I want to
tell you three stories. I know many of you
have heard them in some form or another – even somewhere on this blog if I
remember correctly, but I can’t get them out of my head as of late.
When I was
sixteen years old, and blessed with the newfound freedom of friends who had
both licenses and access to cars, I hopped in my best friend’s mom’s mini-van
to drive up to our local McDonald’s. We felt
liberated by our ability to choose what we ate for dinner, to pay for it
ourselves and to travel there unaccompanied by the tyranny of our parents. For some reason we got our food to go, and as
we headed back to our car another vehicle full of older teenage boys started
cat-calling and pulled up to us in the parking lot. It wasn’t that strange for my best friend to
turn the heads of all males around us, but this time, for some reason they
began flirting with me. I clutched my
brown sack of cheeseburger and fries and happily joined in their banter. It went back and forth for a bit until one of
them said, “Hey! We have a question for
you.”
“Yes,” I
giggled.
The driver’s eyes traveled down to the bag of grease in my
hand and said, “We were just wondering if YOU really need to be eating that.”
They peeled out in a fit of laughter, and my friend and I
drove home in silence, neither of us sure how to break the shame of the moment.
When I was
eighteen years old I spent the last days of summer getting back together with
my boyfriend of freshman year. At a
house party in his neck of the woods one late August evening, we officially
committed to giving it a try again despite the distance when I would head back
to MU. I was on cloud nine. On the way back from his house my friends and
I stopped at the Steak’n’Shake where he and I met. It was too late at night to eat, but we all worked
there and loved popping in on our days off.
When it was time to leave I headed out to the parking lot and sat on the
curb alone waiting for everyone else to say their goodbyes. I was just happy and felt so alive to be
sitting outside in the middle of the night in the peak of summer. Out of nowhere a car with two boys in it sped
past me and yelled out the window, “Why don’t you try Slim-fast?” Just like before, an instant buzzkill, but at
least without witness this time.
When I was
23 years old, and had just started dating my would-be husband, we strolled
through downtown one evening. We were leaving one social event and headed to
another. We were holding hands and high on new love. I was so happy to be a part of a couple and
have a full social calendar because of the amazing friends I had made during
the first year of my first real job. Once
again, I was totally “in the moment” happy.
Once again, a car full of guys who were complete strangers took it upon
themselves to wreck this moment by speeding past me and shouting out their
window, “Look! It’s Big and Bigger!”
In the wake
of the election many news sites have reported acts of blatant racism and sexism
that I want to believe could not be happening in 2016 in America. As I scrolled through pictures of vandalism
on the truck of someone who is gay, news articles saying kids at a prestigious
high school in St. Louis yelled at black kids to get to the back of the bus, shouts of
deportation, etc., my instinct was to not want to believe them. I thought, “how could the election of someone
lead to this. Surely these things are
not really happening. People know better
than to so blatantly show their hostility…”
And then I remembered the hate I felt from those strangers each of those times and realized I should never be surprised by cruelty. True evil can exist in someone. The pain of being reduced to one
characteristic is a reality for so many.
The need to harass someone just for being different is real. Stereotypes are truly about seeing one thing
about someone and assuming you know who they are. Yes, I am fat – and yes, it is an integral
part of who I am, but it is only one part of who I am.
I couldn’t
stop thinking about the feeling I got from these moments, and I realized I had
to share them with a call to action for both sides. My initial instinct was that some Trump
supporters needed to hear my personal stories of hate and discrimination in
hopes that they would believe these news stories about what is happening around
them. Hate is real whether it exists in
us or not. I know so many of you, and I know
these stories and belief systems don’t represent you. I know many of you were voting for policies
outside the realm of immigration, race or women’s rights. I beg you to show that through your
actions. I beg you to do whatever you
can to stop these moments in their tracks so people know this is not
representative of you or your belief system.
Trump asked for the same on CNN yesterday. “Just stop it.” Nobody wants to be called racist,
misogynistic, etc. Let your actions make
it impossible to attach those descriptions to who you are. Be brave.
Work to help people see the multitude of reasons for your belief in
someone. Help people see the political
issues that mean so much to you that you were willing to give a pass – remember
the pass in future elections when a Democratic candidate might need one. I believe in civil discourse. I believe information is power. I commit to hearing you.
There is an
equally important message here for some liberals. It is never okay to name-call to get your
point across. It is never okay to reduce
someone to one characteristic or to assume you know everything about someone
because of one action. Please don’t
instantly write off a person because of one part of who they are. Please work to uncover and understand the
hurt, fear and living conditions that led to belief systems so different than
your own. If you want to change opinions
and actions, you have to dig deeply into the root of belief systems. You have to listen to understand. You have to influence reason with logic,
evidence and testimony and not by attacking a person. Attack a belief – not a person. I’m not saying this because I lack conviction,
I am saying this because my convictions matter so much I want them to grow in
persuasion. Similarly, don’t judge someone because their activism looks
different than yours. Push people. Disrupt thinking. Question.
But don’t dismiss someone without dialogue.
Another
story… I went to my high school reunion recently, and I was immediately transported to my identity and emotional-state as
a high school student. I was that
person who got along with everyone, but didn’t totally fit in anywhere. I was just nice, and nice sometimes gets in
the way of embracing total affiliation. I
asked Sephus if he thought I would be happier if I had just picked a group and
went with it. Always the wise one, he
said, “It’s who you are. It doesn’t
matter which way of being is better. You
can’t be any other way.” I am sure this
post stands to just ostracize both groups of people I surround myself with, but
it represents who I am – complex, caring, a humanitarian, compassionate, empathetic
to a fault… I decided I would just go ahead
and put these ideas out there anyway.
Bring on the abuse. I can take
it. I developed a thick skin a long time
ago. I guess I have carloads of young
men to thank for that.
