A week of pipe bombs. Two African Americans killed in Kentucky. Eleven people slaughtered in a synagogue. All these acts were fueled by hate.
I had drafted a few posts on this and that earlier in the week, but I couldn’t finish them much less publish them. They seemed… disrespectful. Silly. Irrelevant.
I have felt discouragement in our “uncivil discourse” for several years now, and the rancorous exchanges have been growing increasingly intense in recent months. But this past week feels worse. To say that I am impacted — that so many of us are impacted — by the onslaught of horrible events in the news is an understatement. I feel heartbroken. Heartbroken by what is taking place in this country. Heartbroken by the shamelessly divisive rhetoric that has become a nauseating norm, some of which, invariably, creates fertile ground for violence.
We all know that despicable acts of hatred have been taking place in certain communities for decades, and in some cases, for centuries. One could easily argue that certain segments of the population are inured to the injustices and violence of those that aren’t their own; surely, what specific media outlets highlight has something to do with this, but it isn’t the “cause.” Causes are not so simple.
Yet “otherizing” is everywhere. And it is out in the open. It is spreading. It is used for political purposes. It is used for profit.
Perhaps violence against targeted groups is truly worse right now than it has been; there is data to support that position. Perhaps it only feels worse. Perhaps we are more willing to talk about it. Perhaps some of us, myself included, are more aware of it than we once were.
Perhaps all of these impressions are true.
Perhaps in discussing what is being fomented in American society we will learn something — something to help us address the complex issues involved.
I have seen and experienced such kindness in my life and often from strangers. Strangers who may resemble me; strangers who do not resemble me in any way. I like to think that I too have extended kindnesses without regard to what may appear to be — and sometimes are — differences. As individuals we seem capable of extraordinary compassion, generosity, sacrifice, even heroism. Our first responders, whether in natural disasters or running toward gunfire as occurred yesterday, are examples of this last.
Still, this week, something has driven me to a sort of silence I can’t explain. A kind of pain that leaves me wanting to crawl into bed and never come out, and simultaneously, a numbness that feels paralyzing. I know I can’t allow the paralysis to win, yet our humanity is undergoing so much daily degradation that sometimes it seems the only way to keep going is to wall off the softest, most questioning, most vulnerable parts of ourselves. Publicly, at least.
I know that words can console, yet this week I have no brave or insightful words to express; I have none for myself or anyone else. I know that words can distract and entertain when we are in desperate need of that relief; I can’t manage distraction or entertainment. What I feel is only profound sorrow for those directly impacted, profound sorrow for all of us, and a pervasive sense of despair.
And there are tears. So many tears.
I want to do more, feel more, say more — something, anything — to lift us toward the light and away from shadow. Certainly, voting, some of us believe, is a tangible positive act. But more is needed. So much more. And at the moment, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
It seems very much like the Civil Rights era of the 1960s, where protesters were vilified as angry mobs and many of the perpetrators of hate considered themselves to be defending family values and tradition. It is hard to even engage these people in a discussion when they see themselves as more deserving than those they are attacking. When I pushed back against a racist remark by one relative, he told me “those people are animals.” An acquaintance argued that, unlike the lazy brown people or conniving globalists (she had insults for everybody), she had worked hard for what she had, seeming to forget that her multiple homes were thanks to an inheritance from her father and not from her job as a supermarket cashier.
Like you, I don’t even know where to begin.
The turn of events is truly frightening. There have always been racists and those that are intolerant of other religions, but now they feel they can come out of the closet and spew hatred openly. You are being terrorized from within.
A concerned neighbour,
Joanna
My husband and I have a dear friend who was our neighbour for many years. She no longer lives next door, having moved to a seniors assisted-living apartment in our village. She’s 95 and as Hubby says, she hasn’t lost a step, mentally, and takes a keen interest in everything around her, including politics. We visit her regularly. She moved to Canada from The Netherlands shortly after World War II having married a Canadian soldier. They met when his regiment was one of the ones which liberated the Netherlands, and he marched with his comrades through Amsterdam, her home, to cheers from crowds who lined the streets.
But here’s my point. She is literally scared stiff by what has been happening in the U.S. politically. Each time we visit her, she expresses this. “I’ve seen this before,” she says, and shakes her head. These are not the fearful meanderings of a frail old lady. This woman is sharper, and more politically astute than I am. She lived through the rise of Hitler, heard the naysayers who thought that everything would be fine, and then experienced the occupation of her country during the war, and she is scared of what is happening in our world right now. That history might repeat itself, to use a cliché.
I can imagine that the few holocaust survivors who are still living are scared stiff as well. How hard it must be for them to think that antisemitism is on the rise yet again.
Not sure where I’m going with this comment. Except to say that I understand why you’re heartbroken. Why so many people are. And frankly gobsmacked that so little comfort, or even any sensible response, is forthcoming from the White House.
Okay…I should end this… I could go on all night.
Stay well, my friend, and considered yourself “virtually” hugged:)