Showing posts with label police. Show all posts
Showing posts with label police. Show all posts

Sunday, July 10, 2016

The Most American Week Ever

It's been a rough week for America and if you don't know why, you need to read this more than most. Or, if not this, then almost anything other than your heavily curated Facebook feed. But I'll assume that you do know why, and that you, too, are hurt and angry and disoriented by the violence and pain in our nation over the last several days...or decades...or centuries, depending on your point of view.

I'll assume that, like me, you want a better America than the one you've seen on television or out your window, or through your own experiences. I'm going to, for the sake of this one-sided discussion, begin with the assumption that you are both proud to be an American and willing to make that mean something greater than it already does. It's a decently large set of assumptions, but I think we're all up to that challenge.

I've seen and heard multiple versions of the comment, "this isn't my America" or "what is this country coming to?" --not just in reference to this last week, but also during our incredibly weird election cycle and never-ending spate of mass shootings. But I actually think this week may be the most American week we've had in a long time.

The major news stories of this week have involved police shootings of minorities, a suicidal/homicidal soldier, mental illness, death of police officers, peaceful protest, arrest of protesters, and, as is increasingly common, the proliferation of guns. If we could throw in immigration (although one of the fallen Dallas officers was, in fact, Mexican-American) and a privileged white guy getting away with campus rape we'd probably have the crux of every news story of the last year.

There is chaos and tension and blood. As disturbing as that is, it's not exactly new.  From our violent beginnings in the Revolution to the Civil War that nearly broke America's back...from the gang riots of immigrant groups in New York to the violence of Bloody Kansas...from the Civil Rights Movement to border wars no matter where our border might have been at the time.., the pain and the violence and the continually readjusting to a new normal, a new people group, and a new way of doing our lives has always been present.

It is, in fact, the most amazingly beautiful thing about the American Experiment--that we can face the inevitable clashes that come with living in close proximity to those with whom we do not feel related and find some common ground to stand on anyway.

When I taught AP World History to 10th graders, one of the tasks they needed to learn was to answer Document Based Questions. They were given a set of historic documents and expected to draw conclusions about the time and place in which the document was made. To be honest, most of them were very bad at it, especially at first. They continually wanted to use the documents (ships' logs, photographs of pottery fragments, royal decrees) as they would an encyclopedia.

They wanted to believe what they could see in front of them was absolute fact.

Over time, and with a lot of practice, they learned to always, always look at the source first. Was that ship's log made by a captain for his own use or to hand over to his investors or boss? Was that pottery used by an everyday citizen or was that something only elites had access to? Did the king have the power to enforce that royal command or was it just for show? Who, what, when, where, why, and how--those interrogatives you learned if you ever took a journalism course--became the bedrock of understanding historical events.

In order to accurately assess what happened in any given moment, students had to put themselves in someone else's shoes...to imagine their motivations and experiences...their worldview and sphere of influence..instead of looking at it solely from the students' own points of view. Although not all students became equally proficient at this task, every single kid I ever taught about sourcing a document got better at it over time. Every single one. Every single time.

I wish I could lead courses for adults to teach this skill (because it is absolutely a skill) and use current news articles as our documents. There are kind, well-meaning people who are completely clueless when it comes to thinking about life outside of themselves. And our social media obsessed society makes it so much easier to look like an insensitive moron. These social issues--race relations, policing, mental illness--they don't lend themselves to 140 characters or a snap shot.

I understand the desire to say something, anything, when there is pain...but your Insta-ready white family's pic at the beach in Seaside stating that you "stand with your African-American brothers and sisters" doesn't hit quite the right note. Find some actual humans with brown skin to stand next to when they need a friend, not when you need a "black friend."

If you commented that "perhaps some good will come from this" after the assassination of police officers, you clearly aren't related to any cops. Only victims, of any race, of any crime, of any profession, get to look for the silver lining. Bystanders should bring blankets and water and hugs and only say, "I'm sorry."

If, every time there's a mass shooting, you post that the problem isn't with guns, but crazy people with guns and we really just need to "fix" our mental health system, you just prove that you don't know anything about mental illness. I know about both guns and mental illness and only one of those things can be locked up in a safe.

If you post passive-aggressive messages about the "sanctity of the family" even if you don't ever actually say anything about gay people, your gay friends and relatives read between the lines even if you really didn't "mean it that way." Stop that.

If you post that you "support our troops" but don't bother to learn that Memorial Day and Veteran's Day are two different events (neither one of which is about active-duty soldiers), your thanks sounds kind of hollow. Same goes for complaining about your out-of-town husband on Facebook when you have a military spouse as a friend.

Social media is fun and interesting, but it is far more about blips of information than about relationships and understanding.  Your one comment about a complex issue is never all you think and feel about the topic and you know it...let's all try to imagine what it might sound or look like to the people we love who might be listening.  Save the other comments for face-to-face conversations.

If you want meaningful social media, go ahead and follow DeRay and the Dallas PD and the White House and Mitt Romney and It Gets Better and Focus on the Family. If you don't want political social media, that's cool, too. Stick to food and vacay pics and we can all keep following each other and looking at each others' kids.

But in real, actual life, this is my proposal:

Find someone you're afraid of and love on them, without ever expecting anything in return. We owe it to our children to get this right.

Go to a police station and take some food at a random time. Cops work weird hours and they're hungry.

Ask a woman in a head scarf at the gym how her holidays have been. Can you imagine the dedication to fitness it takes to work out with your head covered?

Talk to a gay coworker about their kids. Gay people have kids sometimes and they love theirs just as much as you love yours.

Learn how to both pronounce AND spell the names of your neighbors from India.  It may not sound "American", but that's o.k., you can do it.

Listen when your classmates and coworkers and friends from church with brown skin say you don't have any idea what it's like to be black in America. Because you don't. And I don't. But we can both learn a little bit more every day.

I'm going to be honest...if we do this right...if we do this well, it's gonna get real awkward. You might say something ignorant and feel dumb. You might mispronounce a holiday or misunderstand a comment. You might ramble like I do.

I'm still feeling stupid about the rant I went on about the treatment of the history of enslaved people at Mount Vernon---to African-American friends of Jay's I had never met before. (Uh, if you guys read this...sorry, y'all. My mouth works faster than my brain sometimes. Hope it wasn't weird.)

We're going to have to get over the strangeness and love each other anyway. And listen. And learn. And be generally uncomfortable. It won't kill us, but it might just save us.

I, like a lot of people who like both music with great beats and Revolutionary history (I'm assuming there's more than just me), have been singing the songs from the Broadway musical Hamilton. It's amazing and you should listen to it right after this if you haven't already. There's one song with the refrain, "when are these colonies gonna rise up?" It's about actual, violent rebellion, but the story of Hamilton is also about rising beyond the violence to get to something better. One of Lin-Manuel Miranda's lines (as Alexander Hamilton) is "for the first time I'm thinkin' past tomorrow." It's about achieving freedom and equality and hope and opportunity without burning the house to the ground in the process. It's about change for the present in hope for the future.

Conflict in America is not new. When this many different groups of people live together it will never be "over," merely always evolving. But this IS America--to rise up, rise on, rise through. To forge better and truer, stronger and braver not in spite of, but because of our differences.

So sing along everybody, "when are these colonies gonna rise UP, rise UP?" We can do it together. 

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Best Mom Tip #134: Know your weaknesses

Osama bin Laden is dead. I will pause while you dance.

**PAUSE**

Now that we have all stopped celebrating, I will admit to feeling a bit bloodthirsty since the news broke. I want pictures. I want details.

I suddenly thought that putting a head on a pike is not barbaric, but rather a good way of warning others not to mess with us. Maybe it could go on top of the Washington Monument.

Or maybe each state could get a piece of the body and decide what they want to do with it. Vermont could use theirs to grow organic syrup. Texas could deep fry theirs. The possibilities are endless.

All of my gruesome posturing is just bravado, though. I am really a wuss.
I know this because today I found a 3-4 foot snake in my garage and I freaked out. Badly.

I got home, opened the garage, and parked inside. I got out, walked around the car to get the baby out and took him inside and put him in his highchair for lunch. I walked back to the garage and there, right where I had been standing on the driver's side, was a really big snake.

I froze, yelled "Holy Shit!" (which is pretty funny because I don't think I've ever said that in my life), and tried to figure out what to do. My 2-year-old was still asleep in the car and was being held hostage by the evil snake lurking next to the car.

I managed to herd the snake out of the garage using a tree limb lopper, but it escaped under the porch.

Oddly, at this moment a police officer drove by and asked me if everything was alright. I explained that there was a snake under my porch. He gallantly got out, pulled the thing out from under the porch, chopped it to pieces, and threw the pieces in the sewer.

I think I would have gotten around to killing it eventually, but in the 10 minutes or so between my getting home and the officer's arrival I said "shit" about 10 times, my adrenaline was going crazy to the point that I was shaking, and I was only able to speak in an hysterical voice similar to Mickey Mouse on cocaine.

I am a wuss.

So whether you are the Special Forces men who killed bin Laden to make my world safer, or the guy who butchers cows so I can eat hamburgers, or the officer who destroys horrifically vicious snakes so that I can continue to enter and leave my house at will, THANK YOU.

I am really grateful that you guys kill things so that I don't have to.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Best Mom Tip #128: Watch out for blue lights

I got pulled over for speeding today. The cop, who looked a good 10 years younger than me, told me to slow it down--especially since I had a little one in the car (the other two weren't with me). I'm glad I didn't get a ticket, but I somehow feel cheated.

Teenagers ALWAYS get tickets. People with awesome cars never get off with a warning. Artists with tattoos and crazy haircuts are going to pay the fine. If the cop thinks you're young or you have money or an attitude or a superiority complex, you're going to get a ticket.

This is the second time in 6 months that I've been pulled over and let go with a warning. So I'm thinking, even the police think I am so tame as to not even warrant their attention. I mean, they have to pull me over because I'm going 15 miles above the speed limit, but really, I'm a waste of their time.

As soon as the officer walked away I teared up. Partially because I hate getting in trouble, but also because the man assessed my minivan, my modest neighborhood, and my numerous car seats and thought, "poor lady. I'll just let her go."

I KNOW he called me "lady" in his head. Stupid kid.

I cried because I'm a middle aged stay-at-home mom listening to Christian rock in her minivan (you know, because the lyrics are o.k. for the kids) on her way in the middle of a workday to buy discount kids' shoes at an outlet mall.

I am very blessed, lucky, and loved. I am also boring.