Confusion: Part One

      I remember the presidential election of 2000, when George W Bush ran against Al Gore.  And Ralph Nader.  The outcome is history.  It is a topic that I have rarely heard discussed without bitterness--even before this most recent election.  But even that controversial event didn't inspire as much protest, debate, & concern as those of November 2016.  More than anything else, however, the election of Donald Trump seems to have invoked confusion.  A lot of confusion.  Confusion should inspire curiosity, but it's much more likely to inspire anxiety, often to the point of fear.  And fear makes a dangerous motivator.

      So I'm trying to be methodical.  I'm making a list of the things that confuse me these days, & I'm making an effort to seek information.  Some questions (like WTF is up with the electoral college? and Just how easy would it be for Trump to fire nukes?) are fairly easy to answer with a little research.  Others delve deep into human nature, which has officially become more difficult to predict than the weather.  And to accomplish this, communication is necessary.
      It's also one of the most confusing things at the moment.
      Since Trump took office, I have heard a lot of people talking about how perplexed they become when trying to converse with individuals who voted for the other presidential candidate.  We want to persuade others to our way of thinking.  This goes both ways: I was bemused by this article in the Seattle Times last week outlining how local Trump supporters were confused by all the protests going on.  Being a liberal myself, I more often hear many like-minded individuals voicing confusion about friends or family members who didn't share their voting strategy.  These conversions often end with a stab at optimism: "Well, those Trump voters will realize their mistake soon enough, when nothing works out the way they want!"
      Unfortunately, I'm not so sure.  There was an excellent article in Slate magazine** that summarized the challenges when trying to communicate with "true believers."  Whatever their Cause - medical miracle, religious figurehead, new political philosophy* - when a person becomes convinced that Cause is Good, they can defend that position to a frightening degree.  As a psychotherapist I have often wished that I better understood this phenomenon.  (Minority groups have been familiar with this problem for years: just try being a person of color persuading a privileged white person that White Privilege is a thing.)  Now more than ever, I wish I had some great insight--because a lot of conversations need to happen over the next 3 years, 11 months, & some-odd days.
      If you have other experiences, resources, or ideas about constructive communication, I very much want to hear it.  I think this skill may prove the most critical resource in our joint futures.  In fact, I believe it may save lives.

*We this historically with political revolutions: think the early years of the Soviet Union, or North Korea.  If you want a better understanding, I cannot over-recommend the book "Nothing To Envy" by Barbara Demick.  It is one of the most interesting, most engrossing, & most eye-opening books I've ever read.

**Ok, if you follow only one link in this whole blog post, THIS IS THE ONE TO READ!!!

Excrement in North Carolina

      The news came in yesterday that North Carolina's state legislature voted not to repeal their law that requires transgendered individuals to use public bathrooms that correspond with their birth gender.  This, despite several long hours of deals between legislators.  Also after months of intense public protest, media scrutiny, and boycotting.
      I have to keep reminding myself that this senseless prejudice is born out of ignorance.  Gender is a critical part of personal identity.  For people who feel grounded in their gender, the idea of wanting to be otherwise can be really baffling, even terrifying.  And if they don't know anybody who is transgender their imaginations can take them to a lot of frightening places.  I understand this reaction, because I'm human: my instincts when faced with something totally outside my realm of experience is confusion and discomfort.  It has taken work to get to a place where I can catch myself*, and check and challenge my assumptions.

Humor is a great way to get people to stop and think, but sadly, there is very little that is funny about this issue.  Transgender women (women who were born as males) experience the highest rate of assault and murder.

      This piece in the news has me thinking a lot about Gender Privilege.  Of course there is the obvious discrepancy in how men and women are treated, but there's more to it than that.  When someone identifies as other than their birth gender - and that identity may not fit into a neat, binary model - sexism complicates matters even further.  Because gender is not just a biological phenomenon, it's also a social one.  A person who was born a male and transitions to female gives up a hell of a lot of privilege.  Honestly, they probably won't even receive the same privileges as a biologically-born female, unless they can pass really, really well.  It's not the physical, but the social aspects of gender that makes being a member of the trans community so dangerous.
       Recently at a training on working with transgendered youth, the presenter asked us all to imagine waking up tomorrow with our genders reversed.**  The trainer explained that those strong negative reactions are akin to what trans kids feel when they undergo puberty.  All of a sudden their body is becoming more sexualized, except that it's turning out to be something that feels foreign.  They live this feeling every day, and for many it only gets worse with time.
      The exercise was to help people understand and empathize.  In talking with my fellow trainees afterward, I was surprised by the spectrum of responses to imaging waking up with different genitals.  Some people felt shock.  Others felt curiosity.  Some said they felt revulsion, or panic.  A few people said they couldn't participate in the mental exercise, because the idea was literally inconceivable to them: they just couldn't force their imagination to go there.
      It reminded me of my college days, when I cut my hair very short (a "boy cut") and tended to wear baggy pants and flannels.  My reasons were simple: I wasn't vain, and this look was both comfortable and convenient.  But I was mistaken for a male from the back more than once.  On one memorable occasion, a well-meaning salesperson at a high-end retail establishment tried to remove me from the women's dressing room.  My reaction to this was anger.  I remember turning around in shock and gripping my chest to make a point.  She was completely mortified, apologized profusely.  Later, when I got over my anger, it made for a funny story.  But now I think back on that and wonder what precisely made me so mad.
      It's not like I didn't know that I wasn't presenting in stereotypical gender fashion.  Nor was that the first time someone had made that error when seeing me from behind.  I'd like to say that my feelings were born of a deep feminist belief that a woman isn't defined by her looks--especially not her clothing and hair.  But that's too cerebral; my reaction was reflexive.  In retrospect, I think it was because being faced with a limitation based on my perceived gender - even for a few seconds - was offensive to my feeling of identity.  And what's more, because it was someone trying to ban me from a space where  I felt instinctively that I belonged, I felt threatened.

      That was a small, small incident in my own life, but I am trying to use it to come to a better understanding of how I experience Gender Privilege.  For some people it is easier to be an ally to people with different skin, because of course we are born that way, it's nobody's choice, and therefore it's nobody's fault, so prejudice based on skin color is inherently unfair.  But being transgender seems to many to be a choice.  More than that, it seems an incomprehensible choice.  So they don't experience the same level of alliance.  We can all empathize with being treated unfairly for something that isn't our fault; it's harder to grasp making what seems to be such a radical - in some cases incomprehensible - choice.
      I think what these people are missing is understanding what kind of choice it is to become a transgendered person.  Most of us are not faced with a choice to be who we are, or not.  We were born with the privilege of having most of our life choices fall within a spectrum acceptable to our sense of self.  I am going to try harder to be aware of that privilege.  The truth is, I admire people who are true to themselves, no matter what.  I just want to develop a deeper understanding of what that means, for everyone.



*Most of the time, I'm not perfect.

**People are beginning to understand that gender is not binary, but for the purposes of this presentation it made the most sense to present the language in these terms.

White Shield

      Yesterday, Lady Justice winced under her blindfold.  A lot of people - myself definitely included - expected Officer Michael Slager to be convicted of murder.  The evidence was overwhelming, and the entire country has seen it by now: two separate videos show the White police officer chasing Walter Scott - an unarmed Black man - and shooting him in the back multiple times before deliberately planting false evidence.  Yet one of the jurors apparently "could not in good conscience" give guilty verdict, and Slager was granted a mistrial.  Walter Scott did not receive the justice he deserved.

R.I.P. Walter Scott

      I will not use this space to go into the blatant nature of this failure of the justice system.  I will only say that if we take Slager at his word that he shot Mr. Scott because he was "afraid for his life," then his level of fear was nothing short of delusional paranoia.  Anyone with that extreme disconnect from reality should be court mandated to receive intensive psychotherapy, and be prohibited from ever again owning any sort of weapon.*  Fortunately, the prosecution will likely move for a new trial, rather than letting the matter drop.  Additionally, Slager faces new federal charges within the next month or two.  This isn't over yet.
      This morning I was listening to "The Takeaway," a news analysis show on NPR.  There was a brief segment on the mistrial.  The radio host John Hockenberry, said: "When I watch that video, I feel as though my safety as a citizen is compromised by the idea that someone who one moment can say, 'I'm fearing for my life,' and the next moment is covering up evidence...."
      And it hit me: with all of these police shootings, I have been feeling anger--but never fear.
      This realization has forced me to ask myself some uncomfortable questions.  It never occurred to me that I could be the victim of police brutality.  Not once.  But why not?  In my youth, before I understood the reality of pervasive racial prejudice in law enforcement, I believed that a person had to go looking for trouble.  I was raised to believe that police went after Bad Guys, and since I wasn't breaking a law, I had nothing to fear.**
       So does that mean that I believed the Black population was more prone to crime?  I went to a progressive high school and pursued sociology and psychology from my first semester in college.  I'd heard plenty of statistics about the disproportionate drug use and arrest rate among ethnic minorities in this country.  I'd also been taught that ethnic minorities were far more likely to live in poverty, attend inadequately funded schools, and live in violent neighborhoods.  In my mind, it was these external factors that pushed people to break the law.  Of course I had heard that police targeted and even harassed Black men.  I'd heard the phrase "Driving While Black."  I remember seeing the Rodney King beatings on television.  But I didn't really believe it; I was indoctrinated with the idea that only criminals have anything to fear from police.

Police are my friends, right, McGruff?

      Experience, education, and empathy overcame that misconception.  Little by little, I began to see and comprehend the truth.  I am sure there are more depths of truth for me to experience, which is part of why I write this blog.  Today I was made newly aware of the depth of my internalized White Privilege, and it shocked me.  Even when I watched a video of a police officer chasing an unarmed man and shooting him to death, I never once experienced a moment of fear for myself. From the first, I instinctively - unconsciously - knew that I wasn't at risk.  It's not that I thought to myself, "Well, I'm not Black, therefore I don't have anything to worry about."  I didn't think at all.
      My gut knew the truth long before my brain pieced it together, with all the logic and language of social justice.
      When I contemplate the possibility of experiencing police violence myself, it's within the context of protesting.  Like the heroes at Standing Rock, I reason that if I put my body on the line - perhaps literally on the line - then I face the possibility of injury or even death.  Figuratively speaking, it becomes more probable when I paint a target on my body--whereas a person of color in the U.S. has skin interpreted as an unwanted target every single day.  Bizarrely, it means putting myself in a position to experience brutality at the hands of law enforcement is a privilege.
      On Saturday, I will be teaching a public class in the community on how and when to intervene in a hate crime.  I suspect this training will not go as many of the participants are hoping, but one thing I will be pointing out is that a White person - especially a White man - is simply less likely to be assaulted if they insert themselves between an aggressor and a victim.  That does not mean it's always the most effective thing to do.  But it is true...it is true.




*That's IF we take him at his word.  I'm pretty sure I don't.

**To be clear, I still believe the majority of police officers go into law enforcement for the best possible reasons.  I believe most are wonderful people who want to do the right thing.  I also believe that many officers are good people who are unaware of their racial prejudices--I base this on the fact many of my personal acquaintance are good people, and they are unaware of their racial prejudices, just I have been in the past.

Why "Us vs. Them?"

      I have a theory about why fantasy and science fiction are such popular genres.  I think it gives human beings a subtle sense of relief to have an obvious enemy, particularly one that is clearly different from themselves.  Faced with a slimy creature from outer-space that wants to enslave the planet, one can pull the trigger with relatively few qualms: those pesky questions about ethics, long-term consequences, and "should I have tried another tactic first?" all go out the window.  An already stressful scenario is rendered marginally less stressful but the removal of doubt.

This is not an image that evokes debate about the rights of all living creatures.

      We are not born with the values (or skills) to think before we act aggressively in our own self-interest.  Toddlers don't have ethical struggles when they shove somebody for grabbing their toy.  But of course, wise adults teach those children that such behavior is not Ok, that we need to think, and use your words.  We do this because we know that our civilization depends on, well, being civil to one another.  We have learned it is better to exercise restraint and creative problem-solving to decrease potential fallout. In the real world, decision making can be complicated and emotionally draining.  That's why some people decide not to bother with it.
      There are no filthy orcs or slimy Martians threatening us in the real world.  But some people do feel threatened by other human beings who dissimilar.  Obvious differences would be skin of a different color, dressing different, or speaking a different language--or maybe are outwardly of a different gender.  Other threatening differences could be religion or social customs.  Or even political party of choice; that's one where I've been guilty of crossing the line once or twice.

      Faced with differences that make us uncomfortable, there are three ways to react:
1) Ignore the whole thing.  Pretend we aren't actually uncomfortable.  Either stuff it, forget it, or re-frame it as being about something else that makes us upset, like bad driving or playing music too loud.  Low-key stuff that we can easily go our whole lives without thinking through.

2) Escalate the sense of difference until it becomes an Us/Them mindset.  In social justice terms, we call this "Othering."  We know who our in-group is, whether we think it through or just go with our gut, and the people who are not in that group are Others.  I believe everyone does this to some degree.  Ever glared at a driver who cut you off, and thought - even for a moment - "Well what a surprise, it's an [old lady/Asian man/Black teenager/etc]?"  That's Othering.
      When this grows to an extreme, it becomes paranoid, even hostile. "The Mexicans are coming and taking our jobs."  "The Gays are out to destroy marriage."  "The Jews are taking over the banks."  Suddenly, it becomes more comfortable to slip back into that toddler mentality of reacting without thinking.  If the threat becomes "obvious," then we can just pull that trigger and save the planet...right?
      Maybe that's why hate crimes have been escalating so much recently.

3) Learn more.  Knowledge and understanding are fatal to prejudice.  Going back to my toddler analogy, I was hanging out with a friend the other day who's delightful 2 year-old is scared of dogs.  But a nice man with a sweet little dog was willing to let her watch the puppy through the cafe window, like an animal in a zoo.  Toddler and canine leaned against the glass, getting to know one another.  Later, my friend's daughter went outside the cafe and got close to the dog, enthralled.

      This is what we want our children to do in such situations: we know that if they learn more, their anxiety will decrease.  They just have to get familiar with it.  We know this about children, yet we forget it about ourselves.  It makes us uncomfortable, so we honestly don't do it very often.
      As I continue my contemplation of White Privilege, I realized something about this phenomenon.  When a person of the majority - in my country, that would be Caucasians such as myself - decides to become more actively familiar with a minority culture this is generally viewed as "an interest," or even "an amusing hobby."  You rarely find a privileged White person being chastised for NOT checking out a minority culture.  I've gone my whole life barely dipping my toes into other cultures, and I could easily - comfortably - never do it again.
      But a person of a racial, ethnic, or cultural minority is expected to become familiar with the majority culture--more than that, they are expected to conform.  Whites want them to dress, talk, and act like us.  When they don't, we feel uncomfortable.   "If they're going to live here, they just need to adapt/learn the language/leave the old country behind."  We struggle with accepting the Other as being equal - truly, honestly, functionally equal - to ourselves.

The Reality

      I woke up this morning and really needed a cup of coffee.  I don't actually have a coffee maker right now, so I walked a block to my local cafe to order a cup to go.  When I stepped outside, the first thing I saw was a group of school kids waiting for the bus with their parents.  Most of them not White.  A few were Latino.  About a third were Middle Eastern.

      I nearly burst into tears. I wanted to run up to those parents and hug them, and tell them I was so sorry.  I wanted to let them know that I'm afraid for their kids, too.  And that means I'm going to fight for their kids.

      There's a lot about this election that makes me sad.  I had trouble sleeping last night because it also makes me frightened--genuinely scared for my safety and those who I care about.  And please don't tell me I'm over-reacting or that "things could never get that bad," because that's precisely what people said when Trump started to run for president, and you have seen the headlines, right?  But mostly what I feel is anger.  And anger can be a very, very tricky emotion.

      The fact of the matter is that nothing unites like a common enemy, and that is how Trump got himself elected.  Immigrants, Muslims, the Liberal Media--how did Cercei Lannister phrase it?  "Anyone who isn't us is an enemy."  Game of Thrones may be fiction, but don't forget the author firmly based his stories in historical events.  And history has a nasty habit of repeating itself.

      As a White woman of economic and educational privilege, I've often wondered how I would have handled other periods of history.  Would I have had the guts to be one of the Freedom Riders?  Would I have had the courage to help smuggle runaway slaves through the Underground Railroad?  If I had been German in the 1930's, would I have stood up to the Nazis, or kept my head down like so many others did?  I can't go back in history.  But anyone who thinks the present day isn't just as critical as those dark chapters of our past is blind, sir, blind.

      So how to move forward.  How to make a difference.  How to meet what has happened effectively.  How to be able to look back at this time with no regrets, with no cause to lament: "If only I had done more."

      In the interest of not making posts too long, I will dedicate my next one to ideas, strategies and resources.  If you have any to add, please comment here, and let me know.  We shall overcome.

Creating Space to Grow

      I'm not going to lie: starting this blog is making me feel more nervous than I expected.  Part of that may be because I'm not really super tech savvy, so I'm kind of waiting to do something wrong.  Part of it may be embarrassment because I always wonder at my hubris whenever I think somebody else should care about stuff I have to say.  But honestly, a big part of it is the inspiration behind this blog: to write about race, prejudice, politics, and growth.
      These are very hot topics.  The odds of me not offending somebody are pretty low (more likely I'll offend several somebodies).  I'm worried I'll get in trouble, somehow.  I'm worried I'll get major internet Trolls on my ass.  I'm worried I may lose friends, or create friction in my family.  I'm worried I'll look like a coward (I am starting off anonymously, after all--that may change, but for now I'm keeping my real name under wraps).  I'm worried this will make it harder for me to realize some of my dearest ambitions.  I'm even worried this may somehow impact my job, and my career means more to me than I can say.
      And here are the kickers: a) I don't think that this blog is going to be that big, and b) I'm White.

      Imagine if I were writing this and I wasn't White.
      That's the thought that keeps me going.  That, and something a person I respect very deeply said to me during a conversation about racism.  He said that he had given up his grand vision of what he thought he should be doing to disassemble racism, because he realized it was unlikely to happen.  Rather, he had recognized and embraced his own talents, and decided to use them as effectively as he could.  That resonated with me.  Yes, I think that if I really got off my ass and worked on it I could put together big marches through my state capitol.  But I also think that my real talent lies with words, in loquacity if not in eloquence.  I also think I have a talent for understanding people.  So here's my attempt to use my talents to make a difference.
      I did not intend to start this blog like this.  I'd actually written out a thoughtful, meaningful post to get the ball rolling.  But I plan to make myself uncomfortable in this blog, because real growth requires pushing oneself to go outside one's comfort zone.  So I'm starting off very raw, and very real.  This is me, being nervous, and feeling kind of stupid, and pushing ahead anyway.  I'll do the well-thought-out post next time.
      Hopefully you'll still be reading.