I’m admittedly a bit of a political junkie (and it’s my day job!) but I found this much very amusing. Like a sports show, but about politics! Also, I’m not against an Al Franken presidency.
I could do with both less captioned commentary and more actual commentary. The captions take away from the experience, but the commentary really enhances it. First world problems.
Hat tip: Kottke
My wife, Tiffany, is having a birthday today. It’s been a hell of a year, for a lot of reasons, mostly good, but you know how reasons are, lots of gray in with the black and white. So on the occasion of her birthday, I wanted to remind her that I love her.
She is my best friend, the one I tell all the secrets to. We share the looks that mean this, the tilt of the head that means that, the ancient jokes, the lifetime friends, the history, the tears, the uncontrollable giggling, the cold nights, the despair, and the heights of joy. We have the first house we owned together. We have the first dog we loved together. We have reams of old emails, and years of old texts. We have the books we love together, and too many seasons of guilty pleasure TV. We have those things that we have knit together into our life, together. She is my lover. I know her, until I find new depths to wonder at, new resolve to envy, new whimsy to dance with, and then I want to get to know her all over again. I am amazed by her, her strength even when she doubts, her love even when she hurts, her compassion even when she is tired. There is nothing I desire that she does not embody. There is no other dance partner I fit. I am drawn to her, as to nothing else.
She is my partner. When I flounder, she is there for me, sometimes with a tender gesture, sometimes with a kick in the ass. When there’s blood, she handles it. When something smells bad, I return the favor. When I need to work, she shoulders the load. When she has one of those days, I want nothing more than to take it from her, that she can just enjoy what she loves. I would not have lived this life as well without her. I would not be who I am were she not here. I am in her debt, for all that she has made me.
She is the mother of my children. There is nothing more frightening than plucking your heart out and watching it walk around, play soccer, surf the internet, make friends, laugh, and cry. She is there for them, she is their friend, their partner, their love, their guide, their teacher. They would have half a life, if she were not there for them. I am a better father for her being their mother.
She is herself. Incredibly strong, but not without doubts. Confidently competent, but not without mistakes. Compassionately loving, but not without needs. Curious, but steadfast. Complex, but forthright. Beautiful, but intricate. Funny, but sensitive. Crass, but gentle. She is herself, and nothing else.
She makes me cry when I think about her too much, because she is my everything.
Sweetie, I love you.
My head is spinning with how fast the lash and backlash about #notmypresident has come and gone (and frankly, about a lot of election issues). I had thoughts about it when it started right after the election, and I still have thoughts about it now, a long, long week later.
To be clear, Donald Trump is not my President. As George W. Bush was not, nor his father. But of course I respect the office of the Presidency, and he is the President of the United States (barring some fever dream about unfaithful electors or exit-vote proof of fraud). I do not think he is an illegitimate President. I do not think the military should disobey him as their Commander in Chief (but note, I do hope that, if he should order nuclear launches, the military will defy him, as I hope they would do under any President, no matter the circumstances).
I have no problem with this apparent paradox. It is the basis of nonviolent protest. I will not overthrow the government, but I will resist the policies I cannot accept. Or as written on a sign Ani DiFranco held up at a protest, “I’m done accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.”
And there are things I cannot accept about this administration’s floated plans. Religious registration and internment? Ceding the Asia-Pacific region to China? Turning a blind eye to Russia’s Soviet-style repression? Tripling down on trickle-down economic fantasies? Unchecked Federal spending on tax cuts for the ultra-rich? Illegal nepotism in the White House? And that’s not all of it. The list grows daily.
So yeah, he’s not my President. In fact, in an eerie parallel to Kansas (just one of many) Trump was elected by about one quarter of the electorate. So he’s likely not your President, either.
What can we do to change the things we cannot accept? How do we stand up to this President without attacking the Presidency? Protest, as we have in marches already, as we will in marches to come. As we have with phone calls, and as we will continue to do with phone calls. Get involved in your local and state elections, because trickle-up politics is a real thing.
But most importantly, of all these things, get out the vote. There is no action that will change our nation faster than involving some of the 100 million (or so) registered voters who did not vote, and getting them voting. This is the single thing you can do to make a difference in two years, and in four years.
Monday morning I woke up feeling the most despondent I have yet since election night. Well, since after election night. That night was pretty bad.
But I’ve had a sort of energy since then, maybe a bit manic, that may have been propping me up. Yesterday, I woke up and read the news as I usually do, and it hit me. We are in for four years of unmitigated crap. I don’t like this feeling, so I’m setting about to figure out what I can do to, yes, make myself feel better. Here are the problems I see, in big wide generalizations that surely don’t address all of the important issues. And here is what I am doing about them, personally, locally, and nationally.
- Trump’s campaign, whether incidentally, demonstrably, or even intentionally, has made it okay to be a misogynist, racist homophobe.
What am I doing about that? Personally, I’m wearing a safety pin, both to provide outward evidence that not everyone is an asshole, but also to remind myself to be more intentional in my interaction with folks who might feel targeted. I live in Kansas, and I don’t run into many marginalized people, which makes it all the more shameful that I have not reached out.
There are any number of good groups, locally, I am sure, to which I could give money, or energy. There’s a Social Justice committee at my church, and I am hoping they will help me identify places I can give my time. Our church does a great job with hunger issues and Islamic outreach. That’s a start.
Since the election, Tiffany and I have become monthly givers to the Southern Poverty Law Canter and Planned Parenthood. SPLC counters and protects those who are singled out and attacked in hate crimes. Planned Parenthood provides ongoing health services and support for women and poor families throughout their lives.
- Trump’s Presidency will roll back much of the progress we achieved under Bill Clinton and Barack Obama. The trending of the nation’s voting counties towards the right will lead to more challenges for real people’s lives. The economy will provide less for more. The influence of Trump’s white supremacist friends, his oligarch cronies, and the opportunistic extreme right will turn actual, real freedoms upside down.
In a nutshell, he has the full power of the Federal Government, for at least two years, probably four, to enact the agendas of his friends and supporters.
What can I do about this? I can stay active in politics. I work in state level politics in Kansas, where we actually had a retreat from conservative positions this election. We’ve seen the destructive results of unfettered extremist ideology here, and Kansans have chosen change direction. There’s much more work to be done, especially to make this a lasting change, and I will keep working at it.
We’ve also opened up our pocketbook on this issue, becoming first-time monthly supporters of the American Civil Liberties Union and the Natural Resources Defense Council. The ACLU works to protect civil liberties at the local level with an eye towards national influence. The NRDC protects the environment, among other ways, by fighting laws and regulations that affect our future on the planet.
- In two and four years, the country will vote again. The chance that we could continue down this path is frightening, and must be prevented.
Personally, while I’m not cut out to actually run for office, I have skills and experience that would be useful to those who are. I will continue to be active in politics, in get out the vote efforts, in supporting candidates who will change this direction. I’m well versed in local issues (and the maxim that all politics is local is unquestionably true) and yet I will work to explore issues I don’t know much about.
I plan to learn more about how the Democratic Party works nationally, what can be done to support those local Republicans who are on the right side of the issues I care about (remember, I live in Kansas), and how I can encourage more people, especially women, to step up to public service. Is there anything more awesome than Tammy Duckworth’s smile?
I’m encouraged by the number of people who are looking to get involved, and the number of groups stepping up to offer them an avenue, from established groups to new ones.
This is how it starts. That’s how you defeat despair. You do something.
It’s an action that was taken in the U.K. after Brexit, when immigrants and others suddenly found themselves unsettled in their own communities. It took hold here after the election.
A lot of people have taken umbrage at these safety pins. At first the election “winners” called it a symbol of hate. They said it was divisive. They said that it supports a culture of perpetual fear. Soon after, some on this side decried it as a bland, feel-good gesture that is ineffective, insincere, and fleeting. A nicety meant for white people to assuage their guilt.
I gently say to them, bullshit.
I’m not doing this out of shame. I’m not putting it on to look good to my friends. I’m not wearing it to claim some higher moral ground. I’m not belittling the fears of white people. I’m not pretending a safety pin will magically make black lives matter. This isn’t a symbol.
It’s an action.
It’s an offer of rescue, solidarity, and solace.
If you feel unsafe, or alone, or afraid, because you’re white, black, brown or another shade of humanity, because you have an accent or a drawl, because you wear certain clothes, because you work with your hands, or you despair over numbers at the dinner table, because you dare not walk alone at night, or you lie awake worrying about what will happen tomorrow… you deserve better. You deserve safety, community, and security.
I will work to meet people where their needs are. I will engage in my community to recognize these inequalities and make some difference. But I can’t always be doing that. I have a family, kids, the million things we all have that take away our best intentions in favor of just getting through the day.
So I wear the pin because I want you to know, even if I’m just out getting groceries, or going back to my car in a parking lot, or waiting in some line with you, that you’re safe with me.
I may not look like you. Or maybe I do. But you’ll know me by the safety pin. And by the way I won’t turn my back if you need me.
Added: There’s a lot of backlash to the safety pins, and a lot of backlash to that backlash. The article that started it, “Dear White People, Your Safety Pins Are Embarrassing,” has been reposted to Medium and Huffpost, which means it’s mostly click bait now. (His original story at his own site is swamped, and he has a second, more constructive post up now.) The comments, and I’ve read a couple hundred, mostly constitute a backlash of their own. Here are the important points:
- Some marginalized people are grateful for the safety pins.
- Many marginalized people are not giving it much thought, one way or the other.
- No, the white nationalist movement is not co-opting it en masse, whatever one trolling graphic pretends to imply.
- Yes, you definitely need to do more than put on a safety pin and pretend you fixed it.
For me, wearing it yesterday, it made me think. It made me uncomfortable, probably in the right ways. More present in the world I was walking through. Aware of what the black woman at the radio station might be thinking.
Finally, my bit above was not meant to encourage anyone else to wear a safety pin. It was explaining why I am.
I am eager to hear why you might wear one, or won’t wear one, or what you think about it.
It’s been a hell of a week, I won’t kid you. I spent the entire election season being pretty confident in Hillary Clinton’s victory. I guess, I fell into the trap of believing my experience of the world was shared by everyone. Clearly, I was wrong. And intellectually, it seems stupid of me now.
But I believed she’d win, she’d be the first female President, and that much of the progress we’d made under Obama would continue. Because, you know, the alternative was too unbelievable to imagine. But on election day, with no real reason, I began to get nervous. By evening, as the polls were closing, I couldn’t stop thinking about election night in 2000, when we were at a bar watching the returns, and someone looked up at the TV and asked, “Hey, where did Florida go?”
It seems a small mercy now that Tuesday night’s returns were consistently disappointing, with a long slow slide into a Trump victory, no false hope moments to raise us up before dashing us back onto the rocks. (The Nevada win was too late in the evening, at least for me.) But I felt numb, and kind of… blank. I was up until 1 am, just after John Podesta announced that Hillary would not be speaking. I went to bed knowing the outcome, but when I woke up at 4:30 am, I checked anyway.
I work in politics, albeit at the state level, and I live in Kansas, so I’m predisposed to crappy political news. I have spent the last few days reading and reading and reading, and thinking, and talking and thinking some more. I think this immersion in the reactions of others, like a sort of shock therapy, has replaced my mourning period. I’m not much of a mourner anyway (I’ll call it “wallowing” when I’m pissy), and I just didn’t want to dwell on it.
Now I find myself itching to do something. I’m working on understanding, and understanding will reveal the things that need to be done, I know. But until I get there, I need something tangible, some action, some difference to make. I feel, energized.
It may all come crashing down, I suppose. Some day I’ll break down in the middle of walking the dog, or at the bus stop waiting for my kid. But there’s just so much to unpack, I think I’ve got some time.
Don’t get me wrong, if I sound blasé. This outcome is horrifying to me, in every way. If I stop to consider the real consequences, to people, to our country, and to the world, I can feel the gibbering panic creeping in at the edges of my vision. But these last couple of days, I feel great. Like I have purpose, like I’m coiled and ready to spring. It’s weird. It’s interesting. And I intend to take full advantage of it.
In the wake of the shootings of television reporter Alison Parker and her cameraman Andy Ward by some asshole, there has been a renewed vigor to the gun
control safety debate.
I have been taking advantage of this by asking people on Facebook (an excellent venue for thoughtful discussion, btw) why they need a gun. I can imagine why they want a gun, but I am curious as to why they feel they need one.
Some people may legitimately fear for their safety, because of where they live, or because of something that may have happened to a friend or neighbor, or because of someone they know. But there are always other steps that can be taken to help, besides (or instead of) getting a gun.
I hope those people know this, and can see a way out of their troubles. Getting a gun would be a last resort to me. After all, it can only do one thing.
I don’t know if I’ll get any insight, if I do I’ll report back.
It’s been a year. I got busy. I did get responses, and the most thoughtful ones came down to one thing: fear. Guns, for these people, are a security blanket against an unpredictable world, whether statistically sound or not. Since I posted this, we’ve also had additional mass shootings. But there is one fact that I ate across in the last year that really surprised me, and crystallized my concerns about guns.
In 2016 so far, there have been 328 mass shootings, with 426 people killed and another 1,238 wounded. Mass shootings are often blamed on guns, but also on mental health care, particular circumstances, the shooters themselves, etc. (Source: massshootingtracker.org)
In 2016 so far, there have been 9,908 gun deaths in America, with another 20,646 injured. These aren’t just mass shootings, these are murders, suicides, accidents, etc. These are incidents caused by a myriad of conditions, from depression to stupidity to abuse, to yes, mental health. (Source: gunviolencearchive.org)
But it is clear to me, from this, that guns are the problem.
Today is my birthday. I share it with a national tragedy. I like to acknowledge both. For the birthday, I share it with my friends and family. For the other, I share it here.
On the day I turned thirty-one, terrorists killed 3,000 people in the United States. It was a horrific moment of awakening for this country, a moment that those of us who had grown up overseas thought we understood. I grew up with car bombs on the news and in my city. It had only been a matter of time, I thought, before the United States would have had to face it. American headlines screamed that “The World has Changed!” and I remember thinking that was a lot of hubris.
I did not account for what the United States would do in response. This was a moment that could have touched off a world-shaking drive for peace, compassion, and a better future. Instead, we launched a world-shearing assault on “terrorists,” which has, in most reasonable estimates, been responsible for the deaths of almost 5,000 US service members in Iraq alone, and between 100,000 and 1 million Iraqis. The issue is not as stark as these numbers make it out to be, the world is a muddy mess, even at its best. But that is a lot of blood spilled in vengeance. The world did change after all. And our country was the agent of that change.
I’m not asking to compare the three thousand victims of 9/11 to the hundreds of thousands of victims of the Iraq War. That is a scale that will never balance. Instead, I am asking us to put ALL the deaths on one side. What goes on the other side then?
For my birthday wish, I would like us to reflect on these scales, and do what we can to see them balance.
I have just posted this year’s album art for SXSW, the Music festival in Austin in eleven days.
But all is not well. SXSW has offered one track from each artist as a download (as a .torrent) since at least 2005. According to the Unofficial SXSW Torrents site, while there are a small number of tracks available so far, SXSW has decided to put the files up on Soundcloud, instead. Soundcloud works hard to prevent capture of the music they play, which makes downloading the tracks… difficult.
Go to the cover art page to get this year’s art, and find out how to let SXSW know that you don’t like this.