Continuing the Long Walk to Freedom

I just finished Nelson Mandela's Long Walk to Freedom. There are so many important facets to this memoir documenting Mandela's life and the South African fight against racism and oppression (a fight that they are still embroiled in today), and I feel like the complexity of this work lends itself well to reflecting on the complex social issues we face right now. I would encourage everyone to give it a read. For those of you that do not have the time or desire, here are a few things that stood out to me:

1. We need to stop demonizing everyone who disagrees with us. One of the reasons Nelson Mandela was able to achieve victory in ending the apartheid was by finding humanity in those who should have hated. If he could still manage to find goodness and common ground with the people the imprisoned him for thirty years, I think we can do better to at doing the same to people who simply express a different viewpoint than us on social media. That doesn’t mean we should entertain the ideas of bigots and racists—they should be condemned—but it does mean we shouldn’t castigate those who have a different, nuanced perspective on an issue than we do. (Interestingly enough, South Africa is also still dealing with the undergirding systemic racism and oppression that could not simply end overnight after being reinforced for centuries, the difference being that Africans and people of color are the majority in their nation, not the minority.) “I always knew that deep down in every human heart, there is mercy and generosity. No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite. Even in the grimmest times in prison, when my comrades and I were pushed to our limits, I would see a glimmer of humanity in one of the guards, perhaps just for a second, but it was enough to reassure me and keep me going. Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished.”

2. The Black Lives Matter movement, in the end, will help all lives—both those currently being oppressed and those (even unwittingly) engaging in oppression. The rising tide against injustice towards people of color will help everyone, including the white majority. While I have never considered myself to be a bigoted or ignorant person, I have not always been “antiracist”. It is freeing to become aware of the biases that have tainted my worldview. Consequently, the movement to “defund the police” (which is not as radical as the branding makes it sound) will free up honorable men and women serving in law enforcement to deal with crime in a way that will not deprive them of their humanity. African Americans and people of color have unequivocally been on the receiving end of a system stacked against them more than the police. They cannot choose not to be black (nor should they have to since their heritage is something to be celebrated), and they cannot simply “clockout” of their skin color. However, with that said, how many officers lives have been ruined because they had only been trained to respond violently or with deadly force to a situation that would have better been suited for a social worker, psychologist, or addiction expert? How many have stood by and watched as their colleague abused their power because they are taught to be loyal to the badge rather than human life? How many officers acted on their own undergirding or subconscious biases because they had not received proper diversity training or engaged in meaningful self-reflection on their own social blind spots? How many officers are now being unfairly stereotyped racist because they are part of a broken criminal justice system that is racist? In this sense, “Black Lives Matter” and “Blue Lives Matter” are not mutually exclusive slogans. “I knew as well as I knew anything that the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed. A man who takes away another man’s freedom is a prisoner of hatred, he is locked behind the bars of prejudice and narrow-mindedness. I am not truly free if I am taking away someone else’s freedom, just as surely as I am not free when my freedom is taken from me. The oppressed and the oppressor alike are robbed of their humanity.”

3. One of the most difficult things about tackling the issue of systemic racism is that it is such a complex issue and there are so many components that need to be dismantled. It is hard to know where to even start. Add to this the fact that, as a white male, I am conscious that I am an ally in this fight who does not ever want his “antiracism” to become performative, and it becomes easier to convince myself to stay silent rather than speak—especially if it means going out on some uncomfortable limbs. In some ways, I am even more at a loss as to how to make a difference in the fight against social injustice than I am with how to fix a dripping faucet.

Laura

will confirm that I am the least “handy” person in the world—what I have in “book smarts” I lack equally in “street smarts”, but luckily she is the real life version of Macguyver, so it all works out). However, just because I am not sure exactly how to fix the leak doesn’t mean that I can or should pretend that it doesn’t exist. The smallest drip in poor judgement can eventually become a flood of prejudice if left unchecked. To prevent this slow descent into ignorance from happening, I can start with educating myself—and by extension—raising the awareness of those around me. While this solution may not be as immediate as those suffering from injustice want or deserve, education is the only solution that will eradicate hatred and bigotry in the long term. This means I need to become more educated in terms of history (not just the sanitized version I received growing up, but one that takes into account the perspectives or different ethnicities, genders, belief systems, etc.). This also means I need to be more educated about who I am as a person and be willing to engage in meaningful self-reflection—not just now, but for the rest of my life. Being “anti-racist” is not something you master and then forget about, it is a life long pursuit that requires your vigilance constantly as the plague takes on new shapes or forms. So, if you are wondering where to start on your journey to becoming anti-racist (and you can start no matter your past beliefs or age), start with educating yourself. “Education is the great engine of personal development. It is through education that the daughter of a peasant can become a doctor, that the son of a mineworker can become the head of the mine, that a child of farmworkers can become the president of a great nation. It is what we make out of what we have, not what we are given, that separates one person from another.”

4. I firmly believe that peaceful and nonviolent protesting should always be the first sought solution, and despite the few instances of people hijacking the movement for their own complex reasons, I believe that it has been. The far left will have you believe that police officers are attacking peaceful protesters on a whim while the far right will have you believe that every protestor violently antagonizing the police, vandalizing public property, or looting a family owned small-business. With that said (and this may be unpopular to many), there comes a time when “peaceful”, noncriminal protesting is ineffectual—especially when the forces you are protesting against become criminal themselves. It is easy for us to forget that Martin Luther King Jr. was extremely unpopular while he was alive and lambasted as a criminal by those hoping his rhetoric would not take root. Nelson Mandela and his organization (the ANC) were labeled as being criminal and Communist by the state. (Interestingly enough, those buzzwords apparently still hold sway today as those labels are being used to discredit the BLM movement today). As a privileged white male, it would be easy for me to sit on the couch and watch protests that make me uncomfortable and think, “They are taking this too far,” when I have never and probably will never face the oppression they do nor the years of waiting peacefully and passively for things to get better when they haven’t. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied.” Does this mean I support protestors who engage in violent or felonious behavior behavior? Of course not. Does that mean I support those who stay up past a curfew, refuse to move from an important/symbolic place? Absolutely. Also, I am beginning to recognize like Nelson Mandela did, that the responsibility for de-escalation for a conflict rests primarily with the oppressor—and while both sides need to be willing to have tough, complex conversations with the other rather than polarizing in their own pools of hate—the oppressor should take the first step towards reconciliation. So, if mainstream society would like to see the protest movement become less militant, it may be incumbent on us (the white majority) to stand up to systems of oppression that have caused such strong reactions from people of color. It may be incumbent on society generally and our elected leaders more specifically to sit and listen rather than gravitate towards a forceful, violent response that will only escalate the conflict. Can you really claim the moral high ground if you are on the side of “law and order” that often serves as code for firing rubber bullets and tear gas into crowds of protestors? “Nonviolent passive resistance is effective as long as your opposition adheres to the same rules as you do. But if peaceful protest is met with violence, its efficacy is at an end. For me, nonviolence was not a moral principle but a strategy; there is no moral goodness in using an ineffective weapon. “A freedom fighter learns the hard way that it is the oppressor who defines the nature of the struggle and the oppressed is often left no recourse but to use methods that mirror those of the oppressor. At a point, one can only fight fire with fire”.

While this post may seem like a long-winded downer, I am actually more hopeful now than I have been at any time in recent memory. Nelson Mandela makes the point that, “A Nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but it's lowest ones," and his life and legacy is one that can remind everyone that “as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Rising with the Occasion

I love history. I have as far back as I can remember. I remember taking home my first history book in elementary school and immediately beginning to read it from cover to cover. I decided to double major in history simply because it has always been my favorite subject, and although it was difficult to imagine me earning a living with that degree by itself, I enjoyed it too much not to make it a part of my educational journey. This past year, I was offered the chance to teach history for the first time (I had only ever taught English), and I jumped at it.

To say that it has been a transformative experience for me is an understatement. The cliché saying that educators learn so much more from their students and from their career than they could ever impart on others is true. One of the challenges of teaching in Bountiful, Utah (or opportunities if you look at it that way) is that I teach in an area that is far from diverse. Most of my students and I share the same ethnicity, language, religion, and culture—and because of that, our own blind spots when it comes to understanding our collective past. Alongside my students and with their help, I need to be willing to confront the parts of history that make most of us uncomfortable. In short, through my students and my content, I have been able to recognize the importance of not whitewashing history and have realized—even more so in the past few weeks—how much my own education on the subject suffered because it was masked under the illusion of being “colorless.”

I learned about the Emancipation Proclamation and the Thirteenth Amendment, but never about Juneteenth. I learned about the Civil War in all its complexities, but never from the perspective of African Americans—slave or free. I learned about the Civil Rights movement, but again, only on a surface level that was meant to make the experience relatively comfortable with my own whiteness and that of most of my classmates. While I was vaguely aware of the boils of United States history, I was never forced to confront them, lance them, and deal with the ugliness that would seep out. I wish I had been.

Luckily, in my late adolescence and young adulthood, I received a more comprehensive view of history. I was able to read about the plight of African Americans from their perspective through the likes of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. I was able to take classes dealing with history in a number of different areas and from numerous perspectives that helped me combat my ethnocentrism. I was able to talk with and befriend people of different ethnicities and vastly different world views and experiences than my own. I am grateful for that, but I still recognize I still have a lot more listening and learning to do in order to become a better ally to people of color.

If there was one specific subject in history I would consider my favorite, it would be the United States Civil War. It has fascinated me from as far back as I can remember, possibly because of how complexly human the conflict was. It pitted brother vs. brother, slave vs. master, freeman vs. oppressors. It was ripe with hypocrisy: northerners, many of whom were outspokenly racist, fought to preserve the union and abolish slavery. Southerners, some of whom were against slavery, aided its continued existence by rationalizing they were fighting for state’s rights and their southern way of life. It forced the nation to reconcile with the fact that its promise of providing justice and freedom for all had not yet been realized. It was and still is a mirror to the soul of the nation as it exposed humanity’s capacity for both great good and great evil. While not all Unionists were purely noble, they were on the side of right. While most fighting for the Confederacy were not purely evil, they were on the side of wrong.

There was a time in my youth that I might have been upset about the removal of Confederate statues and other symbols of oppression. I would have cried, like many are doing now that “these statues are part of our heritage—how dare we erase our history,” or “how can we learn from history if we try to destroy it?” However, I have come to realize something helpful and freeing while studying and teaching history: Statues do not teach history; caricatures of African Americans placed on products from maple syrup to rice do not teach history. They romanticize racism and bigoted tropes of the past that should be exorcised from society rather than immortalized. I can still teach the complexity of the Civil War, including covering important figures from the history of the Confederacy like Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis, without seeking to unduly bestow upon them heroic value that is unfit for slave holders and traitors. I can take my children to museums and Civil War battlefields where they can learn about this time period with proper context. We can watch documentaries and films—yes, even Gone with the Wind—as long we highlight historical bubbles they were produced in and the resulting biases that may be present. We can learn about our history, warts and all, without explicitly or implicitly celebrating systems of oppression.

Those of you that think that society is finding too much too be offended about—how dare you tell someone what they should and shouldn’t be offended by, especially people whose fight against injustice sadly did not end on June 19th, 1865 but is still continuing today. Those of you who would question my love for my country because I recognize its shortcomings, ask yourself this: Is it more patriotic to perpetuate your nation’s flaws either through active support of them or inactive silence on them, or is it more patriotic to want the nation that you love to reach its immense potential through the refiner’s fire that accompanies increased awareness and empathy? Perhaps because white people not only continue to ignore the plight of people of color throughout history—or even worse, unwittingly deify those who have historically made that plight more difficult—oppression did not end with the Emancipation Proclamation, the Thirteenth Amendment, the freeing of the last slaves in Texas, or the end of segregation. Like a deadly virus, racism continues to mutate and reform in different permutations, possibly because we allow it to. We cannot allow it to anymore and must rally against its current version—systemic and institutionalized racism—of which police brutality that disproportionately targets people of color is a symptom. White people can celebrate Juneteenth (and yes, it should be celebrated) by studying our history and recognizing how our privilege has allowed injustice to perpetuate. We can learn about the complex stories—like the Civil War—from different perspectives, and join the fight against immortalizing symbols that should be remembered, but not celebrated. We can choose to listen to people that are different than us and become more aware of our privilege. We can vote for leaders who will stand up against injustice and support them as they introduce legislation to do so. We can choose—right here and right now—to amplify the voices of the disenfranchised and ally ourselves with freedom. Abraham Lincoln believed, “The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew and act anew.” The Civil War afforded him the opportunity for growth and change. Juneteenth affords us the opportunity to “think anew and act anew” as we continue to “rise with the occasion."

Martin Luther King Jr. predicted, “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.” If you are one of the “bad people” clamoring against injustice, there is still time to wake and change. If you are one of the “good people” who are being silent, there is still time to wake and raise your voice in solidarity with the oppressed. If you are woke, there is still time to do more to become the ally people of color need and deserve—and above all—fight not to go back to sleep. We do not need to feel guilty from history, but we do need to learn from it. History should be one of the reasons we speak out against injustice, not an excuse that perpetuates it.

Three Truths I Hold to be Self Evident

I don’t have all the answers. I am definitely not always right. I believe that civil discourse with someone who has a different perspective than you can benefit both parties. I believe in seeking to understand rather than always trying to be understood. Empathy is important to me. With that said, there are a few things that I do not think should be up for debate that, at least according to my social media feed, seem to be:

1. Racism still exists. Some believe it is not prevalent enough in today’s society for people to be making this big of a deal about it. I have seen well-meaning people post a quote supposedly from a wizened old African American man about how racism is long gone and those who are bringing up the topic no are essentially troublemakers. I have seen friends and family I adore post a meme quoting Morgan Freeman that states that the way to end racism is to not talk about it. I could not disagree with these sentiments more. Just because in your face segregation and the earmarks of the Jim Crow era of our history aren’t as readily apparent doesn’t mean that the problem has disappeared completely. In fact, it has woven itself into our very social fabric, and because of it, is perhaps more dangerous than ever. It has been said that “the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” I would argue, “the great trick white supremacists pulled was convincing the world racism no longer existed.”

You cannot fix a problem by pretending it does not exist. As a white man who has lived in a predominantly white community his entire life, I would be putting my privilege readily on display if I claimed something did not exist simply because it did not affect me. (That statement is short sighted—the plight of African Americans has affected me, as in a perverse way, it has benefited white society for the past 400 years—which is all the more reason that it cannot be ignored any longer). We enslaved Africans and African-Americans for over two centuries. We segregated and treated African Americans as “separate but equal” for a century after that. It is naive to think we “fixed all that” and closed all those wounds in 50 years. For those wanting to learn more about this and expand their perspective on this issue, I invite you to reach out to real life People of Color (not parroting quotes or memes you find online) and talk to them about their experiences. Watch the 13th on Netflix. Read “Letters from a Birmingham Jail”, “The Autobiography of Malcolm X”, or some of the works of James Baldwin. Go to www.babynames.com and google some of the names you find there. Do something to escape the ideological echo chambers we sometimes find ourselves in when we get news from the same sources and talk to the same people about hot-button issues. Do something to learn and grow.

2. Color-blindness does not fix racism. Interconnected to the willful ignorance of pretending like racism isn’t an issue anymore is the idea of “color-blindness.” This is the lie us white folks like to tell ourselves sometimes to convince us and those in our circle that we aren’t racist. I have seen many different iterations of this pervading the internet and social media, but most share of what seems at first glance to be a benign message about how the best way to end racism is to somehow ignore color. Even if that were possible, why would we want to? Color consciousness is not racism. In fact, pretending like color doesn’t exist is, in my opinion, insidious because it allows racism to continue. In addition, it seeks to silence or erase an important part of African-American identity. One such example of this was a meme I saw that offered, “here’s how we fix the current situation: take the words ‘black’ and ‘white’ out of the statement, ‘an innocent black man was murdered by a corrupt white cop.” No, that is not how we end racism. We end racism by recognizing that people of color have their own glorious, unique identity that, sadly, often places them in the crosshairs of injustice because of their superficial appearance. We end racism by listening to people of color and letting them share their stories. We end racism by amplifying the voices of people of color—not seeking to solve this conflict for them, but rather by being their advocates so that they can work to solve the problem themselves. We end by voting people into office (Democrat or Republican) who will champion people of color and support legislation that will root out racism legally, socially, and economically. For additional perspective on this, I recommend reading this article, which as an educator, helped me open my mind to the disservice I do to my students when I ignore color: https://mobile.edweek.org/c.jsp?cid=25920011&item=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.edweek.org%2Fv1%2Fblogs%2F100%2F%3Fuuid%3D79622&fbclid=IwAR3AIcDp4y5EHMhqZVh2-gibbhasvBkYT2jv7_7tHtS_a8A-Q4lddR0HAbc

3. Black Lives Matter. This does not mean that other lives do not matter. It means that, currently, black lives are the victims of systemic racism that needs to be addressed so that they no longer have to unfairly die in larger numbers disproportionately to other races and so they no longer have to live in fear when venturing into situations that will highlight their skin color.

This doesn’t mean that police lives don’t matter. In fact, reform to limit the impact bad policing has on African Americans will help all lives—including those brave men and women serving as members of law enforcement who are conducting themselves admirably. We can debate what that reform should entail and what else needs to be done to curb systemic and institutionalized racism, but Black Lives Matter should be embraced by everyone who believes in our national creed of “liberty and justice for all.” Whether that means you embrace the call or the movement itself, we cannot continue to stand on the sidelines and watch in silence as people suffer.

While the false choice between “All Lives Matter” and “Black Lives Matter” continues to rear its disingenuous head in many places, I was disheartened to see many pseudo-racist or outright racist comments on a social media post from the Utah Jazz organization that affirmed “Black Lives Matter”. At the same time that I was prouder than ever to be a fan of that franchise, I became aware that Russell Westbrook and other people of color’s criticism of playing the Jazz may have more truth than I would previously have liked to admit.

Some disagreed with the post on religious grounds—which baffles me since, as Christians, we should take seriously our charge to “mourn with those who mourn” and “comfort those who stand in need of comfort.” While Jesus atoned and died for everyone, he was and still is concerned about “the one”, the lost sheep that is most in danger. When fundamentalist and traditionalist elements of society refused to abandon their comforts and status quo instead of heeding his charge to “love thy neighbor as thyself,” he sharply condemned and rebuked them. I cannot imagine Jesus being a silent or even passive ally of Black Lives Matter—in fact, he isn’t—he is speaking through his brothers and sisters lawfully protesting injustice right now and through his Prophet who coauthored an amazing statement on the issues facing society today with the NAACP. While I think it would be unfair for me to label myself as a member of the BLM Movement since I am not black myself, I am definitely their ally. For those of you who would like to learn more about the platform of the official Black Lives Matter movement, go here: https://blacklivesmatter.com/what-we-believe/. (I will admit, I am sure that a few of the calls to action there will make my fellow members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints uncomfortable and my conservative friends squirm—but I also think, if you read them with an open and objective mind, you will find more common ground than you might think.)

It would be extremely hypocritical of me to postulate that it is extremely important for people, even though they might not agree, to try to empathetically listen and understand if I did not afford that same opportunity to people here. I am still learning. I do not understand all of the complexity surrounding the current calls to “defund police” and am not sure whether I support those measures or not, but I do know there needs to be more transparency reform in policing so that the vast majority of heroic cops can continue to do their job well. I am still trying to wrap my head around the privilege I have as a white male and figuring out ways to still be an ally to both women and people of color, but I’ll save that for another post. I do understand, however, that there is much more that needs to be said and done to address this pivotal problem in society, and that if we are willing to have difficult conversations without resorting to entrenched defensiveness, we can take the first steps toward healing the deep-rooted racism that continues to divide us whether we are willing to admit it or not.

As previously stated, I am having a hard time understanding why these three “issues” are so controversial, so I would welcome the opportunity to engage in civil discourse with anyone who seeks an opportunity to build bridges rather than create chasms.

Comfortable with being Uncomfortable

It's okay to be uncomfortable. It's not fun. It's not something we actively seek out. But it's okay--even necessary. To bring about great change on an individual level, we have to be aware of and uncomfortable enough with our flaws to want to fix them. To bring about change on a macro level, enough people have to be aware of and uncomfortable enough with the flaws in society to want to fix them.

However, the fact remains that it is often easier to turn a blind eye to personal or public imperfection in an attempt to simply avoid feeling uncomfortable. In psychological terms, this is referred to as cognitive dissonance. We do not like feeling uncomfortable, and so when we have complex or even competing views or ideas, our we often seek out the path of least resistance and rationalize not dealing with the deeper problem.

With the current issues facing society, that means it that while most of us condemn racism and support the right to peacefully protest change, we also don't like the rioting and looting that often accompanies it. Rather than recognize the uncomfortable complexity of the issue and that many of those rioting and protesting are taking advantage of the situation for a variety of reasons, it is easier and more comfortable to simply group them all together and condemn the entire protest movement because of the actions of a few.

In addition, almost everyone universally agrees that the death of George Floyd was a senseless tragedy, but we also recognize that most police officers are heroes, not villains. Rather than recognize the uncomfortable truth that systemic and institutionalized racism have embedded themselves into our social fabric, and that one of the symptoms of this is that police brutality that unfairly targets people of color, it is more comfortable for us to condemn the movement as a whole as anti-law enforcement--when that could not be further from the truth.

Our ingrained desire not to be uncomfortable, in this instance, to say things like “I don’t see color; I’m colorblind” or “Racism may have been a huge issue in the past, but we have gotten a whole lot better.”  That is a way of sidestepping the conversation all together and not taking any accountability for change—all because we don’t want to be uncomfortable.  Some would go even so far as to say that bringing racism to light and pointing out the injustices of society is somehow unpatriotic in an attempt to make people uncomfortable for fighting against it.  I cannot think of anything more patriotic than loving your country enough to recognize that it could be better.  Would our founding father’s want us to shun movements for meaningful change because it made us uncomfortable? Were they themselves like enablers for an addict who, rather than point out their problems and help them get help, ignored them to maintain the status quo and avoid making the relationship uncomfortable? The answer is no—they were not afraid to make people feel uncomfortable about things that mattered, and they would support those doing the same now. 

I will readily admit that one of the things that makes me most uncomfortable is conflict.  While I have made significant progress in the past 13 years since I was diagnosed, I still grapple with my social anxiety daily.  One of the many difficult symptoms of this mental illness is that I sometimes go out of my way to avoid situations that will make me uncomfortable—especially situations that may lead to conflict. Even though I consider myself a feminist and an advocate for women's rights, I have rationalized not speaking up in certain situations by saying "I don't want to come off as someone who understands what women have to go through in this society or as a man trying to rescue damsels in distress," when in reality, I just didn't want to be uncomfortable.  In this instance, I have thought "I don't want to pretend to know what it is like to be an African American in this country and unintentionally silence them by using my privilege as a means of presenting myself as some sort of white savior," but really, when in reality, I just didn't want to be uncomfortable.

I am also ashamed to admit that, as an educator who sees it as one of his primary responsibilities to get his students to think more deeply about the world around them and influence it for the better, I have often avoided tough conversations with my students in an effort not to make them or myself feel uncomfortable.  Don’t get me wrong, we talk about and work through difficult subjects like sexism and racism, but I have often found myself not doing enough to push my students further on issues that make us uncomfortable.  For example, when we discussed sexual harassment and violence while reading Of Mice and Men, I would often have male students point out that sometimes girls are responsible for what happens to them if they are too flirtatious or wear revealing clothing.  This occurred during a Socratic Seminar where students are supposed to discuss while I stay out of it, and I was happy to see that many—both male and female—tackled this issue, but I also felt like I needed to do more make it clear that victim blaming or shaming is inherently wrong and immoral.  I didn’t.  I have a group of students who come in my room daily to eat lunch.  Oftentimes, I overhear them making insensitive or bigoted jokes/remarks.  More often than not, I have pretended not to hear those remarks and stayed silent so as not to disrupt our positive relationship and make things uncomfortable.  I am disgusted by myself.  I can rationalize and say, “My job is to teach students how to think and not what to think,” or that “they are just teenagers—I was ignorant at their age as well,” and while both of those things may be true, they equate to trivial excuses for staying silent on issues that matter in an attempt not to feel uncomfortable. 

I have often hypocritically told my students as we have difficult conversations not to stay silent about things that matter—that it is up to them to fix problems we are fixing in society.  I am now trying to heed my own advice.  I do not have all the answers, and I am still trying to become aware of how my privilege as a white male affects my world view, but I know that I can no longer stay silent.  We can no longer stay silent.  Even if it makes us uncomfortable. 

The Sweet Scientist

First, keep my distance.
Use arm length to my advantage.
Bob and weave until my
opponent sputters and wheezes
for air, now too tired to taunt,
a diesel engine running on fumes.

Next, wait for them to make the first

move and justify my actions with a
“didn’t start, but finished” mantra,   
then strike with the ferocity of a
151 pound muscle machine bent
on nothing less than the enemy kneeling
at my feet, acknowledging my
place at the head of this kingdom.

Make sure to connect with a
well placed left hook to the
temple and watch with
satisfaction as she falls to the
ground like a stringed puppet
being loosed from the master,
slowly sinking into a silent
shroud of unconsciousness.

Last, make some off hand
remark about her hapless appearance,

my final jab, then leave her lying
on the floor and continue
to train for a fight that I’ll
actually be compensated for.
Rinse and repeat until buried

Die one of the richest men on the

planet despised and forgotten.
“Once I’m in the Square circle,
I’m in my home,” until my
home becomes my grave. 

“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets”: My Response to Albert Carrington’s, “Dear Elder Ballard, Thanks for Further Damaging my Family”

               Have you ever read something late at night right before you douse the lights in preparation for an adventure into slumber town that caused your mind to accelerate past the point of no return?  You are getting ready for a much needed sojourn into sleep when—WHAM—you are caught off guard by a subject that demands your immediate attention.  You fight with the nagging thoughts: “Go away, it is time for bed.”  You grapple with them: “Come on brain…is what you have to say really that important?” And you negotiate with them: “Just let me sleep, and I will give you free reign of expression in the morning,” but for all your hard work, all that has passed is an hour of you staring at the ceiling naively waiting for Mr. Sandman to emerge victorious. 

               Well, that is where I find myself right now.  I am exhausted from a long day of overthinking, but in a tragically ironic turn, I cannot pass out until I express this last bit of overthinking for the day.  Here’s the headline that prompted this mania:

“Dear Elder Ballard, Thanks For Further Damaging My Family” (http://zelphontheshelf.com/dear-elder-ballard-thanks-for-further-damaging-my-family/)

Now admittedly, whenever you scroll down your Facebook news feed at bedtime you run the risk of encountering some strange things that are bound to engage your mind in the same way disgruntled millennials occupy Wall Street.  In my journey down the social media rabbit hole this evening, I saw a video of a dog using a baby as a pillow, seven tips to improve my memory, and a list of amazing foods I need to gorge on in order to live a long life.  Shockingly, I turned down clicking on each of those gems to read what I was sure would be an inflammatory post.  I was not disappointed. 

As a devout member of the LDS Church, I have noticed a rise in anti-Mormon rhetoric from past members of the church permeating my newsfeed.  I don’t know if this is a sign of a drastic rise in many members of the church having a crisis of faith, or simply an example of the vocal minority becoming increasingly adept at using a wildfire-like platform to share their views.  What I do know is that, often, these posts strike a nerve that I have had a hard time pinpointing. 

For a while, I assumed that I was naturally adverse to anything that challenged foundational beliefs that I hold to be sacred.  In reality, though, I have come to realize that my faith is not so flimsy that challenges topple it like a house of cards, and that if what I have come to believe holds any weight, it will only be strengthened through sincere inquiry and investigation of differing perspectives.  My problem with the above article is not that its author attacks points of doctrine, including that the leaders of the church are divinely inspired.  If it was, I would focus on denouncing his statement that members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles “insist that [they] have been completely, 100% without fault,” as erroneous because they, just like the church’s founder Joseph Smith, have always admitted to being flawed—as all of us are.  Instead, I hope to turn from the off tread path argumentative banter that focuses on individual beliefs—which each of us are entitled to—and rather focus on the problematic way the author expresses said beliefs. 

I would like to consider myself I fairly open-minded and empathetic person.  My field of study encourages me to look at subjects from different perspectives, and to attempt to understand where people are coming from even if I choose not to embrace their viewpoints myself.  In short, I have tried to follow the council of Atticus Finch—whom I consider one of the wisest characters in literature—who advises his children and audience that, “You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb around in his skin and walk around in it.” 

Thus, when I encounter a stance that is in direct contrast to mine, I first try to discern rather than evaluate and make judgements.  There are many points of understanding that I share with the author of this article.  I recognize how hard it must be to depart from a belief system that he adhered to during important years of identity formation, and how much courage it must take to choose not to believe what the majority of his friends and family do.  In fact, I can respect the fact that a person would question and challenge what they believe rather than accept belief second hand.  Although in my personal experience my religious convictions have grown stronger when they have been opposed, I recognize that this may not be the case for everybody, and that in some instances, it is important for a person to recalibrate their lives to a position they are comfortable with.  Those are the points I can identify with. 

However, when attempting the emotional out of body experience that is empathy, it is important to recognize points of commonality and points of departure.  Where I depart wholeheartedly in terms of comprehension when reading this article, and many others that are designed to attack people of faith, is why the attack must be made in the first place? I can absolutely understand that a person believes differently than I do, and I can even sympathize with the pain that difference of opinion can produce when those views place them in the minority.  What I can’t understand is why a person would seek to impart that pain on someone else.

What is it about the human condition that encourages us to seek retribution when abandoning a cause we had previously championed?  Do we, as individuals, think that upon experiencing a crucible we have now cornered the knowledge market and should therefore impart our newfound wisdom on others?  Do we seek a kind of emotional catharsis in seeing others follow our same path? Or are our attentions completely benign in that we hope to show our own discoveries to others in hopes that they find similar illumination?  I ask these questions because I don’t have the answer to them.  What I do know is that none of these aims will be satisfied by attempting to tear down someone else’s faith. 

If the author of this article believes that an epiphany entitles them to a lion’s share of the world’s wisdom and that it is their duty to disseminate information to prevent others from continuing down the path of religious belief, than how does that make them any less bigoted than the church they are criticizing.  Essentially he is saying, “It is not okay for you to say what you believe and share your opinions, but it is alright for me too.”  For example, Albert Carrington[1] vehemently attacks Elder Ballard’s recent statement that “When someone stops doing these simple but essential things, they cut themselves from the ‘well of living water’ and allow Satan to muddle their thinking,” but makes a similar blanket statement when stating that, “everyone else would call” the blogger’s position “following your conscience and standing up for morality.”  What makes Elder Ballard’s general statement of belief abhorrent, while the author’s stance is self-labeled as moral? 

Judging by the acrimonious tone and content of the article, I would predict that Carrington would argue that Elder Ballard’s statement is evil because it causes heightened tension between him and those who continue to hold to their religious convictions.  I find this faulty logic for two reasons.  First, is Elder Ballard’s encouragement of members of the church to stand firm and not cut themselves off from what he conceives as truth really increasing discord in his life, or are is the blogger possibly projecting his own feelings of anger and betrayal onto his peers and family members?  As someone who returned early from a mission, I am aware that there are unfair stigmas attached to people in the church—as will always be the case when it is made up of imperfect members—but I also recognize that sometimes the negative views people harbored towards me were imperfect machinations of my mind and faulty attempts at telepathy.  Could it possibly be that the antagonism the author feels Elder Ballard’s rhetoric if fueling is instead a manifestation of inner turmoil?

If the answer to that question is an honest and heartfelt no, my second qualm is how will publishing a polarizing article improve the situation any?  Rather than ask sincere questions and seek meaningful responses—or in other words, rather than employ the same empathy Zelph thinks should be offered to him—it seems that he instead decided to entrench each side further in their corners by  accusing church leadership of transferring “blame onto the members of the Church who you are refusing to teach, refusing to be transparent with, and who you are failing to nourish,” a statement that becomes hypocritical at the article’s end when he hyperbolically blames Elder Ballard for “ruining his eternal family.”  Being eager to unfairly condemn someone in the same manner you feel you have been unfairly condemned is akin to a motorist breaking the speed limit to force another vehicle off the road for running a stop sign. 

Perhaps I have gotten this all wrong and Carrington’s purpose in writing this article was to apply a healing balm to a conflicted soul.  I can understand how it could seem strengthening if others join in celebrating a new found ideology while also tearing down the previous one.  I would warn, however, that this panacea for inner turmoil is a poison, and the discord that he seeks to absolve will instead become a pandemic of disharmony.  There are many instances to point to of the corrosiveness of vengeance in history or in the realm of literature, but I will quote my favorite exploration of the pitfalls of reprisal: Alexander Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, in which the author remarks, “Moral wounds have this peculiarity - they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.”  By seeking a scorched earth and vengeful attitude towards the Church, it is my fear that the author of this article—and those similarly inclined—will continue to irritate this “fresh and open wound” until nothing remains of their soul but bitterness and hatred.  I can commend a person for establishing their own belief system, but I would caution them about spending their valuable time trying to destroy others religious’ convictions. 

Alright, I would be the first to admit I am probably full of it.  In attempting to walk in the author’s shoes, I may have unfairly attached his intentions to negative motivations.  If that is the case, I apologize.  It could very well be that he sincerely hopes to help others make important personal progress through introspection.  Even with the nobility of that goal, I wonder why it is necessary to cast any party in a negative light.  Could this not have easily been accomplished by making statements of belief and defending them without using personal attacks?  The fallaciousness in his tone is most evident to me when he questions Elder Ballard’s story of telling someone who had doubts about the church to read the Book of Mormon.  He repudiates Elder Ballard by harshly by directly addressing him and saying that if, “You [Elder Ballard] have the answers, you just don’t think it is important to share them. If you actually do have answers (and I doubt you do) and are not providing them to the people who need them most, then the eternal damnation of these formerly faithful Saints is on your hands. If you honestly had the ability to bring divine counsel and apostolic clarity to this mess and did not, you have failed in your calling and failed in saving souls you could have saved,” but rather than attempt to answer these questions, you do not ever sincerely imagine why he offered that counsel  and instead utilize antagonizing discourse.    It is possible that Elder Ballard recognized that when a person establishes their own beliefs and investigates an issue for themselves rather than have it prescribed to them, their foundation is infinitely stronger than it could have been.  In short, the author pejoratively condemns Elder Ballard as a failure without either answers or the best interest of the Saint’s at heart, and also takes issue with the apostle unfairly labeling him, but by not even attempting to understand his perspective, Carrington becomes guilty of the myopia he was eager to condemn.

While my response has questioned a specific instance of someone trying to bring down a system of worship they have already unsubscribed to, I think it is applicable across religions and ideologies.  Rather than create a productive dialogue that brings two sides closer together, we often decide to disparage an opposing viewpoint, and in so doing take on the same sanctimonious tone that we find disgusting and disgraceful in those who disagree with our side of the story.  In attempting to understand Mr. Carrington’s viewpoints in a way that refrained from personal attacks and vitriol—even if the attempt was not perfect—I have gained more compassion for him and those in a similar situation.  At the same time, my beliefs that were challenged have been strengthened by the fact that I was able to think through a different perspective and still emerge with my beliefs intact. 

Still, I feel like there is a paradigm chasm that exists between Carrington’s approach and mine because rather than call for a sincere discussion, the article instead relies repeatedly an overly dramatic denigration.  In the end, the aforementioned nerve this article struck seems to be that it undermines the seminal belief of the free-minded that two individuals be entitled to believe what they desire so far as it does not place the other person in harm.  We live in a day and age where the constitutional pillar of “religious freedom” has been turned on its head to mean that religious institutions allow those of different faiths or the secular world to believe what they want without that same privilege being afforded to them.  Channel your inner John Lennon and imagine a world where we spent more time listening and less time blaming; less time tearing down and more time building up.  Seriously.  Close your eyes and imagine it for a good minute.  What do you see?  To me it looks a lot like heaven on earth—and one that is accessible to both atheist and theist, African and Caucasian, Republican and Democrat, homosexual and heterosexual, Russian and American, Muslim and Christian, former members of the LDS church and continuing practitioners.

With that sublime image in mind, I can finally sleep in peace. 

---

[1]The author of this article uses a pseudonym that alludes to a former member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that was excommunicated for sexual misconduct.  This perhaps gives illustrates the frame of mind the author is approaching this topic from, but it interesting to note that Carrington was eventually rebaptized.    

Poetry!

Small Talk

A radiant ballerina gracefully

floats past my gaze, and I am
arrested with ice melting

thoughts.

Perhaps I mention the

whirlwind, a strong current of thoughts

flowing through my hard, sponge brain.

Like the Great Glass Elevator I may break

through that fragile mirror ceiling, but will

then travel up, across,

                                             down,

                               backwards, forwards, and

sideways, never actually moving anywhere.

Or maybe I discuss the calamity of parking,

trying to find a narrow stall

discovering fading, yellow lines

that may not count at all.

Isn’t that existing though?

we search and search

for that perfect fit

only to find we make the best

out of what we have.

Something more substantial is in order,

like a Titanic anchor forcing us to stay

And chat together.  In that case,

how bout the state of my stagnant soul,

that sorrow has pervaded me of late

because of the fact I have to say goodbye

but simply can’t.  I don’t know how.

Like fixing a typewriter

or writing in old lady cursive,

it is a lost art.  At least for me.

 

This is much too weighty,

the Titanic did sink sonorously after all.

Maybe that’s the key?

it doesn’t matter so much what I say

but how what I say sounds?

Life meanders on at a miraculous and mighty pace,

every minute is both miniscule and monumental,

and chance can take you to a tropical oasis

or frozen wasteland indiscriminantly.

Now that is just pretentious,

and this thought pause has

turned into a catacomb of

awkwardness; the deeper I go,

the more dead this all becomes.

What was supposed to be a quick,

elegant swan floating in a luxurious lake

has now turned into a gargantuan gaggle of hippopotami

trying to emerge from water without wetness,

all the while still springing more splashes

This Hippo must speak though.

I must let something escape my

mouth before she leaves.  I look

up confidently and hope to melt

in those chocolate chip eyes, but

she has escaped to the solace of

land while I meander in this

maelstrom of my mind.

Identity Crisis

The caramel sun beats down

on the decidedly dank forest floor

and a shrouding mist rises from

the ground like steam from a kettle.

Air is intoxicatingly alive;

each odor becoming a blend

of flora, condensation, and

draff, while leaves extend down

as living curtains. This is

my laboratory, and I act

as scientist and test-subject

morphing to every color

bright or dim, gaudy or plain,

citrus orange or oasis blue,

mudslide brown or tornado grey.

I may seem invincible,

invisibly impervious to danger.  But

what about the traps that move

unseen, the serpents slithering

 within inauspicious skin?

For it is the predator

who smiles slyly or slinks silently

that must be feared most in the end.

And if the predator and experimenter

are one, what then? I must lose

myself to the blend

to escape the friendly foes

and the foe like friends,

until each falling drop becomes

a reflection of oblivion,

like some forlorn apparition seeing through

itself in a mirror, completely reliant on

my surroundings as a prompt for

transformation.  I am at once

everything and nothing

dangerous and vulnerable;

protected from all

but myself.

Existing is impossible

when life is a perpetual act

of fitting in.

The Danger of Listening

It spoke to me.

Reinforcing that I

stand supreme and

can rule and abuse

with blunt instruments

or blind words in order

to make myself into

a God that stands above

but never high enough. 

Did I listen?

It spoke to her.

Affirming that she

is subservient to

something sinister

and subjugated to

the gaze of men

whose intentions

are ignoble

and whose tools are

dangerous.

Did she listen?

It spoke to us.

Declaring that sex

is a mystery, and

blind love its

Agatha Chrstie:

The man in the brown suit

 a perverted hero,

stalking its self-sabotaging

prey that remains

caught, in its own traps,

set in a world of depravity

and iceless attachment. 

Did we listen? 

A Tinder Feminist

Being “together” would mean

protection to think freely

and reason deeply;

devoid of pigeon holes

and prescribed expectations.

We would pursue each

other as a mollusk seeks

its shell, while still

existing interchangeably

as heart and shield.

Housewifery would not be

your sole realm, nor

would we divide home rule

in half based solely

on reserves of hormones.

Each calamity hurled at

us would be welcomed,

as a pebble seeks to be

smoothed by the rush

of a river’s breath. 

My gaze would not

chain you prisoner, but

would catalyze your desires

and drive you toward

dinosaur sized dreams

Indeed dear, our love

would prompt odes both

Eternal and effulgent.

But your profile pic was

 reminiscent of grimy golem,

and I swiped left. 

 Social Media Anxiety

Blazing pixels

of acceptance

seek entrance to

my frothing cauldron of a mind;

a processor guarded

by bugeyed witches,

dabblers of creation

that seek substance, but

are instead pillagers

of meaning as they

allow mix together

rat tail status updates,

moth wing profile pics,

and pig eared selfies

while preventing

confidence and solace

from gaining substance.

Does the electricity

 of life seep inside,

or am I thrall to

this stinging toil and trouble

of an artificial existence

where the vainglory of a

plodding mind is

morphed into

a tattered screen that

inhibits life giving light

from shimmering

into a sense

of belonging.     

West Bound

“My greatest pain in life is that I will never get to see myself perform,”

says the supposed “beatmaster” who wants people to agree

that his is the voice of the day, a light amidst a darkening storm,

which illuminates truths.  His obviously omnipotent decrees

on absolving societal sins—mostly which artists are sublime,

cause a chasm of hearty applause and palm in face motions

as fans laude his courage and voice, his expertise prime,

while detractors wonder why he has such strong devotion.

Do we Swiftly listen his rants, and follow his Beck and call?

The question and obsession with a self-absorbed “artist” is tragic;

in the midst of rhythmically flowing poverty and war beaten nations

we infuse his Kardashian sized ego and increase his treasure haul.

Is real benevolence trending or just a kind of phantasmal magic?

Becomes the true query as we placidly surf through gossiping stations. 

The Gettysburg Redress

The July sun hung high overhead,

rays partially blocked from reaching

forlorn men below, sitting at attention

at sycamores whose branches reached out

like fingers hoping to hold a rocky

frame upright amidst a steep expanse

that seemed to extend into eternity.

Loose rock and fallen timbers

were allies not impediments

as soldiers shrouded in navy

awaited the grey storm cloud ascending

to overtake a fish-hook line, a cataclysm

that would leave a crumbling Union

collapsed in a heap; noble bodies and

and ideas enslaved to the call of the reaper.

The defenders of this “bottomless tub”,

Maine men that marked the end of the line,

sat ammo-less like Cowboy and Indian children

and a mustached, professor Commander

astonished with an order to assemble

sewing needles atop rifles—

     “Charge!”

The soldiers descend into history,

and seven score an twelve years later,

their sacrifice is caricatured into partisan

prattle to propel careers into the future

without a sense of the past. 

Heroism buried in posturing and blocked

by politicians whose own filibuster infused

charges resonate against the battle cries

once heard atop a little, rocky hill.

On Dying Slowly

Neil says, “it’s better to burn out than it is to rust,” and the words penetrate

my mind with the force of an unharnessed racehorse galloping gallantly towards

a distant horizon that is invisible to the outside world.  But was he right?

Or is this poet prophet a false one whose pretenses mask the danger behind

partaking poison to placate pain when a gradual healing would suffice.

And yet, time may really not be the salve for all hurt, and existing within it

is remaining a willing hostage to its dastardly machinations, a Stockholm Syndrome

situation that connects captive to captor like a sticky sap from a tree encases

its unwitting victim in a callous shell that prevents it both from every truly dying

and ever really living.  Maybe our Young prophet was right after all?

Still, ticks on the clock may not be a universal solvent, but existing within its

confines remains better than a lemming-like escape.  Better to “step back

from that ledge” and fight on towards a light that may not ever arrive, but

is still worth looking for.  Hoping, even futilely, is more rewarding than eternal

sleep, in the way a child learns to crawl across hard, slick tile, not because his

mother waits open armed across the expanse, but because he glimpses the world beyond.