I Blame Myself
The one word I use to describe my state of mind since November 8, 2016 is “humbled.” One word to describe the slap upside my head, my Come to Jesus lesson, my renewal of vows: “Listening.”
I’m listening while reading the news, watching newscasts, scrolling down through a website. I’m listening when they trigger disgust or fear inside me. I’m listening to the many political divides, educational divides, economic divides. I’m listening for the notices of hardliner cabinet appointments and Supreme Court nominees, executive orders and petitions and demonstrations and mobilizing of watchdog groups.
I did not see this coming at all, because I was a lazy citizen: I barely read the news, tuned out its screeds and selective reporting. I never paid attention to Bernie Sanders: I had campaigned for Obama in 2008, and now it was Hillary’s turn, long past. I overlooked the Clinton imperfections as no worse than any Republican’s, but I underestimated her haters left and right because I wanted a qualified woman in office.
Turns out, she was all too qualified to lead in a system voters and nonvoters hate, and still a lightning rod as a woman for Clinton haters. Too qualified because she’s mastered a system and risen to its highest ranks as Secretary of State at a time when “throw the bums out” rhetoric worked yet again. “The one party didn’t help me, so I’m switching to the other this time,” the thinking goes, and the tired two-party pendulum swings again, as it does every 2 years, 4 years, 8 years…
In the wake of this catastrophic election, I hope the two-party system gets scrapped for more clearly defined issues: the haves and have-nots, for one. The establishment and the upstarts, the indifferent and the angry, the vulnerable and privileged must all listen and watch now. This election was about class, race, and gender, with class the elephant in the room that might finally be visible now. But how do we talk about it?
I love my country’s founding values and vibrant creativity. Now I need to make real sacrifices to defend them. “With privilege comes responsibility” echoes in my mind: a phrase I first heard from my father-in-law, a gentle, thoughtful, inspiring man who also cracks great jokes. My worldview as a privileged American who never worries about whether our family earns enough to feed the kids or keep them warm, whether illness or injury will wipe us out financially, whether the family business is going to make it, insulated me from real sacrifice. I just went about my daily life, writing, raising my sons, biking to work, recreating. I talked a decent game about politics and ideas with friends and family, but mostly to roll my eyes, laugh, vaguely wonder, read more news.
That’s not enough on my part to keep alive the privileges I enjoy. Just as our president needs to work on domestic and international relationships, I need to reach out of my bubble to do the research on values I hold dear, then tell my government representatives what I think about quality public education, cost-effective and clean energy, prison and justice reform, freedom of choice and speech.
Forget party politics. I’m just a curious and involved citizen. And you are all my witnesses to my promise to do something every day to keep myself worthy of my rights and privileges. I will write or call our elected officials, letting them know I’m watching, I’m listening, and I expect them to do their jobs with integrity and honesty.
