Well, I came out of the closet, and now I want back in.
So I’m picking up my
pieces. (For others, this is not easily done.)
Really, just when I’m thinking now is the time to let go,
something crazy happens. Let’s talk in tweet-speak, in sound bite savvy, powerpoint-appropriate
language. My random dispatches from the dark of my closet.
Reconciliation
How do I possibly seek reconciliation with all those I
offended while maintaining my positions? Must I relent? What if I can’t? What
if I just can’t?
Must they?
Thanksgiving was a familial pause, a respite of sorts,
albeit Jill Stein lurked in the background, auditing votes. Though not explicitly
forbidden from bringing up the election at the dinner table, I could tell my
political discourse was not something that anyone was looking forward to
hearing. Actually, Tim and I almost came to blows in the mini-van—kids in back—because
I wanted to let loose with my Deplorable Speech.
For the record, I never called anyone a racist.
Deplorable. I
called them Deplorable.
Now, reconciliation.
Can we just get on with this reconciliation business?
Let’s put it out there: I know that many of you are not
deplorable. I understand that many of you are fiercely opposed to abortion. I
understand that many of you are not racists.
What if that’s the
best I can do?
May I—for fun and convenience—keep calling the other
contingent, the other half, by this moniker, The Deplorables?
Is my reconciliation-offer false if I hold onto the deplorability
issue?
We’ve spent a lot of really horrible time asking, “What’s
worse—abortion or racism?” I’m going to reject this entirely. Entirely.
I’m going to suggest that this awful dichotomy ruined this
election, and it’s going to send me back into the closet where I truly belong,
anyways.
Woody Allen, who all of my white Evangelical friends would
never dream of electing for president, has an awesome little movie called Crimes and Misdemeanors. I think we
might call our last presidential “election” Crimes
and Misnomers. Pitting racism against abortion is the biggest misnomer
around.
Rather than emphasizing the dichotomy, might we emphasize
platform and character? This is what I think (about the non-deplorable voter in
both parties):
1.
Some vote
for the party platform. Many, many people I genuinely respect told me how
they supported the Republican platform, and not Trump. Most of this had to do
with abortion, but also political philosophy on small government and
individualism and capitalism. These Republicans were mostly, if not
exclusively, white evangelicals. The White Evangelical crowd. And it’s their
closet from which I emerged. I went public this election as a writer, who
identifies as a Christian. (I’ve written elsewhere about why I prefer the
closet, most reasons having to do with the fact that secular humanists seem to
make better Art.) Now, despite their non-deplorability—most white Evangelicals really aren’t racists, guys—I want back in
the closet. Sorry I came out. I don’t want to be associated with this guy.
2.
Some vote on
the basis of character. For me, character was super important, though I
concede entirely that I truly do not know Hillary Clinton’s character. I will
say that I found her, like, 100% less repugnant than Trump. Character, in
essence, was necessarily reduced to presentation. My vote was connected to this.
Presentation. I kept picturing Trump
hosting a Japanese or Turkish diplomat at the White House, Melania and
Barron making noises in the next room,
or Trump holding peace talks or negotiating trade deals around some great big
wooden table with stacks of unread reports before him. Maybe a little gold
crown skewed on top of his head. An Alec Baldwin pucker on his lips. A bevy of
military generals whispering directions for the coups d'état in his ear. That vision was enough for me (not to mention the
other stuff). My guess—is this true?—the non-Deplorable
Trump-supporters do not value character over platform.
Am I right?
And this is the only proper dichotomy to offer up—in speaking
specifically of White Evangelicals. Some of us value the platform more; some of
us value character more.
With these ideas, is reconciliation possible?
Abortion
As I already said, I hate that the life of the unborn is
somehow pitted against the born.
I hate that my Christianity is somehow questionable because
I opted for character/presentation over platform.
We watched 13th, the
documentary, this past weekend. I'm wondering if there will EVER be any sense
to an argument to save the unborn, if there's no equal dignity for the born. I
really think the logic is suffering here, and the weird pro-life recourse is to
deny systemic racism and carry on, or appeal to legislative actions already in
place against racism. Racist stuff is illegal. Abortion is legal. Go after the legislature!
Sounds smart, right?
What if I reject this?
What if I tell you
that I think this idea of privileging legislation as the force of cultural
change sounds a little naïve about the real forces behind cultural change?
What if I tell you
that this is why I’m going back in the closet? Over the forces of cultural
change?
This privileging of legislation is premised on the idea that
the government is the most basic, most foundational way to combat ideas. I do wholly
support legislation meant to protect all humans; I do not think it is foundational. I think—really, truly—philosophical
contemplation and cultural milieu-shaping forces are more weighty than legislation.
I have my own predisposition towards privileging Art as the
most important force behind cultural change. I’m not going to say it is; I
will, however, say that it’s more forceful over political
legislation in shaping humanity.
So, well, I kinda find
the White Evangelicals, um, artless.
I spent some time banging on my drums during the election,
talking about the potential cultural violence of a Trump presidency. No matter
what I said or how eloquently I put it, my rant on “cultural violence” was
rejected.
(Allow me to explain what I mean by cultural violence: Supporters keeps telling me how Trump may be
uncouth, and he may be an idiot, and he may not be super sensitive—but he’s
probably not really a racist himself.
This is beside the point. I might even
agree, barely. The point is that he unleashed the Deplorables. Hate-crimes,
white supremacy sentiment, anti-Muslim frenzy. We didn’t need this. The country
didn’t need this. This is a kind of cultural
violence. This is the real danger, in my opinion, of the casino-thing, the
trade-in wife habit, the handholding with the porn industry; I do not fear
legislation; I fear cultural violence.)
The battle against abortion has been reduced to a
legislative battle.
Racism has been dismissed as non-existent, or as a “sin
problem.”
“A Sin Problem”
May I tell you a secret? I hope I don’t get in trouble for
this one. I think I’d say that one of the most damaging things the Church has
done has been the tongue-clucking, eye-rolling, lumping-together of miscellaneous
issues under the ubiquitous heading of “a sin problem.”
This is how I’ve often heard racism discussed. The rhetoric,
with which I’m very familiar as a White Evangelical insider, goes something
like this: “Racism is sin, the failure to acknowledge God, the failure to
recognize that all humans are made in the Image of God.” With that being said, we
know what we need to do: focus on God.
Damage done.
I’m sorry.
I do not want to disregard this need to focus on God; I am
going to assert that the unintended result of saying that racism is just a sin
problem is that sin is dismissed, minimized.
That people are left
hurting and vulnerable.
American racism warrants our unique American attention.
Yes, sin is sin. But America is uniquely American. How do we come
to terms with our Americanness? In the
same way that Monet was definitely French, or music that came out of Castro's
Cuba was distinctly Cuban, are there distinct American aspects to our cultural
phenomena?
Racism is racism is
racism?
No.
It is, then, only part of the story when we call racism “a
sin problem”? Though racism is global, American racism should not be reduced to
other kinds of racism. We are not talking about the Hutus and the Tutsis. American
racism is uniquely American.
We are talking about
American racism.
Systemic Racism
Too many naysayers. Watch 13th. Study history. Read some books. Please, read some
books.
The American Narrative
I’ve become increasingly interested in this idea. I’ve
always been interested in the notion of the Great American Novel, primarily
because I wanted to write it. Was it The
Catcher in the Rye? The Great Gatsby?
Well, every American writer—lowly me included—is eventually
confronted with this quote from Ernest Hemingway, “All modern American
literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn. American writing comes from that.”
Folks, he was right. This is our literary history. Other
topics are worried over. The United States is vast and allows for a
multiplicity of subject matter. But this is our theme, our central—inescapable—narrative.
Racism is our literary legacy. Our shackles, our chains. The
American Story. And it demands reconciliation.
I’m going to make an offer to the White
Evangelical crowd. I won’t push it. I’ll see if I have any takers. I’m going to
offer to lead a college-level free class on this American Narrative. I’m
serious. The workload will consist mostly of reading, some film, and
discussion.
The readings will be as follows:
James Baldwin: Go
Tell it On the Mountain
Ta-Nehisi Coates: Between
the World and Me
Ralph Ellison: The
Invisible Man
Yaa Gyasi: Homegoing
James McBride: The
Color of Water AND/OR James
McBride: The Good Lord Bird
Toni Morrison: Beloved
Solomon Northup:
Twelve Years A Slave AND/OR the film
Harriet Beecher
Stowe: Uncle Tom’s Cabin
Mark Twain: Huckleberry Finn (at the end!)
Colson Whitehead:
The Underground Railroad
Jaqueline Woodson:
Brown Girl Dreaming
I need some more women on there. Maybe a little Maya Angelou.
I’m absurdly unqualified. A white girl, altogether. (This probably upsets some
people; who better to talk to White Evangelicals?) Not a literary scholar. No
African-American lit focus.
Just someone peeking out of the closet.