Tag: Politics

5Nov

Proud

I sniff around cautiously for like minds, for whiffs of celebration rather than defeat. Opening my mouth is a scary prospect after an election this tense, and Facebook statuses give a pretty good indication of most people’s places on the political spectrum. (i.e. – Maybe I should tone down the excitement around “Nicholas says ‘OBAMA IS A LIAR!!!!!!!!!’” eh?) I did not advertise who I was going to vote for, because 1) I didn’t want my suggestion to keep others from making their own decisions, and 2) I’m a chicken. However, I can say today that I’m thrilled. Waking up this morning felt like opening a history book, and I need you all to know this:

I am proud of the people who braved long lines and bad weather to vote.
I am proud that America elected an African American to lead the country.
I am proud of Barack Obama’s courage, ideals, and commitment to hope.
I am proud that John McCain graciously conceded the campaign and urged crowds of booing Republicans to work toward unity.
I am proud that George Bush passed a law giving Obama access to important documents now so he can prepare for his first term.
I am proud of my friends who disagree with Obama but have decided to respect him anyway.
I am proud of my friends who are now celebrating a heartfelt wish come true.
I am even proud of Sarah Palin for taking all the criticism against her with a sense of humor.
But most of all, I am proud today to one of the millions of Americans—Democrat, Republican, or otherwise—who want only the best for their country.

That is something to be proud of, folks.

26Oct

What the World Needs Now…

Where to begin.

I’m sure you all have seen the YouTube videos where the frizzy-haired woman in a McCain t-shirt yammers wildly about how Obama is an ARAB! And a MUSLIM! And a SOCIALIST! And BLACK! And an ANTI-AMERICAN TERRORIST! I have to turn those videos off after about five seconds or I get hives.

Well, it has recently come to my attention that some of my relatives are saying things about Obama that make terrorist rantings sound like compliments. They believe with all their hearts that Barack Obama:
          Is the potential antichrist
          Will incite “riots, terrorism, and chaos”
          Is using “forces of darkness” to become president
          Is being supported by a personal genie
          Plans to overthrow Kenya
          Is hypnotizing voters
          Wants to kill all our babies
          Is a “warlock”
          Utilizes the spirit of a python to “constrict” our finances and health
          Campaigns against McCain and Palin through “chanting, praying to the constellation, theosophy, theomancy, white magic, candle magic, water witching, tribalism, meditation, astral projection, human sacrifices, water spirits, territorial witchcraft, and radical Islamic hatred”

I feel poisoned every time I read their list—an inky black sickness that won’t rub off—and I find myself in the impossible dilemma of wanting to make a stand against hatred while realizing that willful ignorance doesn’t listen. Damn, that sounds preachy. But how do you convince someone that his or her beliefs, no matter how outrageous or unfounded, are wrong? Horribly, hurtfully wrong?

Many Christians I know have aligned themselves with the Republican party without regard to the candidates or the platforms just because Christian = Republican, duh. And they haven’t just aligned themselves; they’ve lashed themselves to the mast with a thick rope and forty-two sailor knots. They approach politics with a religious fervor that easily lends itself to hatred, and rather than look up Obama’s religious background (devoted Christian), they invent one for him (radical Islamic terrorist). They spread nasty rumors and hold prayer meetings to literally curse the Democrats. And they have the audacity to think God is cheering them on.

Last time I checked my Bible, God was love. Not hate. Numerous verses warn against slander, gossip, malice, stirring up dissension, and defaming one’s neighbor, and in his most famous sermon, Jesus told us to bless and not curse. I honestly don’t care if my relatives want to vote for McCain—they have that right, and it in no way indicates they are stupid. But I do strongly care that they not spread outlandish and blatantly un-Christian lies in the name of God about the man I voted to lead our country.

Party politics aside, hatred is never the answer. Never. And I hope that the people I know and love can find the strength of character to rise above ignorance and find the kindness this world so desperately needs.

13Oct

Thinking Without Responsibility

It’s the third full day of some eerie symptomless sickness that has left me bedridden. There’s no pain or congestion or nausea or anything out of the ordinary except for a vast hollowness where my head used to be, and even reading ten pages of a book tires me out. In between the heavy sleeping and the dizzy waking, I’ve been thinking. It’s nice to be able to think without responsibility, when no one expects you to be coherent or figure out so much as a lunch menu.

I’ve thought a lot about the upcoming elections and America’s future. I have little faith in candidates’ platforms, though I am concerned what McCain and Obama plan to do regarding our drowning economy. I find myself drawn toward the candidate exhibiting the most sincere goodwill toward people—not America’s status in the world, not its corporate wealth, not any generalized patriotic ideals—but individuals who are struggling to pay their rent. Who can’t afford health care (raise your hand, anyone?). Who don’t make enough to support their families because of corrupt corporations and an impersonal government. Who feel cheated by decisions our leadership never adequately informed us about (no names, but it rhymes with Shmiraq). Our nation needs a hefty dose of TLC.

I pretty much keep my political ideas confined to 1) my husband, who has always respected what I think, and 2) my own head, because people are pretty polarized about the presidential election and I have no immediate death wish. So no, I won’t tell you who I’m voting for… but here’s a hint: If you’re Alaskan, we may or may not agree. ::Grin::

My thoughts of late have also been occupied with family life. I am a hopeless perfectionist, and my addled brain has latched onto the following ideal of motherhood:

  • Takes the kids for daily hikes, nature walks, and/or camping trips. Teaches survival skills, knot-tying, etc.
  • Structures each day according to Somebody-or-the-Other’s accredited theory of education, packing spare knowledge into all empty spots of the day and raising bright-eyed geniuses. Creepy nighttime learning tapes optional.
  • Plays regular sports with the family. Kids get a wide enough exposure to athletics that they can make educated decisions whether they want to become MBA players or make the Olympic curling team.
  • Converts a portion of the house into a communal art studio, complete with miniature canvases, safety glass scissors, and sippy cups of gel medium.
  • Earns the nickname Mrs. Montessori for her colorful playroom always stocked with dress-up clothes, abaci, and imagination enhancement drugs.
  • Reigns over her little domestic kingdom in high heels and oven mitts, singing supercalifragilistic ditties to scare toys into place and always baking something light and fluffy. By age four, kids would know how to scrub grout and make perfect quiche.

I feel like I’m just now waking up and OMG! I have spawn! and OMG! I have no parenting archetype! It feels a lot like the flu. I’ve done a lot of problem-solving over the last 3.6 years—figuring out how much rice cereal to fix at a time, how to battle diaper rash, how to get a stubborn toddler to stay in her bed—and I’ve relied heavily on mamalove to fill in the gaps. It’s not a bad way to parent. And yet, I want incredibly special girlhoods for my daughters. I want them to remember a mother who was fully present with them, not constantly thinking about writing or worrying about the dirty house. I want us to use our imaginations together and create sparkling memories, whether we’re learning multiplication tables or simply having a ticklefest.

I haven’t done a good job getting my genetic anxiety under control, and OMG! it’s time for me to relax and enjoy life already. Especially with my little girls, who matter 1,000,000% more than anything I spend my time worrying over. So now the question: How to parent more purposefully without stressing out about all the versions of mother I am not? Because I so am not a sports person. Survival skills I have none. We have no space for dress-up clothes, and I don’t even know how to use gel medium. Something tells me that I don’t have to be perfect at everything in the world to be a great mom, but that something has a “Kick me” sign stuck to its bum, compliments of my brain. Stupid brain.

My bedridden thoughts have also drifted toward holiday gifts and Matt Damon and tarte tatin and how I really should shower once this week and I’m just going to stop there. After all, sick people aren’t responsible for hygiene any more than they are for perfect parenting or political involvement. OMG! whew.

10Apr

Poll-ar Bear Politics

I miss the following about living in the US:
Early-release movies… in English,
24-hour superstores,
Marshmallows.

I do not miss the following:
SUVs,
Southern accents,
Political commercials.

I can never stop biting my nails during election season in the States. My stomach knots up at every commercial spewing venom about opposing candidates–people, all of them, hoping to do good for our country. Four years ago, two kind men’s faces were pasted all over the media like FBI posters — “Wanted for ignorance and warmongering: George Bush.” “Wanted for spinelessness and baby killing: John Kerry.” It wouldn’t have mattered who won; the influence of each man had already been crippled by hate long before Election Day.

I grew up on the moral battlefield of Texan politics. I dutifully hated Bill Clinton, cheering when he was publicly shamed for his affair. I worked the phone tree for the local Republican headquarters and held signs for hours in the cold on voting days. (The Governor sent me a certificate of thanks for being a “Poll-ar bear.” I’ll wait while you roll your eyes.) I went to meetings where women sporting giant American flag earrings prayed, fervently, for God to strike down the heathens who were demoralizing our country. They were referring, of course, to the Democrats.

Politics came down to three issues for my social circle: abortion, homosexuality, and public education. It didn’t matter that everyone I knew home schooled their children; they were still outraged that public schools taught evolution and “forbade” prayer. It didn’t matter that none of them knew a single gay person; homosexuals deserved no rights. It didn’t matter that none of them had ever been faced with a teenage pregnancy; abortion clinics and doctors should be bombed into oblivion.

I never once heard any of the adults in my life discuss terrorism or poverty or prison reform or medical research. They did mention environmentalism, only to make fun of it; preservation of the earth was just the ploy of immoral Democrats. During “election parties,” when large groups of Christians got together to discuss the takeover of our nation and compare hernias, not a single thought was given to the disadvantaged people in our world. We were too busy hating everyone on the other political team.

I could write entire books on the purposeful ignorance I’ve seen, the arsenic-laced bullshit I’ve heard from people who profess to follow God. I’ve witnessed plenty from non-Christians as well, but the particular brand of fundamentalist warfare I grew up with makes me deeply ashamed. I think Donald Miller puts it perfectly in Searching for God Knows What:

“How did a spirituality such as Christianity, a spirituality that speaks of eternity, of a world without end, of forgiveness of sins and a mysterious union with the Godhead, come to be represented by a moralist agenda and a trickle-down economic theory? And more important, how did a man born of Eastern descent, a man who called Himself the Prince of Peace, a man whom the sacred writings describe eating with prostitutes and providing wine at weddings and healing the sick and ignoring any political plot, a man who wants us to turn the other cheek and give all our possessions if we are sued, become associated with–no, become the poster boy for–a Western moral and financial agenda communicated through the rhetoric of war and ignorant of the damage it is causing to a world living in poverty?”

This isn’t meant to bash the love-less Christians any more than it is to bash people with different sexual orientations or educational philosophies. This is simply to explain why, come November, I will be voting for the presidential candidate I think will best be able to change what truly matters–whether that person be a prehistoric gun-slinging bureaucrat, an inexperienced Muslim pretty-boy, or a fire-breathing she-devil from the bowels of feminist hell.*


*Before you send the hate mail or the flaming bags of poo, make sure you realize that last bit was a joke. If you want to blast me for the “Poll-ar bear” bit, though, I’ll totally understand.

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