount of berating can make other people care as much about the things that I have chosen to care deeply about. In a spiritual context, God lays different things on different hearts, and it's really none of my business to judge you for not doing the things that I'm called to. I trust that there are things you care about that you're thinking about and trying to do something meaningful about. But, if you are like me and expend energy talking about how torn our social fabric is and are wanting to support people who are not as well off as you, may I suggest that we - I - need to step up our game and get better soon on a day-to-day basis. 

On Being Political

I've been in a major funk the past week or two, which is why all has been quiet on the political opinions front. ;) There's no shortage of things to talk about, but it's also incredibly overwhelming to try and process the current political scene. Ever since reading that February is the month in which the most people commit suicide each year, my mild depression has been almost a self-fulfilling prophesy. No small part of this funk is due to politics. But still, one of the things that's been gnawing at me the most is the prevalent attitude on Facebook that anyone talking about politics is a thorn in the side of everyone else. It's so smug, and I hate it.

Image: me feeling smug about other people being smug. Meta, baby. 

I'm often afraid that I'm losing readers between the ending of one paragraph and the beginning of the next. As always, I'm sort of working through my own thoughts as I write, but hear me out if you can.

I know that this prevalent dismissal of political rhetoric comes from a place that is well-meaning. Plenty of people can't talk about politics on social media without becoming despicable and plenty of lies are perpetuated with a simple "share". There's a completely valid option to just say nothing at all relating to politics on social media, and I've definitely taken that option more than usual lately. But saying "let's not be political" or "I'm so tired of all the politics" isn't really necessary if what you really want is to not engage in anything political. If you're "tired of all this talk", take a leave from Facebook quietly. We need not announce how exhausted we are by other people's lives crumbling, because that's more often than not what's at the heart of politics.

I know that some people are willing to have political discussions in person or with people they have safe and respectful relationships with, and just avoid those topics online. Even so, there's this rule I hear voiced all the time in in-person situations to "not talk about politics". Indeed, preserving relationships is more important than debating opinions, and I respect that, but I have two main reasons that I think the call to be silent on politics is *thumbs down* (can't think of quite the right word). First, there's an oft-cited myth that sharing your opinion never changes anyone's mind. Personally, I change my mind all the time. There is nothing more valuable to me than a well argued, well substantiated point of view that differs from mine. It's nice to have friends that post stuff I agree with, but it's even better when I come to understand that other people see the world differently than I do.

I recently heard that 25% of people on social media are set in their opinions to the point that arguing with them is pointless and a waste of energy. These are the ones that are the loudest and that we naturally want to argue with, no matter what "side" they are on or we are on. Perhaps they are also the ones who post the most obnoxious and polarizing political opinions. I think it's perfectly fine not to engage with that group if you're looking to free yourself from exhausting and fruitless political banter. Another 25% already agree with you. The middle 50% are the quietest. They may be considering changing their minds or becoming active about what they believe in, but they need encouragement to get into action. That 50% may find real value in your political or spiritual views, but we must approach this opportunity with gentleness, not disdain.

The second beef I have with the "no politics" attitude is that being "above politics" (even if you don't label yourself that in so many words) is a luxury that basically only middle-class white people have. Most people in this world and even in this country don't have the option of not being political, and so for us to refuse to be political is to ignore the things that fundamentally alter other people's lives. I'm not saying that God isn't above politics, but I think you will notice that when anything we hold dear is threatened by those around us or those in power, we quickly become political (whether or not that's on Facebook).

So what does it mean to be political? I've loved Rufus Wainwright since basically forever, but I love him for this all the more:

When I looked it up, the definition was: 

Politics (from Greek: Politiká: Politika, definition "affairs of the cities") is the process of making decisions applying to all members of each group. More narrowly, it refers to achieving and exercising positions of governance — organized control over a human community, particularly a state.

Can you imagine if we made love and truth political in this sense? An affair of our cities? Concepts that informed our decisions that apply to all members of each group? That is, in essence, the Great Commission. 

If your family is divided by borders, you become political. If you can't save your child's life because you can't access healthcare, you become political. If police kill your baby under dubious circumstances and face no consequences, you become political. If your wife is a police officer and can't do her most basic duties without fearing for her life, you become political. If the government is trying to strip you of your last ounce of dignity on the last plot of land that you can call your own, you become political. If you can't feed your family without a job pumping oil, you become political.
If I may dare to say it, if you are brave, you become political. If you want to take the words of Jesus and put them into practice in a world full of humans, you probably have to become political in some sense. The words and example of Jesus demand that we care for people cast aside, and it's almost impossible to do that without being political in a world that operates under the authority of governments.

If you've never found yourself that forces you to become political (I haven't!), than consider yourself extremely blessed and be aware that most people aren't as blessed in that way. The reason that we are exasperated by politics is because we are not threatened in our areas of identity.

This slide from a conference I was at recently stuck out to me.


Being political isn't just about having debates on Facebook or re-posting memes. You don't have to engage in political conversations, but important conversations often have political roots and ramifications. Doing much of anything of consequence will often arouse the ire of at least a handful of people, but that shouldn't be condemned. Sometimes it's entirely necessary. Taking a stance means that you're drawing a divide between you and something or someone else. We're not meant to be neutral in all situations. The good Samaritan's actions had political meaning. The Underground Railroad was political. Corrie Ten Boom was defying her government by harboring Jews, which was political. In light of this, we should not shush people from being political, even if it's on Facebook. Talking the talk is a good stop on the way to walking the walk. I suspect that life is going to get a *lot* more political before our work is done.

Again, I completely get it that a lot of people who post political things on Facebook aren't there to have a meaningful conversation, they're there to feel right-er than everyone else. Brush it off. Let that stuff roll off you like water. Unfollow if you must. But don't demonize politicism, because politics are part of real life, and Facebook is an avenue by which many people share their real lives. Instead of saying what you're against ("being political"), find something that you're "for" and get involved.

To my Christian friends, I understand that the Kingdom of God is not of this world. But that doesn't mean that we sit back and ignore the practical calls to action that Jesus gave to be enacted in this world. Jesus did not come to Earth to overthrow the Romans who were oppressing the Jews during his lifetime. He did, however, send his disciples to witness and love Samaritans, and that was a hugely political issue at the time. Preston Yancey said, "If you don't see Jesus as decidedly political in the Gospels, put some blame on your Sunday school teachers for not being equipped with the historical context necessary to see them in that light. " 

I take comfort in knowing that my God is bigger than politics, bigger than the refugee crisis, bigger than President Trump. AMEN. But my hope in my God should never remove me from struggling for goodness and justice on Earth, even as I am fully aware that man can never redeem himself and that we will never be able to fix this world.

If our faith is genuine, it must drive us to action. If our brothers and sisters both in the US and abroad, both Christian and Muslim, conservative and liberal - if they are suffering and can not avoid being political, we must rush to be political along side them. This means treating "rednecks" with dignity, because they feel deprived of it. This means advocating for Christians who are being massacred by ISIS. This means advocating for Muslims who are being massacred by ISIS. This means praying for our brothers and sisters who are members of ISIS, because they too are created in the image of God. We live in a political world, and to refuse to take part in any political actions means to refuse to stand by those who are suffering and do not have the luxury of avoiding political situations.

A note about marches - I have yet to participate in one, but on the day of the Women's March, I could not shake my regret at not taking part. I think peaceful protest is very important. Even if it has no affect on our president, it speaks to the marginalized, whether that is women or immigrants or other groups. Seeing hundreds of thousands of people, some of whom you undoubtedly know, pouring out into the streets sends a message that many of us are not okay with the actions our government is taking, and we are so not-okay with them that we're willing to say so in public (even beyond Facebook!). That is worth something. It also helps us to see with our own eyes who are our allies and who we may serve. I'm not saying that the people who didn't march or who opposed the march are my enemies, but it seems incredibly empowering to stand with so many people on a physical street instead of liking a post on Facebook (which I did a heck of a lot of during the women's march). It's empowering to see that even as we feel frustrated and helpless, we won't give up on one another. People are donating their time and money and talent to causes on both sides of the aisle in numbers seldom seen before and it feels like the very most American thing.

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a racist. I really try and avoid calling anyone a racist anymore, because being accused of racism shuts the accused down immediately. Furthermore, I have come to see myself as a racist. Furtherfurthermore, as the ever quotable MLK said, "for evil to succeed, all it needs is for good men [and women] to do nothing." Our complacency - our unwillingness to be political, our unwillingness to get our hands dirty, our unwillingness to be disliked - does nothing to stem racism, and therefore allows it to thrive. What is that, if not racism? Racism is refusing to see someone else's suffering as your problem too.

I'm learning that my politics are worthless without love. I have a lot of [what I feel is] righteous anger over what's going down in this country right now, but as I advocate out of righteous anger, I must also practice radical love. That's not something I made up, that's Biblical. Love does indeed trump hate, and that includes hatred for those who have stood in the way as I've sought to do what God is calling me to do. The specifics of what I'm feeling called to is a separate conversation, but it is communal so I welcome private messages from anyone who wants to know more or get involved.

It's a struggle, a daily struggle, to balance righteous anger with overflowing love. People think I'm too young and naive to talk about the things I do or act on the convictions that I have. It stings, but it's really none of my concern. The more we are resisted, the fiercer we will love. Not everyone who loves Jesus is called to serve in the same ways, but please do not thwart me in what my God has called me to do. Please do not ask me not to talk about these things in public, either.

Sometimes I get people warning me that I'm on the brink of "falling away", or something. I try and listen critically so I can be open to knowing what my faults are, but overall, on the contrary to falling away, I am leaning in. I am putting my money where my mouth is. I am putting my foot into the Red Sea, which God did not part for His people until their toes touched the water. Quite honestly, I do not care what most people think of my politics, I care what Jesus thinks of my actions.

If you thought I was political before, buckle up my friend. I am coming out of my shell. Maybe talking less, but striving to DO more. So with moderate respect, I request that you get behind me, ye mansplainers, ye who take it upon yourselves to tell me that I've misinterpreted God's calling on my life, and yes, ye politicians who care nothing for Truth.

Rarely, if ever, have I felt more patriotic, and I'm also in awe of how relevant the Bible is to a political life. It's driving me to cast aside political labels and consider fewer people my adversaries, even as I grow stronger in my convictions. There are innumerable opportunities presenting themselves in which we can be ambassadors for Christ's name, regardless of religion or politics or documentation status. Jesus never asked those questions of people.

What a wonderful thing to see shaky pillars of our government bring lovers of good, lovers of kindness, lovers of truth out of the woodwork. I know many great men and women who have shifted from talking on Facebook to reaching out to their neighbors in tangible ways. But let me add, I still see a place for sharing politics on Facebook. I see it like this - Step 1: saying it on Facebook (it's somewhat safer than IRL and involves a lot less commitment), Step 2: taking your Facebook opinions to the street (or more IRL conversations), testing out how much you really believe in them, Step 3: committing to working with and for real people for the long haul in your home community, Step 4: inviting people to join you, perhaps via Facebook ;). For pushing me to take steps 2 and 3, I thank you, Mr. President!

As a follow-up to the implications of getting political on behalf of those who are suffering, I was struck by reading one journalist's observation that "marching is a seductive substitute for action." In this country, marching hasn't cost us very much yet. I think it is good to march in some cases, but what's even better is to incorporate your convictions into your daily life. Seek out ways to help in your own neighborhood. Tutor immigrants to help them in school. Invite Muslims to your home to share a meal with you. Invite your neighbors with the Trump sign still in their yard to your home to share a meal with you. Ask your church leadership how your place of worship can incorporate the Latino community in your midst. Listen to the stories of war veterans. And if your school or your church or some other group can not act quickly, just start it yourself. The concept of Church (as in the body of Christ) does not cost money, does not wait for permission, does not have to get a degree first. Jesus has already commissioned us, so GO!

Here I am, Lord. Send me. Make me political for your glory. 

One Truth in a Post-Truth Society

I first heard this trend/term of "post-truth/fact society" a few weeks ago and I was appalled. Almost the same day, I watched a movie called Septembers of Shiraz which opens with a beautiful quote by the mystic poet Rumi:

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there." 

I almost shared it on Facebook because it so swept me up in its imagery, but I suddenly realized it was more or less the same idea that I've choked on in the news this month. I do not want to visit any fields beyond what is right. I recognize that much of the space we live in falls along the wayside of right and wrong, and I believe that much of life is up for discussion, but being post-truth is nothing to be proud of. 

Believe me, from a scientific perspective, I realize that Truth is very hard to come by. If I wasn't there in person, my belief in any news story is putting my faith in journalists and corporations, who often make mistakes and sometimes outright lie. With the way that the human brain and memory works, we know that even witnessing an event in person does not guarantee that we will remember it accurately. 

I don't pretend to know very many things unequivocally. Perhaps disregard for even a veneer of Truth-seeking has never been so blatant in our country during my lifetime as it is under the influence and example of Trump, and that is a crying shame, but the murkiness of facts at least highlights the several things I know without a doubt that do not rely on fact. 

In light of what's happening in Aleppo, I've been wrestling with this burning, twisting question of what is the "right" thing to do. In our pain and our confusion and our helplessness, we (and news sources) blame each other, wailing "how could you? how could we? why is this happening?" The idea that "we let this happen" or we simply "turned our faces away" assumes many things erroneously, even if there is (and there is) some legitimate blame to be cast on the US as well as other players. 

It's not blindness or lack of care that we're suffering from. At least, that is not true for many of us. We, and the Syrian people, are suffering from lack of any good options. It's not that there was a good option that wasn't taken due to anyone's negligence. I am frustrated by the ideas of helping boiling down to giving money or protesting. Those things are not bad, nor do I discourage them in any way, but I do not believe that they will sponge out the hurt or the wrongs. 

It feels gross to talk about political strategies while cities and bodies burn. But I find myself baffled at what it is that we could or should have done to help prevent the destruction of Aleppo. I can and do blame the United States government and many of its citizens for debating whether to aid Syrian refugees over the past several years, before so many were trapped and unable to escape the violence. But I also realize that many Syrians can't or didn't want to leave their homeland. 

The "fault" of the situation in Aleppo is wrapped up in so many issues, perpetuated by so many people, namely the country's own president, Bashar al-Assad. I do not see what could have prevented bloodshed in light of the aims of ISIS, Assad, Russia, and Iran (the main players/backers in the war). The US has become slightly more careful about dropping bombs on bad guys willy nilly, partly because it often kills as many civilians as anyone else, but they have targeted ISIS with drones (sometimes with tragic consequences). The US also negotiated with Russia over Russian behavior in Syria, to no avail. Even the media, which is often criticized for covering one thing and not another, has been covering Syria for several years now. 

I could write at length about the misery-inducing results of the US having taken out dictators in other countries prior to the Syrian war, or the possible affects of "forcing" Russia to withdraw from Syria, or about the tragedy that is our immigration system. I devote a great deal of time to studying these things and am always willing to discuss it further. But in the interest of honest news stories and truth seeking in a post-fact society, I do not believe that Americans simply didn't care enough to keep Aleppo from turning into a bloodbath. It is numbing and it is heartwrending, but I don't know what else can be done but to sit with these people in their hour of devastation, even if we're half a world away. 

I feel very uncertain of what is factual, and that is a bitter pill to swallow because this is a mire that we have lusted after with our love of entertainment and our encouragement of open questioning of every idea that comes our way. In many ways, I count those American traits as virtues. The more I learn, the less I'm sure of, and there is a kind of bravery in being aware that you may not always be right. But at the same time, dispensing with all certainty turns out to be that quicksand we feared in our childhoods. For me, the bottom line is that treating people with humanity doesn't depend on my knowledge or interpretation of facts. Even if I was wrong about every single thing I've ever said about Muslims or immigrants, would that exclude them from being worthy of love and care? No. No it would not. 

I'm saddened by my perception that taking an interest in the lives and livelihood of Muslims is somehow a progressive stance, or even a political one at all. Every time I try and bring awareness to the attitude of our general culture toward Muslims, I feel like a main concern of people reading is to disprove me. Why do you, oh Christian, insist on fighting me on this? It's almost like you don't want them to hear about Jesus, at least from my lips or yours, and you should be ashamed of standing in the way of that. 

I realize that this will mean nothing to those who do not share my faith, but I think more and more people will be searching for Truth as we're told it no longer exists. Today, my Truth is this, Micah 6:8:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.

    And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

    and to walk humbly with your God.

What do I know that is true? To care for one another, to care for widows and orphans. Even Muslim ones. How can you argue against my paltry efforts to do that? How is that anything but hindering the hands and feet of Christ, if I may be so bold as to call my efforts that? Go stick your self righteousness and need to be right somewhere else. Do I have to write an academic thesis on my knowledge of the history and culture of the Middle East every time I want to care for someone? I hope your high horse kicks you in the ass. 

I'm not under the illusions that caring and being vocal on these issues is easy or comfortable. I am swift to anger, slow to humility, and the things I care about quickly incite the most remarkably ignorant and hateful remarks, and it never fails to hurt me. I call my sister and monologue to my husband and then get on with it. Because someone else died so that I could experience life, and the least I can do is put up with some trolls, irl and on the interwebs, in order to extend that opportunity to others. 

{artwork by Judith Mehr}

Across Enemy Lines

Well, well, well. Here we are again (I started writing this about 3 days after my initial post-election post, but then finals happened). This presidency got me like:


via GIPHY

But seriously. First, I want to thank each of my friends who answered my plea for help from my first post-election post. I've said yes to everyone who wanted to talk this stuff out, even though I haven't always wanted to, and I've gained something of worth from each one. One of the most touching things was a friend of mine who voted for Trump who reached out to me (even before my initial post) and said that she wanted to understand why I was so hurt. Even though it seemed glaringly obvious to me and I was tempted to be offended that she would even have to ask that question, her gesture was more than I have ever extended to anyone who I would have categorized as a Trump supporter in the past 8 years. I did not think their hurt worth asking about, yet to have someone genuinely inquire after mine softened me immeasurably.

Another friend (not a Trump supporter) encouraged me to search for the good in Trump. The internet says that it's almost impossible (seriously, I Googled it), but I must say that that frame of mind has led me to some little floating chips of open-mindedness in the sea of lava that is my indignant soul. The verdict is still out on whether there's anything good about him as an individual to be found on the internet, but one thing that at least peaks my interest is his relationship with his children. Not all of it has been outstanding, and I understand the concerns of nepotism in having ones children as business partners and advisers, but I also don't often see parents who respect their children's council to the extent that it appears Trump might.

I've been reading my brains out, but the piece that most helped me empathize with one of the largest groups of Trump supporters was this one from Cracked about the differences between world views in the city and rural areas. I'd highly recommend it, as it is both hilarious and insightful. I could go on and on about this article (many thanks to my friend Zachary for passing it along to me!). If you don't understand how so many people could find Trump an acceptable option, make this the one article you read of all the ones I link to. I've even been reading articles that I know will make me furious because even if I can't see eye to eye with the reasoning or politics, I don't want to shut out the voices of people who feel like liberal white elites don't give a damn about them. That seems to have been largely what got us in to this mess, and I don't intend to let it happen again if there's any way I can help stop it.

The Cracked article was valuable for me because it put something that I don't understand into terms that I'm familiar with. It does a good job of explaining the economic woe as well as the liberal ridicule that Trump supporters have faced in the past 8 years. it confirms that yes, their way of life is dying. And of course that is scary and painful. It also has some excellent illustrations of how we all excuse the yuckyness in people who we feel are accomplishing "the greater good." It touches on how we can be civil, or even kind, to people who are different when they're right in front of us, but still lump "those people in that group over there" into a category that we feel free to fear or hate or ridicule. It talks about the Church as a place where people in rural areas congregate for community when there are few other options for that sort of network and support. As a Christian, I believe that the Church should be available for that purpose, but church can quickly become more about culture and agreeing with one another inside of safe walls instead of focusing on Jesus's mission, which is to take love and community outside of the church walls. That distinction is at the crux of my heartache over the Church's support of Trump.

I've told plenty of people why I'm upset about Trump, but most of them already agree with me. As a writer, but also just as a reasoning person, I ask myself, "so what if I can make people who are like me nod their heads in agreement"? If that's all that I can accomplish with my voice, why bother? Nothing will really change. Instead, progress in my own mind and heart happen when someone else is able to present an idea to me without belittling my opposing view. That's what I want to be able to do too. While my grief over Trump as president is real, pitting myself against Trump supporters won't make it all go away.

Even though I wasn't a fan of Hillary, I think that if she had won, I probably would have privately rolled my eyes at the protest of Trump supporters and gone on with thinking that America was headed in the "right" direction, in many ways. For that reason, I'm thankful for Trump's presidency. He's provided a stark reminder to fight for what is right and to genuinely care about the situation of all kinds of Americans.

I must start by confessing that I truly did not care what argument a Trump supporter might come up with in his favor prior to his win. I said as much in my first post. Although my views on politics and even ethics have not changed, I've come to see that my complete disregard for the voice of Trump supporters is basically no different than what I perceived as their complete disregard for what I held so close to my heart in this election and considered to be of utmost importance to the fabric of our nation. I contributed to this rift, and thereby Trump's triumph, and I now see that very plainly. I try so hard to be "in touch" with what's going on around me, but somehow I managed to be very, very out of touch with what a lot of people were feeling. Clearly they have felt unheard, and I was one of many who thought they were better left ignored.

As most of us do, I broke my world and this election down into very simple terms: "I'm moving in the direction of good, and it's okay to be out of touch with what is bad." I've taken pride in surrounding myself with progressive thought and input, which are to me "good" ideas. Ideas that push me in a direction that I want to see myself go, because I view the gospel as fundamentally all-inclusive, which is what I want for America too.

But I failed to remember that all-inclusive means people that I don't like, too. People that baffle me and even infuriate me. People who've ridiculed me and people who make me feel stupid or say things that hurt me. God loves them too, and he offers them grace just as much as he offers it to me. Imagine that! Also, let us pause and thank God that I am not God. Because there are a lot of people who would not receive grace from me.

I heard part of an interview with Nadia Bolz-Weber, the heavily tattooed recovering alcoholic female pastor of the Lutheran church called House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver. She's a badass. She became ordained and started this church with the express purpose of making a place for those generally left out of the Church, and it's became a truly beautiful thing. In fact, it has been so successful that she gained national media coverage and "normal" people who heard about her church on the news started attending her congregation.

She said that it upset her at first because these "normal" people were messing up her demographic of outcasts and weirdos. She even called a fellow pastor to complain about it, but her pastor friend gently reminded her that perhaps these normal people needed the message of an all-inclusive God too.

In many ways, the Trump supporter - especially the Evangelical Trump supporter - is my mission field. Not because I am better than them and therefore I need to save them with my superior understanding of the gospel, but because they are the ones that I struggle to love, and therefore the ones I am called to love.

Something that disgusts me about my preconceived notion of the Trump-base is that they lump the immigrant, they non-heterosexual, the black or brown into these giant categories that they see as standing in the way of a better life for themselves. But that is how I've viewed Trump supporters too - if we could just cleanse "those people" of their brutish and twisted generalities, then America would be good.

I've read over and over about how "people without a college degree" are much more likely to have voted for Trump. Even to me, who is the "type" to have a degree (though technically I don't), there's a not-very-subtle message that, "smart people vote liberal" and "stupid people vote for Trump." When was the last time someone calling you stupid made you want to agree with them? I've unthinkingly gone along with the idea that because my side is better educated than the other side, I'm smarter and therefore righter. It's what John Oliver calls "a liberal echo chamber". I do happen to believe I'm righter on the issue of Trump, but I no longer think that the alternative to being right is being stupid.

Let me be the first to admit that over-educated white people are the WORST. You probably didn't need me to tell you that, because we all have at least a few of them in our lives. There are few things more miserable than being talked down to by an incredibly well-read philosophy or political science major. It wreaks of privileged and pomp, and it makes me feel like this (grumpy cat). Honestly, what was that expensive education worth if no one can bear to listen to you?

I apologize if I've talked down to anyone in that way. I am very snobby about what constitutes good literature (not Twilight), and I'm quick to write off any opinion if it's not stated eloquently, properly formatted, and error-free, rather than being able to set those things aside and focus on the message that someone is trying to communicate. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whosoever has bad grammar should not perish, but have everlasting life. Amen.

I'd also like to posit that "higher education" goes beyond book knowledge. What education does is provide us a way out of our bubbles. Exposure to new ideas and new people does help you grow, and in that sense, "more educated" can make all the difference. But you can get education like that in more than one way.

I may have actually gone a bit overboard with my quest to put myself in the shoes of the Trump supporter. I am, after all, a poor white person living in a rural area without a good job, not owning a house, on government assistance, with mostly white friends. If it were not for my childhood abroad and my elitist media leanings and my breakup with American Church culture long before this election, I might have voted for Trump.

I say this to other people all the time, and then sometimes it bites me in the butt: the easiest/best way to stop fearing or hating a category of people who aren't like you is to simply get to know one.

It's much easier to be disgusted by people I don't know and will never know than it is to completely write off someone I already have a relationship with. I confess that it was a small blow to realize that some people I know and love voted for Trump, but it immediately helped me too, because I already knew them to be loving and multi-faceted people and so I could not write them off as giant dummies without trying to understand how they could have come to this conclusion that I fundamentally disagree with. I don't want to be friends with Trump supporters, to tell you the truth, but I already am, and that's been an excellent reminder that I can and should loving toward Trump supporters.

I understand that many people have felt trapped in an America that is shifting, and perhaps it is true that America used to be Greater for some of us before we felt so much heartache or anger over issues of immigration or being reminded that there's a lot we can no longer say as white people without someone being upset and calling us racist. I feel like being reminded of those things and being pushed to change does me good, but change can also be hard and painful. I understand that many people see Trump and his lack of concern for whether he's saying "the right things" as the only path to something beside their misery and a collective sneer from progressives. My understanding doesn't change my politics, but I'm trying to let it change my heart.

The struggle is real, as they say, but we must remember that in many cases, the struggle of the immigrant and the non-heterosexual and the African American and the disabled has been even harder than the economically flattened working-class white person. So much of the what we love about America is only available to us because of the blood, sweat, and tears of immigrants who have gone before us. Actually, we owe literally all of it to immigrants, some white, some black, some brown.

I've been asking myself whether my dismay over Trump's election and his subsequent actions since the election are simply a reflection of my liberal-ish politics, but I'm convinced that there's more to it than that. I have many conservative friends and friends from various socioeconomic backgrounds who are as frustrated and confused - particularly by Evangelical support of Trump - as I am.

I've worried that maybe my public heartache will seem pathetic to people who felt relief that maybe their hardships would ease with a Trump presidency. Maybe I am being bougie for feeling so sad. But to over-empathize with Trump supporters would belittle the genuine pain and fear felt by all of my friends who are gay, Muslim, recently immigrated, and those who recoil at the support of the Evangelical church. I think moral outrage is allowed, it's just that it can be genuinely coming from both extremes at once and I've only been willing to see it as truth from my own end.

To many of us, this was a spiritual election as well as a secular one. The funny thing is that my spiritual values led me as far away from Trump as possible, and what I believe to be sincere spiritual values on the part of others led them to vote for him. Once again, only the fact that God is God and not man could account for such a thing.

I tend to fixate on the racist aspect of a vote for Trump. I read something that resonated with me, "not all Trump supporters are racist, but all of them decided that racism isn't a deal breaker." When I quoted this to a friend, he commented that "I get very hung up on the racism aspect". No shit. He further noted, "you are very saddened that many Trump voters did not think racism is a deal breaker. To a Trump supporter, they may not even see racism in the equation. To you that is inherently racist."

I would like to point out that I am right on that point (passive racism, of which I certainly take part in at times, is still racism), but I still have to wrestle with, "so what?" Ok, so someone I love (or even someone I don't know at all) is a racist. That doesn't let me off the hook for loving them as much as I love the immigrant. I don't think my bristling at passively (or openly)-condoned racism is wrong in the slightest, but I can admit that it's given me tunnel vision to the detriment of understanding the feelings (of which most are not evil) of the Trump supporter at times.

Some of these passive-racists that I truly love and even respect have tunnel vision about their own political stances. I can give you a well-reasoned rebuttal to every "Christian-valued" reason to vote for Trump (and be sure that I will froth at the bit to get them to you if you request them of me), but I realize that you probably don't care and/or don't agree. Instead, my goal is to LISTEN, and shut up about how I'm more right.

If even one of us thinks we're not a part of the problem, you, my friend, are mistaken. I'm still trying to learn to see the racism in my own ways that I've failed to recognize (I wrote a bit about this before). We must strive not to be offended when we are confronted with parts of ourselves that do not align with the gospel of our Lord.

This election and its aftermath has led to me a lot of outbursts (if mostly inward) of, "who are you to offend me?!" And it's true, I find Trump and support of Trump to be deeply offensive. But so what? My job is not to slam everyone who has offended me (ahem, Donald Trump re: cast of Hamilton). In fact, it takes a much bigger person to not only brush off the genuinely offensive, but to be humble and gracious and not plot revenge for the wrong said or done to you.

(not to put the actions of all listed above on equal footing, but simply that the people we fear the most, whether they are illegal immigrants, Donald Trump, or extremists, are all made in the image of God)

Every time I read something that calls me stupid or entitled or whiny, I want to fire back, but instead, I'm trying desperately not to feed the fire. I try and grit my teeth and understand why such and such an argument is so important to someone who thinks I'm stupid for not agreeing. And when I think that misinformation or misrepresentation is being spread (this seems to happen frequently in articles about how liberals are idiots for not seeing the frustration of the right-wing Church) I speak up as gently as I can. I urge you not to repost anything that calls people names. Don't repost things that dehumanize your opponents. Don't respond to other people's posts with "how lame" or "that doesn't matter". The more we're hurt, the less we want to listen. I've not always been guiltless on this front, but ridiculing (even in a joking way) never draws hurting people in, it only pushes them away.

Sometimes I start thinking that extending God's grace to everyone means liking everyone. But it doesn't. We can and should stand up and speak out against the wrong we see going on around us. I wish that I had spoken up more about what I disagree with about Democratic politics over the last 8 years, because then it would be a bit more balanced as I criticize Trump and his cabinet. Even though my emotion has died down slightly since the days immediately after the election, I probably will be talking and writing about life in America under Trump for at least the next 4 years. To let it go is to become comfortable in a climate (no pun intended) that may not be very threatening to me personally, but that others will have to struggle with every day for at least the next 4 years.

I want to take one more crack at what was so troubling to me about Christian support of Donald Trump. Even though I will never agree on the reasoning, I believe that some of my Christian friends who voted for Trump did so after much thought, and after coming to the conclusion that he was the lesser of two evils. It was not always in blind support of his hate speech.

From a gospel perspective, there was not a good option between Trump and Clinton. They are two sides of the same coin, as my dad says. One is careful and calculating in order to appeal to her base, the other is crass and loud in order to appeal to his base. I believe both of them are dishonest and self serving. In that light, I have to reexamine my disgust at the Church for voting so heavy handedly in favor of Trump. Would I be making the same argument if the Church had whole heartedly supported Clinton, with all her deep flaws and counter-gospel attitude? Probably not, because I lean left and her rhetoric of championing human rights appeals to me. But again, that's just politics. I realize that it is unfair to demonize Christians who thought Trump was the lesser of two bad choices. Still, not liking Clinton was not a good enough excuse to vote for Trump if we're talking in strictly moral terms. Hillary is staunchly pro-choice (which is not the same thing as "wanting to kill full-term babies", for the record) and militarily hawkish, stances that seem to me to be at odds, but incidentally both stances that I disagree with.  

What I can - and do - blame the Church for is not that they voted for Trump, but that they endorsed him and sung his praises. It's understandable to grit your teeth and make the choice you think is best (which is certainly how some people came to vote for Trump), but to sing the praises (I can come up with better "singing the praises" examples if you need them) of a demagogue who has specifically targeted groups of people that Jesus calls us to protect? THAT is anti-gospel behavior. As one reporter wrote, "I think Trump votes are the result of pain — but they’ve also created deep pain." And for the Church to cause pain without remorse is not acceptable.

The support of Evangelicals remains an issue much harder for me to digest than why the greater working-class white population voted for him. Even so, I've come here to say...

Dear Trump supporter. Dear friend, 

Forgive me for ignoring you because I thought I was so much righter that you did not even deserve my honest curiosity. Forgive me for thinking that being right meant I was excused from loving. Forgive me for always making you the butt of the joke. I pledge to learn your name instead of seeing you always as "those people", and I pledge to acknowledge your wounds. To listen to you and bite my tongue, even if I want to prove my capability of rebuffing your arguments point by point. I pledge to see you as a complicated person, not a single label.

I think I owe an apology to immigrants too. I do not know very many recent immigrants, but I use them as my battle ax against ideas that I don't like. I commiserate with their hardship for a moment, in intellectual debates, but I always put off helping them on a local level until tomorrow. As SNL and this prose piece noted, this sickness in American society was not news to the African-American community, and the fact that I'm shocked by it shows how I've failed to engage with the African American community or the immigrant almost as much as I've failed to engage with the Trump supporter.

It's funny, I always feel like I'm on firmer footing as a writer when I'm repenting instead of admonishing. It always gets a better response, too. I believe that both democracy and the kingdom of God need both me and the Trump supporter. We will reach different people and can serve in different facets. We must also challenge one another to keep our eyes on our common goal: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these. (Mark 12:30-3(NIV))



(artwork by Penelope Dullaghan)

Some other articles that helped me adjust my head and heart:
Why calling people racists doesn't help
Why some women voted for Trump
Empathy isn't a favor I owe white Trump voters. It has to go both ways.
A modern creed for those who can no longer call themselves Evangelical
(although I don't think "Common Good Christian" is quite the right alternative)