On Civility

            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.