Tuesday, November 15, 2016

I will not be silenced


This week has been a series of emotions for me...as hatred fills the air and seeps into the very fabric of our existence through social media, news outlets, public protest, and reports of crime being committed. I am watching strangers berate each other, family attack each other, lifelong friends choosing to walk away from each other. Never have I seen this level of discord, and it is coming from all camps. There seems to be no limit to the extent of this national reaction. And make no mistake, that is exactly what this is. A reaction.

As if it isn't hard enough to be afraid for the safety of the people I love, I am also afraid to blog now. I am afraid that I will be called a cry baby. Afraid I will be called a sore loser. Afraid you will tell me I have nothing to worry about. Afraid you will bully me, with your lack of empathy that you think is appropriate but is actually the equivalent of telling me to put on my big girl pants or walk it off. Afraid you will pick up your bullhorn and go off about the DNC, the RNC, and Bernie, blaming me for how things went down, even though you have absolutely ZERO idea how I cast my ballot. Afraid you will tell me I am being dramatic, even though every single thing I just said I was afraid of has already happened to me, on Facebook, in texts, in emails, in real life. I am going to ask you to refrain if that is your impulse, have enough respect for me to not put me down because you do not understand who or what I am actually afraid of.

Let's get one thing straight. I am not afraid of Donald Trump. Not as an individual. I am not afraid that he has enough charm or intelligence to woo our nation. I am not afraid of most people that voted for him. As a rule I am seeing that a lot of people who voted red did so for one or two specific reasons, and were overall unaware or didn't consider the possible ramifications of their choice. Most people that I know who voted for him are living under the "he would never do that" umbrella when it comes to issues such as women's health and gay rights. I believe them actually...Donald Trump has bigger fish to fry than if Inga has the right to visit me in the hospital while I am unconscious because it offends someone's religious beliefs to allow her to do that, or if we fall under the same Federal protections as our heterosexual friends who are married. But, again, I am not afraid of Donald Trump.

I want to take a minute to review what I am afraid of. I am then going to explain why. My shoes have only been worn by me, and have been through every situation with me, met every person in my life, heard every story, and witnessed acts so beautiful and so horrific that the idea of taking a breath becomes a challenge. Again, if you start feeling yourself getting defensive or on the verge of reacting, either close the window or take a moment to breathe through your discomfort before you decide you are going to act on your impulse to respond without being unconditionally supportive. I am not doing this for your blessing or your approval, I am hoping that my honesty will speak for the people you do not know, and perhaps inspire just a modicum of compassion and unity.

I am afraid of religious oppression. My heritage is divided 4 ways. I am 25% Irish, 25% French, 25% Polish and 25% Lebanese. That means I have ties to both Jewish and Muslim religions, directly. I have lineage that comes from Beirut, Warsaw and also from Belfast. I have visited two of the three cities, and explored the remnants of religious persecution as it directly relates to my family. I have stood in a gas chamber, and watched the walls close between the Catholic and Protestant sides of a city at sundown. I have spoken to survivors from both cities while standing on their soil, spent time with children who had food ration cards in their homes, broken bread with humans that can never fully describe what religious divide has done to them or their nations. I am afraid of religious oppression.

I am afraid of racism. I grew up one of two white grandchildren on my mother's side. I can remember one cousin visiting my hometown and being so uncomfortable with the way she felt there that she still hasn't been back, and it has been 40 years. I remember living in Atlanta, and being in a car with my friend Reuben and listening to the cop call him a stupid n** and telling me that being seen with him would put me in jeopardy. I work at BU, and have listened on countless occasions to students be told to speak English when they are in private conversations, the very students who will get a degree in their 2nd, 3rd, or 4th language. I have been caught in a Shriner's parade, and witnessed a KKK march while in northern Georgia. I am afraid of racism.

I am afraid of stop and frisk and mass incarceration. I am in the process of writing my master's thesis for Criminal Justice and have been researching ethical and just practices for years now. I consider the feelings that are associated with broken windows policing, and stop-and-frisk and on the surface they make sense, but if you did a little deeper, you find the undercurrents that cause division. Consider the neighborhoods where these policies are enforced. My neighborhood is primarily white, upper class, and liberal so I highly doubt stop and frisk will be instituted there. Lower class and disenfranchised neighborhoods tend to house minority populations who have experienced centuries of judgement and racism. Targeting these neighborhoods widens the gap between people rather than closing it. Discrepancies in sentencing based on race and gender have been researched for years. Women are more frequently imprisoned for moral crimes, and males for violent crimes. MORAL CRIMES. That is a real thing. Drug crimes are broken down by classification, most with federally or state mandated minimum sentences. For example, in most states the mandatory minimum for 5 grams of crack is the same for 5 pounds of cocaine. That brings socioeconomic status and race into the conversation. Although black people account for only 13% of the U.S. population, they are 40% of the incarcerated population...compared to white (non hispanic) folks, who account for 64% of the U.S. population and 39% of the incarcerated demographic. I am afraid of stop and frisk and mass incarceration.

I am afraid of homophobia. I can remember the feeling I had, that day...I was 31 years old, a teacher, and I got called into the principals office. I was let go...and in the most open display of prejudice I have ever experienced, told that being gay made me unsafe for the kids. 10 years earlier I had an administrator who told me she had spoken with her lawyer about me to make sure I would be protected. That was five years before I was denied service in a restaurant, and six years before I stood in front of my state senate and was told that the fact that I could be evicted from my home for my orientation was not a problem at all. I have visited assaulted friends in hospitals and survived being sexually assaulted by someone who thought I just had never had a "real man". I was at a bar in Connecticut six months ago, and asked Inga to not be offended that I would not sit next to her, because I felt physically unsafe. I have watched friends be denied access to ICU rooms and wedding cakes because the working personnel said it did not align with their religious beliefs. I am afraid of homophobia.

I am afraid of the reversal of Roe v. Wade. Before you balk...let's get real. Abortion has only been used by a select few as "birth control", or to terminate pregnancy where no preventative measures were taken. Cases with failed contraceptives, medical issues, sexual assault, or other extraneous circumstances account for a majority of abortions nationally. Late-term abortion, as described recently, is not a reality. Abortion at 9 months is frequently referred to as a c-section. Women who have to make the decision to have an abortion are often ridiculed, misunderstood, and verbally or physically threatened at some point regarding their decision. In states like Indiana, legislation has been passed (by Vice President Elect Mike Pence) to mandate that women who receive abortion services have to pay for and hold a funeral for the unborn fetus. I imagine that for me...when I was raped at 18 years old and got pregnant. How would I have managed the aftermath of being raped, the decision that I could not live with the pregnancy, and the addition of holding a funeral emotionally? I was not put in that situation, I had a miscarriage...but I know many of you just judged me before you read the next sentence. Without cause. And for most of you, without personnel experience. I am afraid of the reversal of Roe v. Wade.

I could keep going. Environmental issues. Education issues. Infrastructure issues. Economical issues. Really there isn't enough time for either of us to go through it all, so I cherry picked a few that really hit home with me. My feelings are valid, and you cannot shame me out of them. I am not burning down buildings, or putting down the opposition. I am not criticizing people's perspectives, or attacking your post election process. I am turning my fear and grief into action, and asking people from every party to join me. I am not afraid of Donald Trump. I am afraid of the uncertainty and rage that has suddenly become dominant in a country I love, and a land that my ancestors sought to be a part of for a better life for themselves, and ultimately for me. I am willing to fight for you. Are you willing to fight for me?