An Inaugural Pledge

For all of my life, I have paid attention to presidential inaugurations.  A minimum, I’ve found time to hear the president’s speech.  At maximum, I’ve watched every moment.   In 2008, I kept my son home from school so we could watch Barack Obama’s inauguration together.  I wanted JT to forever remember the historic moment.

But 2017 is different.  It’s not just that my candidate didn’t win the Electoral College while winning the popular vote by nearly 3 million votes.  I watched the inauguration of George W. Bush, despite the fact that he lost the popular vote to Al Gore.  Today’s inauguration of the spectacularly unqualified Donald J. Trump is  a profound disappointment for me.  In the months since Donald Trump’s November election, I’ve dreaded the moment that our nation’s collective fate is in the hands this self-absorbed megalomaniac.  I will eventually find time to read the Cheetoh Kleptocrat’s speech.  I will be glad of a peaceful transition of power.  But after that, everything about this day is filled with anxiety.  There is no cause for celebration.

And so I pledge to stand tall for equality and justice; for the liberty that we the people claim for ourselves and must always cultivate.  Our nation has endured and even flourished in the face of outside threats to our values.  The test moving forward is to endure and flourish when the threat comes from inside.  I would be lying if I claimed that I wasn’t afraid.  

On the evening of the election, as the horrible realization dawned upon us, my liberal 16 year old son developed a case of hives to go with his growing anxiety about the meaning of Trump’s victory.  Repeatedly, I reassured him that we would be fine and that the task that lay ahead would be for us to make sure to look after those who might not be fine in a Trump Administration.  And then my big strong boy, the son of two mothers who has not once experienced discrimination against his family, asked if his moms and their partners would be safe.  I reassured him that gay folks have endured much worse than Donald J. Trump and that we would be around long after he was gone.  

For me, that moment is the compass the directs me as we move forward.  I will not live in fear.    

I am strong.  I am in the majority.  I will not bend in the face of threats to values that have endured far longer than the bluster of one hateful, ignorant man.   This is our country just as much as it is Mr. Trump’s.  He is the test history has sent us.  I pledge to resist him with every fiber of my being.  I will be strong.  I will be good.  I will stand with the vulnerable.  I will speak truth the power.  Every day, for as long as it takes.

Traveller’s Lament

I have written before about my increasing horror of the simple freedoms we feel inspired to give up in the name of elusive safety.  From metal detectors in shopping malls and schools to taking our shoes off at airport security, I am annoyed at these things that we seem to assume we must do.  I do understand the importance of safety and security.  But I worry at the steady way in which we give up liberty for the promise of a safety which seems elusive and, in a society so unwilling to regulate guns, probably imaginary.

Last week, T, JT, and I set off to Kansas City from Newark airport.  We got in the security line like willing sheep, surrounded by signs reminding us to take off our shoes, remove computers from our bags, and generally do as we were told.  Or else.

When we snaked our way through the line to the security conveyor belt, an actual person instructed us to empty our pockets, put everything (including computers) in our bags, and leave our shoes on  He spoke to us in the annoyed tone of man long accustomed to dealing with stupid people, an understandable attitude but a bit rough to take at 6:15 in the morning, especially when the place was filled with contradictory instructions.

JT, now a large 16 year old who needs to shave every day, toes the line in these situations, aware that teenaged boys look threatening to the world.  Sensing that I was about to speak my mind about the conflicting TSA messages, he shot me a warning look.  I stayed silent.  But honestly, I am a woman whose daily job involves moving 130 disorganized, loud, self-immersed middle schoolers.  I know better than to post instructions and then give conflicting orders.

Post and follow one set of instructions.  Require us to empty our pockets and walk through a metal detector; scan our carry-on bags.  Do it with an air of friendly efficiency.  

But we should still know that the promise of safety in this world is a guarantee that cannot be made.  I prefer liberty  because I fear our preoccupation with order and safety offers a false promise of security that leaves democracy deeply vulnerable.  So I endure airport security with no confidence that it actually makes us safe; such safety doesn’t exist.  And is sure as hell isn’t a function of shuffling people with shoes off, belts removed, or disordered instructions about why all of this matters.

Ben Franklin On Liberty

Like everyone else I know, I have followed events in Paris since the attacks last Friday.  For me, the tragedy has been magnified by the unthinkably unkind and fearful American rhetoric about refugee immigration that has followed.  As I understand terrorism, its primary weapon is fear.  Fear is an irrational emotion, one that thrives off our feelings of uncertainty and anxiety.

The power of terrorism lies in its unpredictability and the fear generated by that uncertainty.  We don’t know when, where, or why a strike will happen.  Life always features uncertainty, of course, but acts of terror magnify that uncertainty.  We want protection.  When we have been free of terrorist acts, we can rationally admit that such perfect protection is impossible.  But a recent attack, like the one in Paris, finds us afraid and longing for safety and security.

It’s hard to remember that even in the best of all worlds,  perfect protection is impossible to secure.  When terror strikes, all bets are off.  Alas, terror thrives on the fact that rational minds are not in charge when fear has taken hold.  Demands for restrictions of Syrian refugees that have been cloaked in terms of safety are appealing because they claim a protection that we crave.

Such protection cannot be had.  It is irresponsible to claim otherwise.  Syrian refugees who wish to come to the United States are seeking liberty as generations of refugees before them have sought.  We are a nation of immigrants, one whose ability to persevere and thrive is a function of our multicultural identity.  Calls to shut the door on refugees are not just cruel, they are inconsistent with the liberty that we have claimed for ourselves since the first settlers came ashore in North America more than 400 years ago.  Governors, Congressional leaders, and presidential candidates who demand that we shut the door on those in need of refuge are ignoring the historical mission of this nation.  They are a betrayal of who we are and what we believe about ourselves and the world.  For them I recommend the wisdom of Ben Franklin, who seemed to understand the conundrum of human emotions that follow from fear for our safety.

Franklin isn't the only leader reminding us that fear is not the answer to our troubles.  There are others who urge us to stand up for what we believe.