Alt-Right adjective 1. referring to white supremacy without owning up to white supremacy in order to attract followers who previously had no idea they had no problems with white supremacy, 2. bull-shit.
Antifa noun 1. a shortened form of "antifascist," 2. when spoken by Trump, a single exclamation that needs no other explanation in order to keep right-wing voters worked up about a leftist boogeyman, 3. a confusing catch-all for leftists, communists, fascists, Nazis, Black Lives Matter, Occupy, and probably also the Clintons, used by those who spent their days in history class scratching "commie bastards" into their desks.
libtard noun 1. a last-ditch effort on the part of a right-wing troll to assert superiority by confirming main stream criticism of right wing trolls. Origins: liberal (Latin) meaning free, and retard (Latin) meaning slow, or in its modern context, a pejorative description of developmental disability.
rino noun 1. as opposed to a misspelling of the endangered rhinoceros, this is an acronym for "Republican in Name Only," Note: this term is often used without any notion of irony, as most users do not realize that they are Conservative in Name Only, Christian in Name Only, or Human in Name Only.
Showing posts with label liberal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label liberal. Show all posts
11 October 2017
18 September 2017
my 2001
Some thoughts popped into my head this past 9/11, thoughts about my own evolution as a political person. Often I describe the year 2001 as my big transformation from just a kid to a caring, voting, adult; after all, it was the year I turned 18, graduated high school and went off to college. This story has been co-opted by my biggest political opponent, my father, many a time. He prefers to think of my move to New York and graduate school as the event that turned me into a liberal.
I suppose between 2001 and 2007 he considered me conservative. Or more accurately, he had no clue.
As meaningful as it would be to become politically aware in 2001, the year the U.S. experienced the largest, most deadly attack on our own soil since Pearl Harbor, I think my age and my move to college was purely coincidental. The transformation started much further back, when I was just a kid parroting the beliefs of my elders.
What do I mean? I mean pointing to a friend's flag pin in second grade and telling her how good it was to wear it, considering we were at war with Iraq. Desert Storm was the first big conflict I remember, and it seemed so simple back then. Saddam was bad, and we were good; we had to help Kuwait.
Parroting wasn't always so benign, though. I am forever grateful to a Sunday School teacher, though I cannot remember her name, for showing me that my father's use of the term A-rab was not the most appropriate. We were discussing people of the Bible, and little me pronounced Arab in a way that is used to mock, though I thought that was how it was said. Dad said it, after all! Of course, grown-ups say a lot of things we shouldn't say.
I'm grateful for teachers who didn't chastise, but rather corrected and redirected. I don't think I was aware enough to ascribe to any political party, though I liked President Bush. He was spoken of in a positive light by the grown-ups around me. I "voted" for him in Weekly Reader, though to be fair, Mr. Dukakis' name was just strange enough to make me lean to the friendly, monosyllabic Bush.
When Clinton won in 1992, I had no feelings either way, except that our own mock election in 4th grade had the same result. How fun! So I was on Perot's campaign team, and we didn't win...oh well. All three candidates were represented by friends and classmates. There was nothing ugly, nothing negative, about that little play-election.
Looking back, I guess I didn't hear the criticism from my conservative father, or the alleged negative opinions of my mother toward Hillary. Throughout the Clinton administration, I grew up, I grew away, I grew to question. By 2001, I was primed to rebel, but I had absolutely no clue what to rebel against.
The Canadian protesters outside our tour bus in Toronto didn't clue me in. I thought, "Canadians don't like Americans?" I didn't know enough about Bosnia or our involvement in the Balkans at that moment. The whole impeachment process didn't stir anything in me, either for or against the Democrats. I just didn't like the idea of Bill being unfaithful to Hillary. Of course I was sad to hear about people killed in Oklahoma City and abroad. But where do I direct my new power of opinion?
Then the day came, when I woke up to the sound of Dad shouting "Ahab the A-rab has done it again!" The morning news was fixated on the Twin Towers, and later on the Pentagon and United 93 in Pennsylvania. I had planned to visit the high school that day, and by the time I got there, everyone was dismissed early. I shared my distaste for Dad's initial reaction, and my teacher agreed.
Later, I read about Americans targeted for being Muslim, for looking Muslim, and for sounding Muslim, and I knew that, just as the brand new "War on Terror" didn't give us a single national enemy as we had in the past, I would not direct my criticism against one person, or one party, but against ideas that did not ring true.
It would take me longer, beyond the year 2001, to voice that criticism. So I guess I didn't reveal myself as the opposition even then. Maybe that's why Dad was so surprised. Hindsight gives me some comfort, as if it proves that the adolescent angst I felt was all about learning to think for myself and realizing that people around me did not, would not, or would at least prefer I keep it to myself.
I suppose between 2001 and 2007 he considered me conservative. Or more accurately, he had no clue.
As meaningful as it would be to become politically aware in 2001, the year the U.S. experienced the largest, most deadly attack on our own soil since Pearl Harbor, I think my age and my move to college was purely coincidental. The transformation started much further back, when I was just a kid parroting the beliefs of my elders.
What do I mean? I mean pointing to a friend's flag pin in second grade and telling her how good it was to wear it, considering we were at war with Iraq. Desert Storm was the first big conflict I remember, and it seemed so simple back then. Saddam was bad, and we were good; we had to help Kuwait.
Parroting wasn't always so benign, though. I am forever grateful to a Sunday School teacher, though I cannot remember her name, for showing me that my father's use of the term A-rab was not the most appropriate. We were discussing people of the Bible, and little me pronounced Arab in a way that is used to mock, though I thought that was how it was said. Dad said it, after all! Of course, grown-ups say a lot of things we shouldn't say.
I'm grateful for teachers who didn't chastise, but rather corrected and redirected. I don't think I was aware enough to ascribe to any political party, though I liked President Bush. He was spoken of in a positive light by the grown-ups around me. I "voted" for him in Weekly Reader, though to be fair, Mr. Dukakis' name was just strange enough to make me lean to the friendly, monosyllabic Bush.
When Clinton won in 1992, I had no feelings either way, except that our own mock election in 4th grade had the same result. How fun! So I was on Perot's campaign team, and we didn't win...oh well. All three candidates were represented by friends and classmates. There was nothing ugly, nothing negative, about that little play-election.
Looking back, I guess I didn't hear the criticism from my conservative father, or the alleged negative opinions of my mother toward Hillary. Throughout the Clinton administration, I grew up, I grew away, I grew to question. By 2001, I was primed to rebel, but I had absolutely no clue what to rebel against.
The Canadian protesters outside our tour bus in Toronto didn't clue me in. I thought, "Canadians don't like Americans?" I didn't know enough about Bosnia or our involvement in the Balkans at that moment. The whole impeachment process didn't stir anything in me, either for or against the Democrats. I just didn't like the idea of Bill being unfaithful to Hillary. Of course I was sad to hear about people killed in Oklahoma City and abroad. But where do I direct my new power of opinion?
Then the day came, when I woke up to the sound of Dad shouting "Ahab the A-rab has done it again!" The morning news was fixated on the Twin Towers, and later on the Pentagon and United 93 in Pennsylvania. I had planned to visit the high school that day, and by the time I got there, everyone was dismissed early. I shared my distaste for Dad's initial reaction, and my teacher agreed.
Later, I read about Americans targeted for being Muslim, for looking Muslim, and for sounding Muslim, and I knew that, just as the brand new "War on Terror" didn't give us a single national enemy as we had in the past, I would not direct my criticism against one person, or one party, but against ideas that did not ring true.
It would take me longer, beyond the year 2001, to voice that criticism. So I guess I didn't reveal myself as the opposition even then. Maybe that's why Dad was so surprised. Hindsight gives me some comfort, as if it proves that the adolescent angst I felt was all about learning to think for myself and realizing that people around me did not, would not, or would at least prefer I keep it to myself.
08 November 2013
religion on the brain
I have a confession: I'm addicted to The Tudors, and not because it's a Showtime boink-fest. As a student of history, I love to see certain events brought to life, and I love dissecting the writers' liberties taken with historical figures even more. Aside from Henry's many wives and affairs, I think the series made manifest the Reformation and the religious struggles on both sides--Catholic and Protestant--in brilliant fashion.
Along with indulging my Tudors craving, I have also been teaching religious art in my class these past few weeks. In fact, more than one student has, privately, expressed surprise that I put images of Jesus Christ and churches and pages from the Koran up on the screen in front of them. They were surprised, not because they were offended by the images or my lectures, but because they expected others to be offended. How unusual, I thought. Then again, I've been trying to goad them all into making their first impressions known, in order to teach them how first impressions often need to be modified. Essentially, I too was betting at least someone would be offended; I played audio of someone reading from the Koran, for Pete's sake. More on that another time...
Perhaps it is wrong of me to expect some students to be ill-informed about Islam or Christianity, considering my own fear of being pegged a Christian simply because of where I grew up and the family I belong to. It's all so timely, to be teaching religious art and immersing myself in religious history when I came across the article about my high school's current troubles. Of course I immediately shared the article with a lengthy rant. It was liked by a very diverse sampling of my friends, both conservative and liberal. I take this as a sign of success, up to the point that I trust no one has made any assumptions about my religious views.
Has humanity changed much in the last five hundred years? In the last thousand? The more I read, and the more I teach it, the more I believe history is repeating itself. In the 16th century, it was reformers like Martin Luther versus the papacy. Today, it's the religious right versus...well, secular heathens like myself. That's what Bill O'Reilly would call me. I've referred to myself as agnostic in the past, never atheist (that term has a PR problem, for sure...more like getting-religious people-to-understand problem). I think I need a new label these days, so now--maybe it's the historical drama binge talking--I call myself a Humanist.
Humanists value learning above all else. Learning leads to improving oneself and one's community. The humanism of the 16th century highlights, for me, a time in history when great minds realized that learning (particularly of Classical culture once deemed too pagan), is not contrary to religious practice. It is, however, contrary to religious dogma.
I cannot let go of the issues presented in the article. I cannot, as an art historian, abide by the removal of a potentially educative image from a school. I cannot simply join the side of the ACLU, the perceived "liberal secular progressive" side. I cannot stomach the calls for prayers for JG, as if the school is battling Satan and his legions. I'm trying to present a nuanced view of a very complicated situation in my own hometown. So, I want to ask my high school: Dear JG, are you spreading dogma, or are you encouraging learning?
Insisting that New Concord is a Christian community is dogmatic. Not to mention exclusionary (and that's where you bump into the First Amendment clause). Trumpeting the commemorative nature of a religious image is a pathetic attempt to cling to that dogma while hiding from it at the same time. Berating students who have raised their concerns about the constitutionality of a religious image in a public school, telling them to "get out of my country," is just plain wrong. So within the next few weeks, I hope to do some research on the side about the many issues at play in my high school today. And I hope I clarify the points I made in my rant, making plain that I am not on Team Christianity, and not really on Team ACLU. I'm on Team Let-the students-have-a-voice.
Along with indulging my Tudors craving, I have also been teaching religious art in my class these past few weeks. In fact, more than one student has, privately, expressed surprise that I put images of Jesus Christ and churches and pages from the Koran up on the screen in front of them. They were surprised, not because they were offended by the images or my lectures, but because they expected others to be offended. How unusual, I thought. Then again, I've been trying to goad them all into making their first impressions known, in order to teach them how first impressions often need to be modified. Essentially, I too was betting at least someone would be offended; I played audio of someone reading from the Koran, for Pete's sake. More on that another time...
Perhaps it is wrong of me to expect some students to be ill-informed about Islam or Christianity, considering my own fear of being pegged a Christian simply because of where I grew up and the family I belong to. It's all so timely, to be teaching religious art and immersing myself in religious history when I came across the article about my high school's current troubles. Of course I immediately shared the article with a lengthy rant. It was liked by a very diverse sampling of my friends, both conservative and liberal. I take this as a sign of success, up to the point that I trust no one has made any assumptions about my religious views.
Has humanity changed much in the last five hundred years? In the last thousand? The more I read, and the more I teach it, the more I believe history is repeating itself. In the 16th century, it was reformers like Martin Luther versus the papacy. Today, it's the religious right versus...well, secular heathens like myself. That's what Bill O'Reilly would call me. I've referred to myself as agnostic in the past, never atheist (that term has a PR problem, for sure...more like getting-religious people-to-understand problem). I think I need a new label these days, so now--maybe it's the historical drama binge talking--I call myself a Humanist.
Humanists value learning above all else. Learning leads to improving oneself and one's community. The humanism of the 16th century highlights, for me, a time in history when great minds realized that learning (particularly of Classical culture once deemed too pagan), is not contrary to religious practice. It is, however, contrary to religious dogma.
I cannot let go of the issues presented in the article. I cannot, as an art historian, abide by the removal of a potentially educative image from a school. I cannot simply join the side of the ACLU, the perceived "liberal secular progressive" side. I cannot stomach the calls for prayers for JG, as if the school is battling Satan and his legions. I'm trying to present a nuanced view of a very complicated situation in my own hometown. So, I want to ask my high school: Dear JG, are you spreading dogma, or are you encouraging learning?
Insisting that New Concord is a Christian community is dogmatic. Not to mention exclusionary (and that's where you bump into the First Amendment clause). Trumpeting the commemorative nature of a religious image is a pathetic attempt to cling to that dogma while hiding from it at the same time. Berating students who have raised their concerns about the constitutionality of a religious image in a public school, telling them to "get out of my country," is just plain wrong. So within the next few weeks, I hope to do some research on the side about the many issues at play in my high school today. And I hope I clarify the points I made in my rant, making plain that I am not on Team Christianity, and not really on Team ACLU. I'm on Team Let-the students-have-a-voice.
25 January 2012
My Mother's Thoughts I
I found a project, as if I needed more to do during Tax Season. While sorting some of my mother's things so Dad could (eventually) repaint his bedroom, I found a bunch of old folders. The pocket kind with colorful patterns or pictures on them. One had a couple sheets of old notebook paper with my mother's unique, precise script. At the top, she had simply written "Thoughts," and proceeded to list quotes that I can only assume had inspired her. Some are familiar, like some lyrics by John Lennon, and some I had to look up. I'd like to share these thoughts one at a time.
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.
It's a quote from Khalil Gibran, a Lebanese-American poet known for The Prophet. I found several Khalil Gibran books, including that one, while sorting books and other things when I first moved back. What interests me most is the book's connection to 60s counterculture. Like The Lord of the Rings, it regained popularity decades after it was first published.
Dad describes Mom as being quite conservative when they met. But in my own conversations with her, I definitely detected a liberal streak. I believe she called me her little hippie without any derision. Now, she graduated from high school in 1968, a very tumultuous year, and despite my recommendation, she declined to watch the movie Bobbie because she lived through it. I never did figure out if she picked a side, anti-war or whatever the opposite is.
Being raised in rural Ohio does tend to give one conservative leanings. It's a sheltered childhood. But I find that my Mom and I are very alike in that we have defied that rural stereotype, thinking independently and, by virtue of what we read and what we see, often leaning the other way.
I began with this quote because I often chide myself for talking too much. Especially with coworkers, I feel like I need to zip it and fly under the radar. But I am not at peace with my thoughts...they fill my head with fears and worries about work, about coordinating tax volunteers and teaching next quarter. Like a kettle coming to boil, you've got to say something when the thoughts reach a certain temperature.
I can read it both ways. As a reason, a rationale for speaking up, and also as a symptom, as if talking is the effect of a tempestuous mind but not necessarily the release, the cure, that I sometimes hope it is.
Either way, it's a discovery of a new connection, a philosophical link to the mind of my mother.
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.
It's a quote from Khalil Gibran, a Lebanese-American poet known for The Prophet. I found several Khalil Gibran books, including that one, while sorting books and other things when I first moved back. What interests me most is the book's connection to 60s counterculture. Like The Lord of the Rings, it regained popularity decades after it was first published.
Dad describes Mom as being quite conservative when they met. But in my own conversations with her, I definitely detected a liberal streak. I believe she called me her little hippie without any derision. Now, she graduated from high school in 1968, a very tumultuous year, and despite my recommendation, she declined to watch the movie Bobbie because she lived through it. I never did figure out if she picked a side, anti-war or whatever the opposite is.
Being raised in rural Ohio does tend to give one conservative leanings. It's a sheltered childhood. But I find that my Mom and I are very alike in that we have defied that rural stereotype, thinking independently and, by virtue of what we read and what we see, often leaning the other way.
I began with this quote because I often chide myself for talking too much. Especially with coworkers, I feel like I need to zip it and fly under the radar. But I am not at peace with my thoughts...they fill my head with fears and worries about work, about coordinating tax volunteers and teaching next quarter. Like a kettle coming to boil, you've got to say something when the thoughts reach a certain temperature.
I can read it both ways. As a reason, a rationale for speaking up, and also as a symptom, as if talking is the effect of a tempestuous mind but not necessarily the release, the cure, that I sometimes hope it is.
Either way, it's a discovery of a new connection, a philosophical link to the mind of my mother.
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