Dear Mr. President,
I really have to admire the students in the UK demonstrating against rising University fees. I don't support acts of violence and I do hope that no one is hurt, but these youth have a right to be upset by their government's decision. While petty and spiteful individuals with experience in the American system of higher education might get some satisfaction seeing our British counterparts forced to face the unreasonable burden of educational expenses that we've been struggling with for a generation, I don't think gloating is particularly productive for either nation. The fact is that American students should have been protesting tuition hikes decades ago. The British students taking to the streets now may not get their way, but at least they won't look back and wonder why they capitulated without a fight. Here, the system has failed us, continues to fail us, but we remain largely silent.
I'm lucky, this year. I qualified for excellent financial aid- not because of a drastic change in my financial circumstances, but because I finally became old enough for the government to stop expecting my parents to support me. A system such as this-one which willfully disregards the economic realities faced by most students and their families- cannot stand for long. A society is stronger and healthier when its people are educated. I don't think that making it more difficult for many and outright impossible for some to access higher education is a socially, fiscally or morally responsible policy.
I appreciate that under your administration paying for college has gotten easier for American students, especially those from low-income backgrounds. Unfortunately, economic conditions and the poor priorities of those who write the Federal and State budgets have led to decreases in funding for public Universities across the country, forcing staff and spending cuts that decrease the value of the education provided at these institutions even as tuition steadily rises. Britain is joining the US in our struggle to balance the desire to offer the best educational institutions in the world and the inability of individuals (or, increasingly, governments) to pay for it. A British friend and I were discussing this today and he pointed out that the money raised by the increase in University fees might help British Universities hire better educators and provide more resources for those attending. Some good might possibly come of this, but it will inevitably be at the expense of the poorest students who will no longer be able to access these resources at all. In the end we both sympathized with the angry, rioting students who'd just seen their educational hopes and dreams lost to the recession.
As I glimpse the light at the end of the dark tunnel that is finals week, I have to say I'm more grateful than ever for the assistance I'm receiving this year. I know I could not be in school without it. I can't say for sure that our country will benefit in equal measure once I get my degree, but I do know that without it I would feel stuck, lost, unable to live up to my full potential.
So as I watch the news from the UK and hope against hope that students there don't end up struggling the way I did as a younger undergraduate student to pay their expenses, I can't help but wonder if those of us who aren't struggling to pay our tuition ought to be doing more to help advocate for those at home and abroad who are.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Day 322- HIV/AIDS
Hey all,
Today's letter is inspired by my friend and fellow blogger Joe, who wrote this inspiring (and upsetting) piece for The Body, a site dedicated to HIV/AIDS research, awareness and education.
Also,World AIDS Day is coming up on December 1st, so look for events in your area, or consider donating to a HIV-related cause.
Dear Mr. President,
I'd never met anyone that I knew to be HIV+ before I moved to Boise. My gender studies class required a service component, and I was assigned a volunteer project working with an HIV/AIDS awareness group to organize a World AIDS Day rally. (Specifically, we were asked to coordinate support from the local religious community, an effort that went about as well as you'd imagine in most of the ultra-conservative Idahoan churches.) My classmate and I made phone calls, gave presentations to religious groups, and, on December 1st, stood outside in a park with a local youth group, passing out candles and hot chocolate to a small crowd. We stood together, men and women, young and old, many races, gay, straight, HIV+, HIV-, Christian, Muslim, and Atheist. We listened to the stories of those who had been affected by HIV and we listened to those who confessed their shame at their own ignorance about it. We wore red ribbons. We remembered the dead. We prayed and we cried and we observed in silence.
When I moved to DC, HIV/AIDS was so prevalent and awareness campaigns so widespread that discussion caused considerably less controversy. Perhaps this was because DC is more progressive, or simply because it is more difficult to dismiss a disease as the sole property of an ostracized community when it affects your neighbors, your friends, your family and a staggering number of those you pass on the street every day. That my own life was not directly affected allowed me the luxury of forgetting that attitudes across the country are not so enlightened. That many still think of AIDS as either foreign or self-inflicted. That many still refuse to educate themselves about the stark reality. Years later, when my boyfriend's mother (herself a former nurse) warned her son away from me, claiming my tattooed skin put him at risk for AIDS, I was reminded that this lack of basic understanding was just as widespread in Seattle as it had been in Boise.
Ultimately I am lucky that I've only had one person treat me the way that people with HIV/AIDS are treated all the time. For all of my attempts to laugh off her ignorant remarks, I felt frustrated and angry that she would cite the mere risk of this disease as a reason for her son to stay away from me. But I didn't have to live with that feeling for more than a few days; I didn't have to live with that feeling while also balancing a fear for my own life and the frustration of my own failing health. I can't begin to imagine what that would feel like. Like most Americans, I don't think about it that often.
Today I was reminded by a particularly eloquent essay that many are not so lucky. Especially among GLBTQ youth and communities of color, even the search for a cure can come hand in hand with the worst racist, classist and homophobic practices of our history. HIV/AIDS awareness, education and research is important to all of us, even if its direct effect on our lives isn't obvious.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today's letter is inspired by my friend and fellow blogger Joe, who wrote this inspiring (and upsetting) piece for The Body, a site dedicated to HIV/AIDS research, awareness and education.
Also,World AIDS Day is coming up on December 1st, so look for events in your area, or consider donating to a HIV-related cause.
Dear Mr. President,
I'd never met anyone that I knew to be HIV+ before I moved to Boise. My gender studies class required a service component, and I was assigned a volunteer project working with an HIV/AIDS awareness group to organize a World AIDS Day rally. (Specifically, we were asked to coordinate support from the local religious community, an effort that went about as well as you'd imagine in most of the ultra-conservative Idahoan churches.) My classmate and I made phone calls, gave presentations to religious groups, and, on December 1st, stood outside in a park with a local youth group, passing out candles and hot chocolate to a small crowd. We stood together, men and women, young and old, many races, gay, straight, HIV+, HIV-, Christian, Muslim, and Atheist. We listened to the stories of those who had been affected by HIV and we listened to those who confessed their shame at their own ignorance about it. We wore red ribbons. We remembered the dead. We prayed and we cried and we observed in silence.
When I moved to DC, HIV/AIDS was so prevalent and awareness campaigns so widespread that discussion caused considerably less controversy. Perhaps this was because DC is more progressive, or simply because it is more difficult to dismiss a disease as the sole property of an ostracized community when it affects your neighbors, your friends, your family and a staggering number of those you pass on the street every day. That my own life was not directly affected allowed me the luxury of forgetting that attitudes across the country are not so enlightened. That many still think of AIDS as either foreign or self-inflicted. That many still refuse to educate themselves about the stark reality. Years later, when my boyfriend's mother (herself a former nurse) warned her son away from me, claiming my tattooed skin put him at risk for AIDS, I was reminded that this lack of basic understanding was just as widespread in Seattle as it had been in Boise.
Ultimately I am lucky that I've only had one person treat me the way that people with HIV/AIDS are treated all the time. For all of my attempts to laugh off her ignorant remarks, I felt frustrated and angry that she would cite the mere risk of this disease as a reason for her son to stay away from me. But I didn't have to live with that feeling for more than a few days; I didn't have to live with that feeling while also balancing a fear for my own life and the frustration of my own failing health. I can't begin to imagine what that would feel like. Like most Americans, I don't think about it that often.
Today I was reminded by a particularly eloquent essay that many are not so lucky. Especially among GLBTQ youth and communities of color, even the search for a cure can come hand in hand with the worst racist, classist and homophobic practices of our history. HIV/AIDS awareness, education and research is important to all of us, even if its direct effect on our lives isn't obvious.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Day 315-Veteran's Day
Dear Mr. President,
Today we honor those who have fought and died for our country. I'm grateful for more than just the excuse to sleep in and miss class. I'm grateful for those who served in the armed forces, for the sacrifices they have made and the service they have done our country. I say all of this as an unapologetic critic of the wars we currently wage, the conduct of some of our troops therein, and of the military's anti-gay policies. I do not believe that my gratitude and my criticism are mutually exclusive.
On the contrary, I believe that the best way to support our troops is to never ask that they put themselves in harms way unless it is absolutely necessary. Unless our survival or our very humanity compels it. That we never put them at risk of torture by torturing our own enemy prisoners. That we never order them to kill in the name of an unjust war. I believe that we support our troops when we insist on allowing openly gay soldiers to serve. When we fully fund rehabilitation programs, health and especially mental health programs, education and employment opportunities for veterans. This is how we walk the walk of those yellow ribbons we wear.
I hope that today you reflect on the wars you inherited and the way they have been waged. On the kill lists, the interrogation methods, the civilian deaths that put our own troops at risk and destroy so many lives (and so many minds) on both sides. On the mistakes made, the mistakes perpetuated and the lies told to cover them up. I hope that you reflect on these things and conclude, as so many of us have, that our troops deserve better.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today we honor those who have fought and died for our country. I'm grateful for more than just the excuse to sleep in and miss class. I'm grateful for those who served in the armed forces, for the sacrifices they have made and the service they have done our country. I say all of this as an unapologetic critic of the wars we currently wage, the conduct of some of our troops therein, and of the military's anti-gay policies. I do not believe that my gratitude and my criticism are mutually exclusive.
On the contrary, I believe that the best way to support our troops is to never ask that they put themselves in harms way unless it is absolutely necessary. Unless our survival or our very humanity compels it. That we never put them at risk of torture by torturing our own enemy prisoners. That we never order them to kill in the name of an unjust war. I believe that we support our troops when we insist on allowing openly gay soldiers to serve. When we fully fund rehabilitation programs, health and especially mental health programs, education and employment opportunities for veterans. This is how we walk the walk of those yellow ribbons we wear.
I hope that today you reflect on the wars you inherited and the way they have been waged. On the kill lists, the interrogation methods, the civilian deaths that put our own troops at risk and destroy so many lives (and so many minds) on both sides. On the mistakes made, the mistakes perpetuated and the lies told to cover them up. I hope that you reflect on these things and conclude, as so many of us have, that our troops deserve better.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, October 29, 2010
Day 302- Emotional and academic
Dear Mr. President,
A few days ago my class was visited by an Israeli guest lecturer. I tried to go in with an open mind, especially because I knew the professor places a huge importance on human rights and is sympathetic to the Palestinian struggle for self-determination. Throughout the lecture, I found myself getting angrier and angrier. His attempts at objectivity were so obviously colored with the comfortable, academic detachment that I find so frustrating. Reducing events and issues that represent tangible suffering, blood, death and disenfranchisement to abstractions might lead to calmer discourse, but it doesn't do justice to the people not lucky enough to pretend it's all just an academic exercise. At the end of the lecture, he opened it up for questions and was gracious, if a bit dismissive, about my views on the unsettling rise of the radical Israeli right wing.
I fully admit that, for all of my academic energies devoted to Palestinian issues, I have a much deeper and much more immediate emotional reaction. I don't apologize for or regret this; witnessing injustice against real people is an emotional and not an academic experience. But I also recognize that my emotional reactions may not be as useful to those who are struggling with that injustice as some one else's more detached and rational response. It makes it difficult for me to listen to people like this professor make statements about his optimism for the peace process, so long as people let go of the "irrational" idea of a right of return. I've been to Dheisheh refugee camp and seen the way that refugee status still affects the day to day lives of my friends who grew up there. The idea that they have no claim to the homes their ancestors were forced out of, that their future aspirations can be swept aside and dismissed as irrational gives me a visceral reaction to the callousness of this detachment.
I also have to constantly question my role in all of this. Can I help, at all? I have to question how much of my desire to work in Palestine is fulfilling a selfish need to belong and feel useful, and how much is actually a desire to be part of the solution, an honest desire to fight injustice. Do I have the skills necessary? Is it enough just to bear witness, or do I have a responsibility to do more? I ask myself these things every day, as I discuss, explain, argue or learn more. And I don't have any answers; continuing the peace talks without a settlement freeze seems like political suicide for Abbas. A unilateral bid for recognition from the UN seems like it would lead to war. Discussing a one-state solution is tantamount to anti-semitism in modern American discourse, and even mentioning the role that Hamas might play in the peace process is enough to undermine one's credibility with so-called moderates from Israel and America.
I can't discuss these options without thinking about the tangible, personal way they will affect Palestinian people. Maybe that makes me a poor academic. I think that losing sight of the human cost of political decisions costs us our humanity, and I would rather keep mine than perfect a more dispassionate debate style. I think that the academic and political spheres need more compassion and more empathy, not less. Even if it makes certain lectures more difficult to sit through, and certain articles more difficult to read. That difficulty is nothing compared to the struggle of actually living with the bleak reality of the facts on the ground. You're well-known for your calm, cool approach to heated situations. I appreciate this about you, even if it at times frustrates me. I'm certain that, no matter how cool your exterior reactions may seem, these issues must affect you on an emotional level as well. Do you feel like the sheer number of problems around the world, the overwhelming amount of suffering causes you to become desensitized to it all? Or do you keep your emotions in check in order to keep every one else calmer?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
A few days ago my class was visited by an Israeli guest lecturer. I tried to go in with an open mind, especially because I knew the professor places a huge importance on human rights and is sympathetic to the Palestinian struggle for self-determination. Throughout the lecture, I found myself getting angrier and angrier. His attempts at objectivity were so obviously colored with the comfortable, academic detachment that I find so frustrating. Reducing events and issues that represent tangible suffering, blood, death and disenfranchisement to abstractions might lead to calmer discourse, but it doesn't do justice to the people not lucky enough to pretend it's all just an academic exercise. At the end of the lecture, he opened it up for questions and was gracious, if a bit dismissive, about my views on the unsettling rise of the radical Israeli right wing.
I fully admit that, for all of my academic energies devoted to Palestinian issues, I have a much deeper and much more immediate emotional reaction. I don't apologize for or regret this; witnessing injustice against real people is an emotional and not an academic experience. But I also recognize that my emotional reactions may not be as useful to those who are struggling with that injustice as some one else's more detached and rational response. It makes it difficult for me to listen to people like this professor make statements about his optimism for the peace process, so long as people let go of the "irrational" idea of a right of return. I've been to Dheisheh refugee camp and seen the way that refugee status still affects the day to day lives of my friends who grew up there. The idea that they have no claim to the homes their ancestors were forced out of, that their future aspirations can be swept aside and dismissed as irrational gives me a visceral reaction to the callousness of this detachment.
I also have to constantly question my role in all of this. Can I help, at all? I have to question how much of my desire to work in Palestine is fulfilling a selfish need to belong and feel useful, and how much is actually a desire to be part of the solution, an honest desire to fight injustice. Do I have the skills necessary? Is it enough just to bear witness, or do I have a responsibility to do more? I ask myself these things every day, as I discuss, explain, argue or learn more. And I don't have any answers; continuing the peace talks without a settlement freeze seems like political suicide for Abbas. A unilateral bid for recognition from the UN seems like it would lead to war. Discussing a one-state solution is tantamount to anti-semitism in modern American discourse, and even mentioning the role that Hamas might play in the peace process is enough to undermine one's credibility with so-called moderates from Israel and America.
I can't discuss these options without thinking about the tangible, personal way they will affect Palestinian people. Maybe that makes me a poor academic. I think that losing sight of the human cost of political decisions costs us our humanity, and I would rather keep mine than perfect a more dispassionate debate style. I think that the academic and political spheres need more compassion and more empathy, not less. Even if it makes certain lectures more difficult to sit through, and certain articles more difficult to read. That difficulty is nothing compared to the struggle of actually living with the bleak reality of the facts on the ground. You're well-known for your calm, cool approach to heated situations. I appreciate this about you, even if it at times frustrates me. I'm certain that, no matter how cool your exterior reactions may seem, these issues must affect you on an emotional level as well. Do you feel like the sheer number of problems around the world, the overwhelming amount of suffering causes you to become desensitized to it all? Or do you keep your emotions in check in order to keep every one else calmer?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Day 266- 100 days
Update: It turns out due to an error earlier in the year this should actually be called "99 days" oh well. Live and learn, eh?
Dear Mr. President,
The measure of a presidency is often taken by the accomplishments of the first 100 days. I think this is silly. You've got to allow at least a few days to find all the light switches and figure out how to navigate the west wing, right? Not to mention all the the thanking people for their help getting you elected, the waiting for congress to remember that no one in the country knows who they are after election season ends, and, of course, the post-victory poll numbers can't be taken that seriously. But I have 100 days left to write to you this year, and I want to make my last 100 letters count. In 100 days, I want to think that my country will be different. I want to think it will be stronger, economically, and that the Bush-era tax cus will be allowed to expire. I want to think that it will be a freer, and more fair country, where gay and lesbian Americans will be allowed to openly serve in our military and marry whomever they please. I want to think that our image abroad will be improved by the closure of Guantanamo bay, the end of combat in Afghanistan, and that truly fair-minded American leadership in the Palestinian/Israeli peace talks will help create a stable, free and secure Palestinian state. We might also be a greener nation, with an end to harmful agricultural subsidies, a robust new energy policy and heavier federal investment in making our national infrastructure more environmentally friendly. Every single one of these things is possible in 100 days. (I may also wish for socialized health care and higher education, but I recognize those things can't happen in 100 days.) All of this can happen. And while my cynical, realistic side believes that none of these things will be accomplished in so little time, the part of me that still hopes for a better future believes that your next 100 days can be just as important and productive as your first 100 days, or the 100 days that will come after December 31st. And, while I have 100 letters left to write, you can bet that I'm going to bug your more than ever about every single one of these goals.
2010 has been kind of a rough year for you and your presidency. But it's got 100 days left, and that's plenty of time to turn things around and change the way this year and your administration is remembered by history. I hope you make them count.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
The measure of a presidency is often taken by the accomplishments of the first 100 days. I think this is silly. You've got to allow at least a few days to find all the light switches and figure out how to navigate the west wing, right? Not to mention all the the thanking people for their help getting you elected, the waiting for congress to remember that no one in the country knows who they are after election season ends, and, of course, the post-victory poll numbers can't be taken that seriously. But I have 100 days left to write to you this year, and I want to make my last 100 letters count. In 100 days, I want to think that my country will be different. I want to think it will be stronger, economically, and that the Bush-era tax cus will be allowed to expire. I want to think that it will be a freer, and more fair country, where gay and lesbian Americans will be allowed to openly serve in our military and marry whomever they please. I want to think that our image abroad will be improved by the closure of Guantanamo bay, the end of combat in Afghanistan, and that truly fair-minded American leadership in the Palestinian/Israeli peace talks will help create a stable, free and secure Palestinian state. We might also be a greener nation, with an end to harmful agricultural subsidies, a robust new energy policy and heavier federal investment in making our national infrastructure more environmentally friendly. Every single one of these things is possible in 100 days. (I may also wish for socialized health care and higher education, but I recognize those things can't happen in 100 days.) All of this can happen. And while my cynical, realistic side believes that none of these things will be accomplished in so little time, the part of me that still hopes for a better future believes that your next 100 days can be just as important and productive as your first 100 days, or the 100 days that will come after December 31st. And, while I have 100 letters left to write, you can bet that I'm going to bug your more than ever about every single one of these goals.
2010 has been kind of a rough year for you and your presidency. But it's got 100 days left, and that's plenty of time to turn things around and change the way this year and your administration is remembered by history. I hope you make them count.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Day 265- Mere Charity
So let’s put to rest the old myth that development is mere charity that does not serve our interests. And let’s reject the cynicism that says certain countries are condemned to perpetual poverty, for the past half century has witnessed more gains in human development than at any time in history. A disease that had ravaged the generations, smallpox, was eradicated. Health care has reached the far corners of the world, saving the lives of millions. From Latin America to Africa to Asia, developing nations have transformed into leaders in the global economy.
-President Barack Obama, 9/22/2010
Dear Mr. President,
In your remarks at the UN today, you made several points about the way that progress toward a stable and more just world for all is prudent for the national security interests of America and wealthy nations everywhere. I think you're right about this. Achieving the Millenium Development Goals is more than a moral obligation- it's in the our own interest. Which is why it is so disappointing to hear words like this in direct contrast with the way we appropriate funds to support these goals. Spending as much as we do each year on wars against two countries that have little to no basic social services, education or infrastructure seems like maybe we've lost sight of the whole idea behind the MDGs. If you really believe that our national interests are served by fighting poverty, suffering and disillusionment, why do you keep spending so much of our national budget on the tools of war?
You're right about the way this discussion needs to be framed- no act of charity is performed without self-interest. Having a frank conversation with the American people about our interests and the best way to serve them is long overdue. Waging wars might make us feel better, it might create the illusion of progress in a society demanding instant gratification, but I think you know it doesn't server our long-term interests. And while you may safely express this sentiment in remarks to the UN, you have little hope of being heard over the din off a Tea Party rally or town hall full of the angry and the afraid. People may not want to be told that they're wrong, that they have to wait to see the results of our current policies, that they have to work and help and change themselves if our country is going to remain in our position of global leadership over the next few generations. But I think people will always respond better to being told the truth, to be spoken to like adults, than coddled and told only what pleases them. Saying to the American people that economic development, increasing access to education and improving the rights and freedoms of people around the world is the best way to fight terrorism requires more than just words; the way we spend our money also has to change if the MDGs are ever going to be achieved or if the world is ever going to believe that America is serious about our commitments to justice, equality and opportunity for those without it.
This logic should also be applied domestically. Welfare, unemployment benefits, health care- none of it is "mere charity". These social services that protect Americans when they are the most vulnerable help keep our economy and our society more stable. This basic principle- that doing right by the least among us makes all of us stronger- is also not something Americans always want to hear. But I don't think you ran for President to lie to us, and I don't think you ran because it sounded like a fun gig. Americans have to learn to wait, to invest in our long-term interests and stop looking for the quick-fix that only makes us feel better. Until we have a leader willing to tell us that we're never going to make the changes necessary to make the goals for 2015 anything more than optimistic fantasy.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
-President Barack Obama, 9/22/2010
Dear Mr. President,
In your remarks at the UN today, you made several points about the way that progress toward a stable and more just world for all is prudent for the national security interests of America and wealthy nations everywhere. I think you're right about this. Achieving the Millenium Development Goals is more than a moral obligation- it's in the our own interest. Which is why it is so disappointing to hear words like this in direct contrast with the way we appropriate funds to support these goals. Spending as much as we do each year on wars against two countries that have little to no basic social services, education or infrastructure seems like maybe we've lost sight of the whole idea behind the MDGs. If you really believe that our national interests are served by fighting poverty, suffering and disillusionment, why do you keep spending so much of our national budget on the tools of war?
You're right about the way this discussion needs to be framed- no act of charity is performed without self-interest. Having a frank conversation with the American people about our interests and the best way to serve them is long overdue. Waging wars might make us feel better, it might create the illusion of progress in a society demanding instant gratification, but I think you know it doesn't server our long-term interests. And while you may safely express this sentiment in remarks to the UN, you have little hope of being heard over the din off a Tea Party rally or town hall full of the angry and the afraid. People may not want to be told that they're wrong, that they have to wait to see the results of our current policies, that they have to work and help and change themselves if our country is going to remain in our position of global leadership over the next few generations. But I think people will always respond better to being told the truth, to be spoken to like adults, than coddled and told only what pleases them. Saying to the American people that economic development, increasing access to education and improving the rights and freedoms of people around the world is the best way to fight terrorism requires more than just words; the way we spend our money also has to change if the MDGs are ever going to be achieved or if the world is ever going to believe that America is serious about our commitments to justice, equality and opportunity for those without it.
This logic should also be applied domestically. Welfare, unemployment benefits, health care- none of it is "mere charity". These social services that protect Americans when they are the most vulnerable help keep our economy and our society more stable. This basic principle- that doing right by the least among us makes all of us stronger- is also not something Americans always want to hear. But I don't think you ran for President to lie to us, and I don't think you ran because it sounded like a fun gig. Americans have to learn to wait, to invest in our long-term interests and stop looking for the quick-fix that only makes us feel better. Until we have a leader willing to tell us that we're never going to make the changes necessary to make the goals for 2015 anything more than optimistic fantasy.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Day 259-Good and Evil
Dear Mr. President,
I have a constant struggle between the parts of me that believe people are basically good and the part that believes people are selfish and amoral. I want the believe the best of people, in general. But my parents were cops, and the people they dealt with daily were murders, rapists and child molesters. People who are difficult, if not impossible, to forgive or to find redemptive goodness in. At work it is my job to catch shoplifters. This is a much smaller scale of badness than what my parents dealt with, but I often encounter individuals who challenge my belief in man's fundamental goodness. Today was one of those days. While it was ultimately a positive outcome, the incident has definitely made me reflect on what I believe.
The process of enforcing the law, on whatever scale it has to be done, requires a sort of reactionary mentality that isn't generally how I see myself. When I'm catching a criminal, I don't have time to think about the circumstances in a person's life that led to their crime. I don't have time to consider the societal problems that have forced them into the situation, or a long-term strategy for their rehabilitation. I have to react to what they do a the time they do it in whatever way I can best minimize the damage. I try to be respectful and always consider the humanity of the people I deal with. A person's humanity does not, of course, exempt them from mankind's more instinctive and animal-like impulses- fight or flight- and anticipating this while respecting the individual's humanity is one of the more challenging aspects of my job. I consider a number of circumstantial factors that combine to make a person desperate, and I don't think I have encountered any one I would actually call evil. Even when choosing fight over flight, I don't believe that a person can be judged by their worst and most desperate behavior. But this does not exempt them from responsibility for their choices, and that is why I have to react to the situation and not to the big picture.
You don't have that luxury, unfortunately. You were, after all, the one who ran for President. You knew what you were getting into when you applied for the job. So while I do the best I can to deal with the situation at hand, to stop criminals without losing my compassion for them, you've got to think about the greater problem. I deal with crimes. You worry about Crime, an abstract, complex concept that affects and is affected by everything from economics to education to social values. I'd be incredibly happy to be put out of a job, to have all crime stopped by some massive national policy that magically makes us a peaceful, crime-free society. Living, as I unfortunately must, in the real world, I'm not too worried about my job security. That being said, budget shortfalls in my state are leading to fewer police officers and certainly also to an increase in crime rates. Today I chased down a shoplifter and was assaulted in the process. That's part of my job. Today the federal government spent more than $410 million on our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. In the year 2011, Seattle taxpayers alone will contribute $36.9 million to these two wars- enough to pay for more than 4,000 police officers, or 48,000 university scholarships. These wars were started- and continue to be waged- under the pretext of fighting "evil". I may not believe in evil the same way that many people seem to, but I think much more good might be done with that money, in my city, in Iraq or in Afghanistan. Making the tough decisions about how this money is spent is your job, Mr. President, and I think it is one area with plenty of room for improvement. You can't make people good, or even ensure that they always make good choices. Mistakes and bad judgement and selfishness are unfortunate realities that no government can solve. However, there is a lot more we could do to make our society healthier and safer, and these wars don't seem to be doing much of either.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I have a constant struggle between the parts of me that believe people are basically good and the part that believes people are selfish and amoral. I want the believe the best of people, in general. But my parents were cops, and the people they dealt with daily were murders, rapists and child molesters. People who are difficult, if not impossible, to forgive or to find redemptive goodness in. At work it is my job to catch shoplifters. This is a much smaller scale of badness than what my parents dealt with, but I often encounter individuals who challenge my belief in man's fundamental goodness. Today was one of those days. While it was ultimately a positive outcome, the incident has definitely made me reflect on what I believe.
The process of enforcing the law, on whatever scale it has to be done, requires a sort of reactionary mentality that isn't generally how I see myself. When I'm catching a criminal, I don't have time to think about the circumstances in a person's life that led to their crime. I don't have time to consider the societal problems that have forced them into the situation, or a long-term strategy for their rehabilitation. I have to react to what they do a the time they do it in whatever way I can best minimize the damage. I try to be respectful and always consider the humanity of the people I deal with. A person's humanity does not, of course, exempt them from mankind's more instinctive and animal-like impulses- fight or flight- and anticipating this while respecting the individual's humanity is one of the more challenging aspects of my job. I consider a number of circumstantial factors that combine to make a person desperate, and I don't think I have encountered any one I would actually call evil. Even when choosing fight over flight, I don't believe that a person can be judged by their worst and most desperate behavior. But this does not exempt them from responsibility for their choices, and that is why I have to react to the situation and not to the big picture.
You don't have that luxury, unfortunately. You were, after all, the one who ran for President. You knew what you were getting into when you applied for the job. So while I do the best I can to deal with the situation at hand, to stop criminals without losing my compassion for them, you've got to think about the greater problem. I deal with crimes. You worry about Crime, an abstract, complex concept that affects and is affected by everything from economics to education to social values. I'd be incredibly happy to be put out of a job, to have all crime stopped by some massive national policy that magically makes us a peaceful, crime-free society. Living, as I unfortunately must, in the real world, I'm not too worried about my job security. That being said, budget shortfalls in my state are leading to fewer police officers and certainly also to an increase in crime rates. Today I chased down a shoplifter and was assaulted in the process. That's part of my job. Today the federal government spent more than $410 million on our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. In the year 2011, Seattle taxpayers alone will contribute $36.9 million to these two wars- enough to pay for more than 4,000 police officers, or 48,000 university scholarships. These wars were started- and continue to be waged- under the pretext of fighting "evil". I may not believe in evil the same way that many people seem to, but I think much more good might be done with that money, in my city, in Iraq or in Afghanistan. Making the tough decisions about how this money is spent is your job, Mr. President, and I think it is one area with plenty of room for improvement. You can't make people good, or even ensure that they always make good choices. Mistakes and bad judgement and selfishness are unfortunate realities that no government can solve. However, there is a lot more we could do to make our society healthier and safer, and these wars don't seem to be doing much of either.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, September 13, 2010
Day 256- Back to school
Dear Mr. President,
In just over eight hours I'll be taking the most important test of my undergraduate life. I've spent the day in various cafes, a library and 4 different city buses trying to cram 15 chapters of the Arabic language back into the easily accessible parts of my brain. I tried to relax a bit by listening to my ipod while walking home, and found myself trying to translate "dirt off your shoulder" into Arabic. I'm starting to think about Maha and Khalid like they're my real cousins. My fear of the lowercase letter e is becoming concerning. I have consumed a truly unhealthy amount of caffeine.
For these reasons, I thought it advisable to keep my letter to you quite short. I noticed you gave a back to school speech in Pennsylvania today (proving, once more, that it never stops paying to be a swing state) and I thought I'd channel my test anxiety into a relevant comment on education. Foreign languages should be taught in primary education. You've already said this, and been criticized for it (naturally,) even expressing your own embarrassment at being monolingual. While it may be an unfair stereotype to suggest that Americans can't speak multiple languages, I think the mere fact that some people find it outrageous that you would suggest we ought to learn a second language as children demonstrates it certainly isn't a cultural value in America they way it is in many other parts of the world. This is more difficult to change, of course, but I think that Americans in general do want to see their children grow to be successful and well-educated, and multilingual graduates will likely also be more employable, should there ever again be jobs available.
Maybe I'm just saying this since I'm scared out of my mind that my whole life will be over if I don't pas my placement test tomorrow, but I feel like the ability to communicate with non-English speakers would go a long way toward easing the hostility that some Americans feel about foreigners. And we could certainly do with less xenophobia in our foreign relations and immigration policies. Even if I pass this test tomorrow and spend another year devoted to learning Arabic, my best hope is to graduate with the vocabulary of an overly formal third grader. Had I spent elementary school studying Arabic, or really any language, this might not be such a Hurculean task. At this point, having 100% of high school graduates fluent in English might still seem daunting, but I think an earlier and more consistent emphasis on a second language might help in that area, as well. At least more High school graduates would, in theory, know what a verb is.
While I was searching the internet to find out if you spoke a foreign language, I found the headline "Does Obama speak Arabic?" I was really hopeful that the answer would be yes, so that maybe I could write you a letter in Arabic at some point, but then I saw that the article was from The Weekly Standard. Our media does this country so proud. Anyway, I'm going to continue studying. It's too late for me, by the time you read this letter the die will be cast, my fate will be decided and my hopes of attaining a third-grade vocabulary in Arabic secured or dashed forever. But there are a whole generation of American children starting school this week who might still hope to graduate with the ability to communicate eloquently in more than one language. You're right, Mr. President, only speaking one language is embarrassing. I hope that the next generation are given a better shot at overcoming it.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
In just over eight hours I'll be taking the most important test of my undergraduate life. I've spent the day in various cafes, a library and 4 different city buses trying to cram 15 chapters of the Arabic language back into the easily accessible parts of my brain. I tried to relax a bit by listening to my ipod while walking home, and found myself trying to translate "dirt off your shoulder" into Arabic. I'm starting to think about Maha and Khalid like they're my real cousins. My fear of the lowercase letter e is becoming concerning. I have consumed a truly unhealthy amount of caffeine.
For these reasons, I thought it advisable to keep my letter to you quite short. I noticed you gave a back to school speech in Pennsylvania today (proving, once more, that it never stops paying to be a swing state) and I thought I'd channel my test anxiety into a relevant comment on education. Foreign languages should be taught in primary education. You've already said this, and been criticized for it (naturally,) even expressing your own embarrassment at being monolingual. While it may be an unfair stereotype to suggest that Americans can't speak multiple languages, I think the mere fact that some people find it outrageous that you would suggest we ought to learn a second language as children demonstrates it certainly isn't a cultural value in America they way it is in many other parts of the world. This is more difficult to change, of course, but I think that Americans in general do want to see their children grow to be successful and well-educated, and multilingual graduates will likely also be more employable, should there ever again be jobs available.
Maybe I'm just saying this since I'm scared out of my mind that my whole life will be over if I don't pas my placement test tomorrow, but I feel like the ability to communicate with non-English speakers would go a long way toward easing the hostility that some Americans feel about foreigners. And we could certainly do with less xenophobia in our foreign relations and immigration policies. Even if I pass this test tomorrow and spend another year devoted to learning Arabic, my best hope is to graduate with the vocabulary of an overly formal third grader. Had I spent elementary school studying Arabic, or really any language, this might not be such a Hurculean task. At this point, having 100% of high school graduates fluent in English might still seem daunting, but I think an earlier and more consistent emphasis on a second language might help in that area, as well. At least more High school graduates would, in theory, know what a verb is.
While I was searching the internet to find out if you spoke a foreign language, I found the headline "Does Obama speak Arabic?" I was really hopeful that the answer would be yes, so that maybe I could write you a letter in Arabic at some point, but then I saw that the article was from The Weekly Standard. Our media does this country so proud. Anyway, I'm going to continue studying. It's too late for me, by the time you read this letter the die will be cast, my fate will be decided and my hopes of attaining a third-grade vocabulary in Arabic secured or dashed forever. But there are a whole generation of American children starting school this week who might still hope to graduate with the ability to communicate eloquently in more than one language. You're right, Mr. President, only speaking one language is embarrassing. I hope that the next generation are given a better shot at overcoming it.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Day 210- 20 schools
Dear Mr. President,
Sometimes I'm surprised by my own naive certainty that you're always going to make the right call. Before tonight, if any one had asked me about the discrepancy between what we spend on defense and what we spend on all the things that would make defense spending less necessary, I would have suggested it was large. I had no idea how large. 1 soldier or 20 schools? Nicholas Kristof asks in his latest column. I am often skeptical of such scathing criticism of your policies, Mr. President, but it is difficult to deny the facts Kristof cites about the unforgivable cost of this war.
I think it's funny, in that way that things like this are not funny at all, that you can give a speech on education in which you decry the current state of American education as "morally inexcusable" and remind us all that "education is an economic issue -- if not “the” economic issue of our time", and then continue to pretend like the key to Afghanistan's stability is an even bigger Pentagon budget or more US troops. Call me crazy, but if education is important to the future of America, might it not also be a better strategy for a politically and economically stable Afghanistan? Maybe you should have replaced General McChrystal with Greg Mortenson? 20 schools seems like a much better deal than a single soldier, and not just because schools are less likely to kill civilians, but because our military operation can only offer stability while it is present, while the positive effects of an education system will outlast even the schools themselves.
I know, it's more than a bit silly to read a single op-ed and feel like I've got the best plan for how to fix Afghanistan. I guess what surprises me is that I always assumed this was sort of your plan. Fewer guns, more schools. That kind of thing. I don't think I misjudged your values and I don't think your values have changed. I think it's harder to stop an object (or military industrial complex) in motion, and that sending troops and weapons looks a lot better to swing-state voters than building schools. I just hope that you read Mr. Kristof's column, and that, the next time you give a speech about the paramount importance of our own education system, you also consider how that logic might apply to the countries we've invaded, ostensibly for the sake of their own stability.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sometimes I'm surprised by my own naive certainty that you're always going to make the right call. Before tonight, if any one had asked me about the discrepancy between what we spend on defense and what we spend on all the things that would make defense spending less necessary, I would have suggested it was large. I had no idea how large. 1 soldier or 20 schools? Nicholas Kristof asks in his latest column. I am often skeptical of such scathing criticism of your policies, Mr. President, but it is difficult to deny the facts Kristof cites about the unforgivable cost of this war.
I think it's funny, in that way that things like this are not funny at all, that you can give a speech on education in which you decry the current state of American education as "morally inexcusable" and remind us all that "education is an economic issue -- if not “the” economic issue of our time", and then continue to pretend like the key to Afghanistan's stability is an even bigger Pentagon budget or more US troops. Call me crazy, but if education is important to the future of America, might it not also be a better strategy for a politically and economically stable Afghanistan? Maybe you should have replaced General McChrystal with Greg Mortenson? 20 schools seems like a much better deal than a single soldier, and not just because schools are less likely to kill civilians, but because our military operation can only offer stability while it is present, while the positive effects of an education system will outlast even the schools themselves.
I know, it's more than a bit silly to read a single op-ed and feel like I've got the best plan for how to fix Afghanistan. I guess what surprises me is that I always assumed this was sort of your plan. Fewer guns, more schools. That kind of thing. I don't think I misjudged your values and I don't think your values have changed. I think it's harder to stop an object (or military industrial complex) in motion, and that sending troops and weapons looks a lot better to swing-state voters than building schools. I just hope that you read Mr. Kristof's column, and that, the next time you give a speech about the paramount importance of our own education system, you also consider how that logic might apply to the countries we've invaded, ostensibly for the sake of their own stability.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 175- Thank you
Dear Mr. President,
Thank you so much! I just got my financial aid letter from the University of Washington, and I'm going to be OK. More than OK, I'm going to be able to finish school, and graduate and, because I won't need to work full-time, I'll be able to do this with the concentration and devotion that my education deserves. This would not have happened without the expansion of federal pell grants, and, of course, without the generosity of my school, which ensures that lower-income students have their tuition paid for with grants. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
This has been my most important dream for so long; I, for the first time in a long time, am daring to hope that the life I have to look forward to will be one I've wanted and not one that my circumstances have forced me to accept. Getting my degree has been such a struggle, and I can't begin to convey how relieved I am to finally believe it might be possible. It is in my control, the responsibility for my success or failure is mine alone; my family's financial situation will no longer hold me back or give me any excuses. This is frightening, and it is exciting, and I will do everything in my power to rise to the challenge.
Since I just received the news, I am perhaps too exuberant to find anything more to add. Thank you so much, Mr. President, I promise I will make this experience count.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thank you so much! I just got my financial aid letter from the University of Washington, and I'm going to be OK. More than OK, I'm going to be able to finish school, and graduate and, because I won't need to work full-time, I'll be able to do this with the concentration and devotion that my education deserves. This would not have happened without the expansion of federal pell grants, and, of course, without the generosity of my school, which ensures that lower-income students have their tuition paid for with grants. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
This has been my most important dream for so long; I, for the first time in a long time, am daring to hope that the life I have to look forward to will be one I've wanted and not one that my circumstances have forced me to accept. Getting my degree has been such a struggle, and I can't begin to convey how relieved I am to finally believe it might be possible. It is in my control, the responsibility for my success or failure is mine alone; my family's financial situation will no longer hold me back or give me any excuses. This is frightening, and it is exciting, and I will do everything in my power to rise to the challenge.
Since I just received the news, I am perhaps too exuberant to find anything more to add. Thank you so much, Mr. President, I promise I will make this experience count.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Day 163
Dear Mr. President,
Several Januaries ago, I was living in Washington DC, and I'd just begun training as a barista in my bookstore's cafe. Sometime during the week-long training process, the dress code's exclusion of pinstripe pants, the same actions and combinations of ingredients repeated drink after drink after drink, even the words we were taught to say started to bother me. I sat outside the store on my lunch break, ignoring the light snow, and cried with despair. I was 21, and convinced that, because I was not in school for the first time in my life, I was doomed to amount to nothing, that my life was broken beyond repair. My boss sat outside with me and asked me what it was in life that I wanted. He told me (perhaps in an attempt to boost my self-esteem and perhaps because he meant it) that I was too smart to be serving coffee, that I wasn't allowed to give up on my potential yet.
I'm 24 now, and I still serve coffee. I'm going back to school this fall, and, while I'm terrified that I'm no longer smart enough or somehow too old to be back in a University, I would not be doing it if it weren't for this belief that I have the potential to be more. That serving coffee is not my destiny. I want to be useful to people, to Do Good and to matter in ways I can't really articulate but I know can never be realized if I don't finish my education. I'm afraid that this is arrogant, that I might do a lot worse than to serve coffee and that I should not imagine myself to be better than any job, no matter how awful the hours or silly the dress code or mindless the work. I'm afraid that I will only disappoint myself if I try for more. Maybe my destiny is just as ordinary as I am now, and I should make the most of it.
I could not do this without the legislation you've passed to make higher education more accessible to people like me, and for that I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I think that the importance of education cannot be overstated, and I am so glad that my government recognizes this. You can't give me the answers, you can't give me direction or purpose or self satisfaction, but you can and have given me the assurance of knowing that the education I need to escape is possible, even for some one of my limited economic means.
I look back on the person I was, years ago, and I see that I have grown up enough to believe in second chances; that I am not so young as to think that 24 is too old to start over. I'm still plagued by the same fears and the same arrogance and the same self-doubt, but at least I have enough hope to try and improve my situation. I have had too much help from too many teachers and mentors and friends along the way to ever imagine I am doing this alone, and I know that it is their faith, more than anything, which has given me the audacity to try again. I hope that, when I am much older and, hopefully, wiser, I can look back at this summer and my restlessness and see that it was all for the best, that my growing out of my situation in life will lead to greater happiness for me and greater usefulness to our society. I dare to imagine that is exactly what you had in mind.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Several Januaries ago, I was living in Washington DC, and I'd just begun training as a barista in my bookstore's cafe. Sometime during the week-long training process, the dress code's exclusion of pinstripe pants, the same actions and combinations of ingredients repeated drink after drink after drink, even the words we were taught to say started to bother me. I sat outside the store on my lunch break, ignoring the light snow, and cried with despair. I was 21, and convinced that, because I was not in school for the first time in my life, I was doomed to amount to nothing, that my life was broken beyond repair. My boss sat outside with me and asked me what it was in life that I wanted. He told me (perhaps in an attempt to boost my self-esteem and perhaps because he meant it) that I was too smart to be serving coffee, that I wasn't allowed to give up on my potential yet.
I'm 24 now, and I still serve coffee. I'm going back to school this fall, and, while I'm terrified that I'm no longer smart enough or somehow too old to be back in a University, I would not be doing it if it weren't for this belief that I have the potential to be more. That serving coffee is not my destiny. I want to be useful to people, to Do Good and to matter in ways I can't really articulate but I know can never be realized if I don't finish my education. I'm afraid that this is arrogant, that I might do a lot worse than to serve coffee and that I should not imagine myself to be better than any job, no matter how awful the hours or silly the dress code or mindless the work. I'm afraid that I will only disappoint myself if I try for more. Maybe my destiny is just as ordinary as I am now, and I should make the most of it.
I could not do this without the legislation you've passed to make higher education more accessible to people like me, and for that I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I think that the importance of education cannot be overstated, and I am so glad that my government recognizes this. You can't give me the answers, you can't give me direction or purpose or self satisfaction, but you can and have given me the assurance of knowing that the education I need to escape is possible, even for some one of my limited economic means.
I look back on the person I was, years ago, and I see that I have grown up enough to believe in second chances; that I am not so young as to think that 24 is too old to start over. I'm still plagued by the same fears and the same arrogance and the same self-doubt, but at least I have enough hope to try and improve my situation. I have had too much help from too many teachers and mentors and friends along the way to ever imagine I am doing this alone, and I know that it is their faith, more than anything, which has given me the audacity to try again. I hope that, when I am much older and, hopefully, wiser, I can look back at this summer and my restlessness and see that it was all for the best, that my growing out of my situation in life will lead to greater happiness for me and greater usefulness to our society. I dare to imagine that is exactly what you had in mind.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Day 142- Moonshine
Dear Mr. President,
The oil spill keeps coming up in odd conversations today. A coworker asked me if I'd written to you about it, after she'd learnt the extent of the damage. A customer, before driving off with his latte, asked if we'd heard about the 10-mile underwater plumes. My Aunt, visiting from California, brought up the ominous feelings she's been having about how much worse it could get. It's been on my mind all day, so perhaps it's understandable that when I saw the headline for Nicholas Kristof's op-ed, "Moonshine or the kids?" I thought it was a reference to the oil spill. The op-ed is actually about misplaced priorities amongst the poorest families in Africa who struggle with substance abuse problems. But it might as well be about the boomer generation.
It's not that I think they're bad parents. I think, for the most part, parents want to do the right thing for their children, to act in their best interest. But, be it cheap oil or lower taxes or wracking up credit card debit instead of saving for college, the generation that has steered our nation to its current state has been quick to trade long-term interest for immediate gratification. To keep drinking the moonshine.
The conversation with my coworker quickly devolved into a litany of things that are wrong with the world, things that scare us, if we think about them too much. The world is so messed up, I told her, and I just don't know how to fix it. Getting angry at those that brought us here, the generation that came before, won't help me fix it. I know this. I think you're a long-term thinker, Mr. President, and what many would call inaction is in fact a strategy that considers the next five generations and not just the next five years. I hope that this perception is an accurate one; if we do not change the way we think, start seeing our children's legacy as more valuable than our next fix, they will never forgive us.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Day 132- The myth of mainstream
Dear Mr. President,
In today's Washington Post, Kathleen Parker contends that, due to her education and New York City origins, "Elena Kagan is miles away from mainstream America." While her argument, which is based on some pretty impressively weak logic, is artfully refuted by Ed Kilgore at fivethirtyeight, I'd like to discuss why it is acceptable for Ms. Parker to so casually assert the claim that some of us are somehow more American than others. Imagine, for a moment, if she based this claim not on geography, but on race, gender, age, or religion; would the Washington Post still put its name above that? I am so tired of the conservative contention that there is a "real" America and a "liberal" America, and that living in or coming from a certain type of place makes a person more or less representative of quintessential America.
I grew up in a small town, with farms and small businesses and enough Christian republicans with barely a GED in their ancestry to satisfy even Ms. Parker's definition of a "real" American town. I don't think the people I grew up with can be described as any one thing, (other than, maybe, as Arlingtonians,) and certainly not as qualified (or unqualified) for the Supreme Court. Now, however, I live in a city full of vegetarian atheist lesbians who have PHDs and disdain Wal-mart; again, nothing except our geographic location is true for all of us, and, no matter what Ms. Parker (or Ms. Palin) may think, living in a city didn't change the seal on my passport, or my devotion to this country.
This stirs such an emotional response from me because I had a stepmother who constantly told me that my "book smarts" were inferior to the "street smarts" she and her family possessed. That I, as a young teenager, could be more intelligent than her, but I would never have more common sense. I have not finished college, largely because I have had to work a full-time job for the entirety of it, but, were I to go back to my stepmother's house, I would still be classified, in her mind, as numbering among the out-of-touch, academic, elite. Like Kagan, I am somehow less authentically American. I am so angry that my intelligence, which may not be anything better than slightly above average but is still my greatest strength, makes me lesser, in the eyes of this woman and those who think like her. I got a 5 on the AP calculus and English tests; I got a 1490 SATs and I was a National Merit Scholar. I've also flipped burgers, cut pizzas, waited tables, ran cash registers, and, god knows, made lattes. I've lived in rural and urban areas, in suburban cookie-cutter houses, and in tiny, turn-of-the-century apartment buildings. None of this says much about the type of person that I am, or my qualification as an "ordinary" American. I'm an American, so is Elena Kagan, and if my experience is an American experience, so is hers.
The nine men and women who wield the ultimate power of the Judicial branch with lifetime appointments should not be "ordinary." These should be the brightest, most engaged and creative and, yes, educated, individuals we can find. An understanding of how the law affects ordinary Americans (a classification that I think you intended to indicate Americans without direct power in any of the three branches of government, and not their hometown,) does not mean that one has to be average. I can't say much about what I do or do not want a Supreme Court Justice to be; they can come from any state, any religion, any race, any social class. The one thing I know for sure is that I don't want average minds on the Supreme Court. This is not to say that one must be an Ivy league scholar, either, only that I think the strengths and advantages that make a person extraordinary ought to be valued, not disdained.
It is long past time to end the social acceptability of such disdain for education and intelligence, the belief that one's patriotism or empathy is tied, somehow, to what part of the country they come from. Elena Kagan must be evaluated on her merit's as a potential Justice, not on her place of birth.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
In today's Washington Post, Kathleen Parker contends that, due to her education and New York City origins, "Elena Kagan is miles away from mainstream America." While her argument, which is based on some pretty impressively weak logic, is artfully refuted by Ed Kilgore at fivethirtyeight, I'd like to discuss why it is acceptable for Ms. Parker to so casually assert the claim that some of us are somehow more American than others. Imagine, for a moment, if she based this claim not on geography, but on race, gender, age, or religion; would the Washington Post still put its name above that? I am so tired of the conservative contention that there is a "real" America and a "liberal" America, and that living in or coming from a certain type of place makes a person more or less representative of quintessential America.
I grew up in a small town, with farms and small businesses and enough Christian republicans with barely a GED in their ancestry to satisfy even Ms. Parker's definition of a "real" American town. I don't think the people I grew up with can be described as any one thing, (other than, maybe, as Arlingtonians,) and certainly not as qualified (or unqualified) for the Supreme Court. Now, however, I live in a city full of vegetarian atheist lesbians who have PHDs and disdain Wal-mart; again, nothing except our geographic location is true for all of us, and, no matter what Ms. Parker (or Ms. Palin) may think, living in a city didn't change the seal on my passport, or my devotion to this country.
This stirs such an emotional response from me because I had a stepmother who constantly told me that my "book smarts" were inferior to the "street smarts" she and her family possessed. That I, as a young teenager, could be more intelligent than her, but I would never have more common sense. I have not finished college, largely because I have had to work a full-time job for the entirety of it, but, were I to go back to my stepmother's house, I would still be classified, in her mind, as numbering among the out-of-touch, academic, elite. Like Kagan, I am somehow less authentically American. I am so angry that my intelligence, which may not be anything better than slightly above average but is still my greatest strength, makes me lesser, in the eyes of this woman and those who think like her. I got a 5 on the AP calculus and English tests; I got a 1490 SATs and I was a National Merit Scholar. I've also flipped burgers, cut pizzas, waited tables, ran cash registers, and, god knows, made lattes. I've lived in rural and urban areas, in suburban cookie-cutter houses, and in tiny, turn-of-the-century apartment buildings. None of this says much about the type of person that I am, or my qualification as an "ordinary" American. I'm an American, so is Elena Kagan, and if my experience is an American experience, so is hers.
The nine men and women who wield the ultimate power of the Judicial branch with lifetime appointments should not be "ordinary." These should be the brightest, most engaged and creative and, yes, educated, individuals we can find. An understanding of how the law affects ordinary Americans (a classification that I think you intended to indicate Americans without direct power in any of the three branches of government, and not their hometown,) does not mean that one has to be average. I can't say much about what I do or do not want a Supreme Court Justice to be; they can come from any state, any religion, any race, any social class. The one thing I know for sure is that I don't want average minds on the Supreme Court. This is not to say that one must be an Ivy league scholar, either, only that I think the strengths and advantages that make a person extraordinary ought to be valued, not disdained.
It is long past time to end the social acceptability of such disdain for education and intelligence, the belief that one's patriotism or empathy is tied, somehow, to what part of the country they come from. Elena Kagan must be evaluated on her merit's as a potential Justice, not on her place of birth.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Day 131
Dear Mr. President,
I applied to go back to school today. After running out of viable alternatives to complete my degree (night school, bank robbery, insurance fraud, etc.) I've finally concluded that I have to face my fear and go back full-time. What is unusual about this situation is that, instead of fearing the unknown, I know exactly what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of the stress, the inevitable choice between being a good employee and being a good student, (or, put another way, of having the means to support myself or the kind of grades I expect,) of the endless bureaucracy of attending a large school, my own deteriorating academic skills and my failure to measure up to classes growing younger as I age. I've been through it, before, and I do not look forward to doing it again, for an entire year. I've put it off for so long, because of the calculated risks, feeling as though I know, already, that I will fail, and so it is not worth trying. But business as usual isn't acceptable; my life is not what I want it to be, my career, my contribution to my community, nothing about my station in life is acceptable and so I have to put aside my habits and self-doubt and even my pride, and I have to do what is difficult.
Lately I feel like your administration has faced a similar struggle. It's as though you can't seem to break out of the same patterns that force you to perpetuate a status quo you know to be unacceptable. Why, for example, is the White House rallying for incumbent Democrats who don't support your legislative agenda? Why do we continue to prop up Hamid Karzai in Afghanistan, or accept defeat when it comes to new energy policy? Our problems are similar, Mr. President, in that we both have the power and will to improve, but somehow find ourselves bogged down in the day-to-day. I understand; it's difficult to get aggressive on your legislative agenda when it's flooding in Tennessee and oil is spilling into the Gulf; when bombs, (or, at least, fair attempts at bombs) are being left in Times Square and Arizona seems ready to replace its law enforcement with a modern-era manifestation of the Glanton gang. But time is slipping away from both of us, and, before you know it, the midterms will be over and it will be time to run again. Your approval rating may be creeping up, but you know that the years will be long gone before you're able to accomplish what you set out to if you wait for the political will to come to you.
Neither of us can afford to waste our time in mediocrity, in half-hearted attempts born of fear. I hope that your administration musters all of its courage and finds new approaches to solving the problems of our day; that you take the difficult paths and fight for your beliefs, without compromising before you even reach the negotiation. You ought to re-evaluate the promises you made to the electorate during your campaign and the progress made so far toward those ends. I worry that four years will pass before you look around and realize you haven't fought hard enough, for fear of failure, or that you've been bogged down with day-by-day crisis management and never got to take on enough of the big picture. A constant reflection on the goals of your administration is essential to the necessary sense of urgency your office requires. Like me, you still have so many people who believe in you, and I know you, too, want that faith to be rewarded.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I applied to go back to school today. After running out of viable alternatives to complete my degree (night school, bank robbery, insurance fraud, etc.) I've finally concluded that I have to face my fear and go back full-time. What is unusual about this situation is that, instead of fearing the unknown, I know exactly what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of the stress, the inevitable choice between being a good employee and being a good student, (or, put another way, of having the means to support myself or the kind of grades I expect,) of the endless bureaucracy of attending a large school, my own deteriorating academic skills and my failure to measure up to classes growing younger as I age. I've been through it, before, and I do not look forward to doing it again, for an entire year. I've put it off for so long, because of the calculated risks, feeling as though I know, already, that I will fail, and so it is not worth trying. But business as usual isn't acceptable; my life is not what I want it to be, my career, my contribution to my community, nothing about my station in life is acceptable and so I have to put aside my habits and self-doubt and even my pride, and I have to do what is difficult.
Lately I feel like your administration has faced a similar struggle. It's as though you can't seem to break out of the same patterns that force you to perpetuate a status quo you know to be unacceptable. Why, for example, is the White House rallying for incumbent Democrats who don't support your legislative agenda? Why do we continue to prop up Hamid Karzai in Afghanistan, or accept defeat when it comes to new energy policy? Our problems are similar, Mr. President, in that we both have the power and will to improve, but somehow find ourselves bogged down in the day-to-day. I understand; it's difficult to get aggressive on your legislative agenda when it's flooding in Tennessee and oil is spilling into the Gulf; when bombs, (or, at least, fair attempts at bombs) are being left in Times Square and Arizona seems ready to replace its law enforcement with a modern-era manifestation of the Glanton gang. But time is slipping away from both of us, and, before you know it, the midterms will be over and it will be time to run again. Your approval rating may be creeping up, but you know that the years will be long gone before you're able to accomplish what you set out to if you wait for the political will to come to you.
Neither of us can afford to waste our time in mediocrity, in half-hearted attempts born of fear. I hope that your administration musters all of its courage and finds new approaches to solving the problems of our day; that you take the difficult paths and fight for your beliefs, without compromising before you even reach the negotiation. You ought to re-evaluate the promises you made to the electorate during your campaign and the progress made so far toward those ends. I worry that four years will pass before you look around and realize you haven't fought hard enough, for fear of failure, or that you've been bogged down with day-by-day crisis management and never got to take on enough of the big picture. A constant reflection on the goals of your administration is essential to the necessary sense of urgency your office requires. Like me, you still have so many people who believe in you, and I know you, too, want that faith to be rewarded.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Day 129- Mom (part 2)
Dear Mr. President,
I wrote you yesterday about my mother's strengths and the many things she has taught me. Perhaps the most important lessons she has passed down are the ones she never intended to; the lessons I learned, not from her strength, but her shortcomings. My mother is not a saint. She is quick to anger, often hijacked by her emotions and was unable to prepare me for the same feelings that would take over, without warning, the despair and the rage and the inexplicable rapidity and intensity with which they would strike. She often became angry or emotional without warning or obvious provocation, and, as I find myself disposed to the same behavior, I have nothing from her to look to for how to manage it.
Growing up, she never sought to control us, something I'm sure was considered a weakness in a parent, though I think it granted her children somewhat more in the way of independence, if we occasionally lack in discipline and direction. This taught me to take responsibility for my actions; to do what I believe to be right, to question rules and limitations arbitrarily imposed upon me by others. While I might at times have wished for the ease and simplicity of being given the solutions, my mother seemed to believe it was more important for me to find my own answers, than to ensure that I arrived at the right one.
My mother's failings have taught me that it is acceptable to be human. To make mistakes. To succumb to emotion. To fail, apologize, and try again. She has allowed me to know and to understand her as a person, not just as a faultless maternal symbol. This acceptance of weakness and fault in another person is essential to develop compassion, empathy and self-awareness. I see this lacking so often in our society, be it in our feigned shock at the human shortcomings of our leaders, or in our lack of compassion for those who have made bad choices, regardless of the desperation of the circumstances. I suppose expecting a lot from other people is good, we do, at times, surprise ourselves by living up to the best of what other people expect of us; but demands for perfect must, inevitably, be only requests for deception or disappointment, two things most of us will encounter far too often, anyway.
And so, in that spirit, I write you today in order to praise my mother's faults, her errors and her eccentricities; her failures and her bad judgment. As my first, and most significant teacher, she has, though these errors, given me the ability to accept them in others, and in myself. In this time of such deep uncertainty, it is reassuring to know that I can still count on people, even when I find their perfection lacking.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I wrote you yesterday about my mother's strengths and the many things she has taught me. Perhaps the most important lessons she has passed down are the ones she never intended to; the lessons I learned, not from her strength, but her shortcomings. My mother is not a saint. She is quick to anger, often hijacked by her emotions and was unable to prepare me for the same feelings that would take over, without warning, the despair and the rage and the inexplicable rapidity and intensity with which they would strike. She often became angry or emotional without warning or obvious provocation, and, as I find myself disposed to the same behavior, I have nothing from her to look to for how to manage it.
Growing up, she never sought to control us, something I'm sure was considered a weakness in a parent, though I think it granted her children somewhat more in the way of independence, if we occasionally lack in discipline and direction. This taught me to take responsibility for my actions; to do what I believe to be right, to question rules and limitations arbitrarily imposed upon me by others. While I might at times have wished for the ease and simplicity of being given the solutions, my mother seemed to believe it was more important for me to find my own answers, than to ensure that I arrived at the right one.
My mother's failings have taught me that it is acceptable to be human. To make mistakes. To succumb to emotion. To fail, apologize, and try again. She has allowed me to know and to understand her as a person, not just as a faultless maternal symbol. This acceptance of weakness and fault in another person is essential to develop compassion, empathy and self-awareness. I see this lacking so often in our society, be it in our feigned shock at the human shortcomings of our leaders, or in our lack of compassion for those who have made bad choices, regardless of the desperation of the circumstances. I suppose expecting a lot from other people is good, we do, at times, surprise ourselves by living up to the best of what other people expect of us; but demands for perfect must, inevitably, be only requests for deception or disappointment, two things most of us will encounter far too often, anyway.
And so, in that spirit, I write you today in order to praise my mother's faults, her errors and her eccentricities; her failures and her bad judgment. As my first, and most significant teacher, she has, though these errors, given me the ability to accept them in others, and in myself. In this time of such deep uncertainty, it is reassuring to know that I can still count on people, even when I find their perfection lacking.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Day 124
Dear Mr. President,
Some days, I'll admit, I really don't know what to say. I read the press briefings, I read the White House blog, I read the news. Sometimes I'm upset or encouraged by things and I want to tell you. Sometimes I think I actually can offer a unique perspective. Most of the time, I remember that you're surrounded by advisers who know better than me, (and probably even a few who know better than you,) and you don't need another voice chiming in to tell you what you already know. These days, when I have nothing policy-related to contribute, I just want to give you a better idea of what it's like to be me, your constituent and supporter and fellow American.
Today was a challenging day. For the last few days I've been feeling angry and exhausted and anxious, and today I realized it's because I'm scared. I'm scared of looking the mirror and reconciling myself to who I have become. I'm scared that the life I lead now might be all I'm ever going to do; that the 8 years of my life spent in near-minimum wage jobs, working for hours on my feet has brought me nowhere closer to the life I thought I'd have by this age. I'm scared that if I do what I have to do to finish my degree that it will be too hard, or I'll have gotten too stupid, or I'll be just as lost and tired and poor on the other side of graduation. This fear chases me every day, and today, for no reason at all, it has become overwhelming.
There are so many harder things in life than fear of disappointed hopes. Today while riding the ferry I met a Filipino woman who wanted me to know that she was 73 years old. She was so adamant about this that she pulled out her driver's license to show me. She's lived in America for 53 years and she told me that, even though she's a senior citizen and doesn't have to pay for the bus, she still pays every time because she's "rich." After we got off of the ferry (an ordeal in itself when you're 73, 5' tall, and trying to carry an umbrella and a full, boiling hot, cup-o-noodle,) she spent most of our bus ride shaking her umbrella at the bus driver and scolding him for driving too slow or stopping too long at stoplights. I think she might be a little crazy, but after living 73 years, moving to a new country and learning a new language, having 4 children and 8 grandchildren and still taking day trips on public transit by herself to see the sights of the islands, I also think she's earned a bit of madness. (The driver seemed to agree, and bore her abuse with good humor.) What strikes me, as I reflect on our conversation, is the intense self-satisfaction she seemed to exude. She told me she's going to die soon, but that it's OK because she's been alive long enough. I wonder what enough will look like, for me. Will I ever reach a point where I feel like I've done and said and lived enough? Will I ever take stock of my accomplishments with the same pride?
When people ask me if I think you've read any of my letters personally, I always point out that you read 10/night, and even if I'm only 1 in 40,000 letters every day, I still have hope. Sometimes I have specific questions I'd like answered, specific complaints I'd like addressed, and sometimes I don't worry about getting a response at all. Tonight is one of those times where I don't imagine there's a form letter your office can send in response to this, (unless, of course, you have "keep your chin up, tiger" form letters, in which case I think I really will have collected them all.) There's no legislative agenda to address my concerns, no shift in public policy that would make me sleep easy tonight. I'm just scared; scared about the smallness of my life and the darkness of the unknown before me. I don't think that you can be plagued by this kind of self-doubt, but having the tangible evidence of your own significance that comes with raising a family, writing bestsellers, and holding high office must be its own kind of burden. I suppose if you can do those things, if the woman on the ferry today can live the kind of life she has, I can put aside this unproductive fear and find my own way to contribute something more.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Some days, I'll admit, I really don't know what to say. I read the press briefings, I read the White House blog, I read the news. Sometimes I'm upset or encouraged by things and I want to tell you. Sometimes I think I actually can offer a unique perspective. Most of the time, I remember that you're surrounded by advisers who know better than me, (and probably even a few who know better than you,) and you don't need another voice chiming in to tell you what you already know. These days, when I have nothing policy-related to contribute, I just want to give you a better idea of what it's like to be me, your constituent and supporter and fellow American.
Today was a challenging day. For the last few days I've been feeling angry and exhausted and anxious, and today I realized it's because I'm scared. I'm scared of looking the mirror and reconciling myself to who I have become. I'm scared that the life I lead now might be all I'm ever going to do; that the 8 years of my life spent in near-minimum wage jobs, working for hours on my feet has brought me nowhere closer to the life I thought I'd have by this age. I'm scared that if I do what I have to do to finish my degree that it will be too hard, or I'll have gotten too stupid, or I'll be just as lost and tired and poor on the other side of graduation. This fear chases me every day, and today, for no reason at all, it has become overwhelming.
There are so many harder things in life than fear of disappointed hopes. Today while riding the ferry I met a Filipino woman who wanted me to know that she was 73 years old. She was so adamant about this that she pulled out her driver's license to show me. She's lived in America for 53 years and she told me that, even though she's a senior citizen and doesn't have to pay for the bus, she still pays every time because she's "rich." After we got off of the ferry (an ordeal in itself when you're 73, 5' tall, and trying to carry an umbrella and a full, boiling hot, cup-o-noodle,) she spent most of our bus ride shaking her umbrella at the bus driver and scolding him for driving too slow or stopping too long at stoplights. I think she might be a little crazy, but after living 73 years, moving to a new country and learning a new language, having 4 children and 8 grandchildren and still taking day trips on public transit by herself to see the sights of the islands, I also think she's earned a bit of madness. (The driver seemed to agree, and bore her abuse with good humor.) What strikes me, as I reflect on our conversation, is the intense self-satisfaction she seemed to exude. She told me she's going to die soon, but that it's OK because she's been alive long enough. I wonder what enough will look like, for me. Will I ever reach a point where I feel like I've done and said and lived enough? Will I ever take stock of my accomplishments with the same pride?
When people ask me if I think you've read any of my letters personally, I always point out that you read 10/night, and even if I'm only 1 in 40,000 letters every day, I still have hope. Sometimes I have specific questions I'd like answered, specific complaints I'd like addressed, and sometimes I don't worry about getting a response at all. Tonight is one of those times where I don't imagine there's a form letter your office can send in response to this, (unless, of course, you have "keep your chin up, tiger" form letters, in which case I think I really will have collected them all.) There's no legislative agenda to address my concerns, no shift in public policy that would make me sleep easy tonight. I'm just scared; scared about the smallness of my life and the darkness of the unknown before me. I don't think that you can be plagued by this kind of self-doubt, but having the tangible evidence of your own significance that comes with raising a family, writing bestsellers, and holding high office must be its own kind of burden. I suppose if you can do those things, if the woman on the ferry today can live the kind of life she has, I can put aside this unproductive fear and find my own way to contribute something more.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Day 117- Back in the kitchen
We have trailblazers like Sheikha Hanadi of Qatar, along with Waed al Taweel, who I met earlier -- a 20-year-old student from the West Bank who wants to build recreation centers for Palestinian youth. So together, they represent the incredible talents of women entrepreneurs and remind us that countries that educate and empower women are countries that are far more likely to prosper. I believe that.
-President Barack Obama, Presidential Summit on Entrepreneurship 4/26/2010
Dear Mr. President,
In your remarks on Entrepreneurship, you said "countries that educate and empower women are countries that are far more likely to prosper." I appreciate these sentiments, sir. It brought to mind the women I met in Palestine, from the Women in Hebron co-operative, who sold crafts and embroidery and invested in their community, or from the Women in Culture co-operative in Jenin, or even the bright students in our group, who studied science or medicine or business at schools in Bethlehem and Jerusalem. These women were inspiring, many of them pulling themselves out of tragedy, the loss of sons or husbands, to earn their own way in the world. Their society values and respects women, and they are living testaments to this. We met with young women in Bir Zeit, student organizers and community leaders. It seemed hopeful, in a society whose young men are often targeted and imprisoned by the occupation forces, that women were taking on roles as leaders in their community. Unfortunately, politically active young women are, increasingly, becoming targets themselves.
One of the things I am asked, most often, is how I was able to travel alone in the Middle East as a woman. I often try to correct the misconceptions about the role of women in Palestinian society, but it is difficult to combat cultural stereotypes. Even the Israeli soldiers who detained our group were asking the American women in our group why we were there, if we knew "what Arabs do to women", and if we were afraid, even as we traveled in a group that was largely composed of young women from a number of countries and religious backgrounds.
I think America often overestimates the progress we've made in the way women are treated in our society. Congresswoman Betty Sutton's republican opponent suggested that she get "out of the House and back in the kitchen," demonstrating that sexism is alive and well in America in 2010. Utah passed legislation this year that makes me think women in that state are valued for little more than their reproductive abilities. I'm glad that your administration has demonstrated through actions, and not just words, your commitment to advancement for women, but, as a nation, we still have a long way to go.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
-President Barack Obama, Presidential Summit on Entrepreneurship 4/26/2010
Dear Mr. President,
In your remarks on Entrepreneurship, you said "countries that educate and empower women are countries that are far more likely to prosper." I appreciate these sentiments, sir. It brought to mind the women I met in Palestine, from the Women in Hebron co-operative, who sold crafts and embroidery and invested in their community, or from the Women in Culture co-operative in Jenin, or even the bright students in our group, who studied science or medicine or business at schools in Bethlehem and Jerusalem. These women were inspiring, many of them pulling themselves out of tragedy, the loss of sons or husbands, to earn their own way in the world. Their society values and respects women, and they are living testaments to this. We met with young women in Bir Zeit, student organizers and community leaders. It seemed hopeful, in a society whose young men are often targeted and imprisoned by the occupation forces, that women were taking on roles as leaders in their community. Unfortunately, politically active young women are, increasingly, becoming targets themselves.
One of the things I am asked, most often, is how I was able to travel alone in the Middle East as a woman. I often try to correct the misconceptions about the role of women in Palestinian society, but it is difficult to combat cultural stereotypes. Even the Israeli soldiers who detained our group were asking the American women in our group why we were there, if we knew "what Arabs do to women", and if we were afraid, even as we traveled in a group that was largely composed of young women from a number of countries and religious backgrounds.
I think America often overestimates the progress we've made in the way women are treated in our society. Congresswoman Betty Sutton's republican opponent suggested that she get "out of the House and back in the kitchen," demonstrating that sexism is alive and well in America in 2010. Utah passed legislation this year that makes me think women in that state are valued for little more than their reproductive abilities. I'm glad that your administration has demonstrated through actions, and not just words, your commitment to advancement for women, but, as a nation, we still have a long way to go.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Day 105- Mars or bust!
Little more than 40 years ago, astronauts descended the nine-rung ladder of the lunar module called Eagle, and allowed their feet to touch the dusty surface of the Earth’s only Moon. This was the culmination of a daring and perilous gambit -- of an endeavor that pushed the boundaries of our knowledge, of our technological prowess, of our very capacity as human beings to solve problems. It wasn’t just the greatest achievement in NASA’s history -- it was one of the greatest achievements in human history.
-President Obama, 4/15/2010
Dear Mr. President,
Your speech today about America's future in space was thrilling. I was happy, first of all, to learn of your ambitious and thoughtful plan, and also to see you combating the recent claims by some on the right that your decision to end the Constellation program would curtail America's leadership in space exploration. I know that NASA is a nonpartisan organization and that your support for missions to Mars have less to do with what's best for the Democratic party than with what's best for the American people, and I respect you for that. That this was also an opportunity to combat disingenuous statements made by your political opponents is really just an added bonus for those of us keeping score at home.
I've been smiling uncontrollably since I watched the speech on youtube. I'll never be an astronaut, and I think my chance at being a NASA scientist was lost when I chose to pursue a degree in Middle Eastern Studies, but the 5th grade girl that asked for a telescope for Christmas is so very happy that I might live to see humans set foot on another planet. With little more than words, you've inspired us to believe in what we can do together. To imagine witnessing the kind of history made from triumph and not tragedy.
But this speech wasn't the only thing you did today that dared me, and the rest of America to dream of an even brighter future. Today you issued a memorandum aimed at allowing visitation rights for same-sex partners in hospitals. This was an incredibly sensible and compassionate thing to do. I'd like to think that, if I can imagine my young nephew growing up to walk on Mars, I can also imagine him growing up to enjoy the same rights and privileges as any American, no matter who he loves. Our progress in technology and innovation must be matched by social progress; as we become smarter and more capable, we must also become more just. I doubt very much that the two acts were linked in your mind, but I hope you know they were linked in mine. Both were very small steps toward a distant future, one that will require the best of all of us to achieve. I will go to bed tonight dreaming of the days ahead, a red light blinking softly in the night sky and a society that does not discriminate against its citizens for the people that they love.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
And the question for us now is whether that was the beginning of something or the end of something. I choose to believe it was only the beginning.
-President Obama, 4/15/2010
Dear Mr. President,
Your speech today about America's future in space was thrilling. I was happy, first of all, to learn of your ambitious and thoughtful plan, and also to see you combating the recent claims by some on the right that your decision to end the Constellation program would curtail America's leadership in space exploration. I know that NASA is a nonpartisan organization and that your support for missions to Mars have less to do with what's best for the Democratic party than with what's best for the American people, and I respect you for that. That this was also an opportunity to combat disingenuous statements made by your political opponents is really just an added bonus for those of us keeping score at home.
I've been smiling uncontrollably since I watched the speech on youtube. I'll never be an astronaut, and I think my chance at being a NASA scientist was lost when I chose to pursue a degree in Middle Eastern Studies, but the 5th grade girl that asked for a telescope for Christmas is so very happy that I might live to see humans set foot on another planet. With little more than words, you've inspired us to believe in what we can do together. To imagine witnessing the kind of history made from triumph and not tragedy.
But this speech wasn't the only thing you did today that dared me, and the rest of America to dream of an even brighter future. Today you issued a memorandum aimed at allowing visitation rights for same-sex partners in hospitals. This was an incredibly sensible and compassionate thing to do. I'd like to think that, if I can imagine my young nephew growing up to walk on Mars, I can also imagine him growing up to enjoy the same rights and privileges as any American, no matter who he loves. Our progress in technology and innovation must be matched by social progress; as we become smarter and more capable, we must also become more just. I doubt very much that the two acts were linked in your mind, but I hope you know they were linked in mine. Both were very small steps toward a distant future, one that will require the best of all of us to achieve. I will go to bed tonight dreaming of the days ahead, a red light blinking softly in the night sky and a society that does not discriminate against its citizens for the people that they love.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Day 104- Death, taxes, and hypocrisy
Dear Mr. President,
I confess, I paid no federal income taxes this year. This seems to be upsetting to a number of people on TV, and Glenn Beck seems to think this means I ought to be drafted into military service. I don't know that I'd make a particularly good soldier, to be honest. I'm happy to contribute to the work of running our government and the costs of social services, infrastructure projects, and national defense, but, in the spirit of full disclosure, I thought I'd let you know what else I didn't do this year.
For starters, I didn't receive a bonus while leading a company that lost money or accepted tax payer money as a bail out. I didn't lay off any employees, cut any one's wages, or slash their benefits. I didn't cheat on my taxes by misrepresenting my income or eligibility for tax credits; I didn't hide my profits in offshore subsidiaries. I didn't bribe legislators into writing loopholes in the tax code to allow me to pay less. I didn't make huge amounts of money creating a financial crisis that devastated the economy. I didn't manipulate consumers with credit card offers or sell them mortgages they couldn't afford; I didn't present a false picture of my financial health in order to dupe my shareholders. I didn't take money from gullible people who trusted me and ruin their retirement or life savings. I didn't start any wars, I didn't commit a single murder, I didn't violate any one's human rights.
My state doesn't have an income tax, so I pay almost 10% in sales tax on everything I buy. I do take public transportation or walk because I can't afford a car. I share a two-bedroom apartment with 3 other girls because we can't afford higher rent. I pay medicare and social security taxes, even though both may be bankrupt by the time I qualify for them. I support local business, local artists, and local farmers, and I help decrease the amount of pesticides and herbicides running off into waterways because I buy organic. I contribute to my company's charitable fund, as well as other charities. I recycle. I try to avoid breaking the law whenever possible. I take on more student debt each year, as tuition (and class sizes) go up. I work for a living, and I support myself as best I can.
I'm not perfect; there is a lot more I can do for my community, and for the world. But I try to increase the good that I do and decrease the bad, as much as possible. If that's not enough for Fox News or Drudge or Glenn Beck, well, I guess I'm just going to have to find a way to live with their disdain.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I confess, I paid no federal income taxes this year. This seems to be upsetting to a number of people on TV, and Glenn Beck seems to think this means I ought to be drafted into military service. I don't know that I'd make a particularly good soldier, to be honest. I'm happy to contribute to the work of running our government and the costs of social services, infrastructure projects, and national defense, but, in the spirit of full disclosure, I thought I'd let you know what else I didn't do this year.
For starters, I didn't receive a bonus while leading a company that lost money or accepted tax payer money as a bail out. I didn't lay off any employees, cut any one's wages, or slash their benefits. I didn't cheat on my taxes by misrepresenting my income or eligibility for tax credits; I didn't hide my profits in offshore subsidiaries. I didn't bribe legislators into writing loopholes in the tax code to allow me to pay less. I didn't make huge amounts of money creating a financial crisis that devastated the economy. I didn't manipulate consumers with credit card offers or sell them mortgages they couldn't afford; I didn't present a false picture of my financial health in order to dupe my shareholders. I didn't take money from gullible people who trusted me and ruin their retirement or life savings. I didn't start any wars, I didn't commit a single murder, I didn't violate any one's human rights.
My state doesn't have an income tax, so I pay almost 10% in sales tax on everything I buy. I do take public transportation or walk because I can't afford a car. I share a two-bedroom apartment with 3 other girls because we can't afford higher rent. I pay medicare and social security taxes, even though both may be bankrupt by the time I qualify for them. I support local business, local artists, and local farmers, and I help decrease the amount of pesticides and herbicides running off into waterways because I buy organic. I contribute to my company's charitable fund, as well as other charities. I recycle. I try to avoid breaking the law whenever possible. I take on more student debt each year, as tuition (and class sizes) go up. I work for a living, and I support myself as best I can.
I'm not perfect; there is a lot more I can do for my community, and for the world. But I try to increase the good that I do and decrease the bad, as much as possible. If that's not enough for Fox News or Drudge or Glenn Beck, well, I guess I'm just going to have to find a way to live with their disdain.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, April 5, 2010
Day 95- Prom
Sometimes our President is a total baller. Sometimes he's even cooler.
Dear Mr. President,
High school proms are an absurd cliche, but, so help me, I loved mine. My best friends and I got dressed up, had a fancy dinner, played like we were really grown-up while we posed for photos with dates who'd be distant memories in a few years, but who were The Loves Of Our Lives at the time. Prom was not without its political drama, either. One of my friends was dating a student from another school, a transgendered boy who caused quite a stir by being the first female elected Prom King at his own school. I remember, at the time, thinking that this would seem so bigoted and backwards by the time we grew up and told our own kids; like the stories of segregation our own parents had from their time in school.
Apparently, our nation isn't quite there yet. Constance McMillen, a Mississippi high school student, was told by her school that she could not bring her girlfriend to prom. The resulting uproar, which included a legal battle and a (social and mainstream) media frenzy, ended with two proms; one for Constance and a dozen other students; one privately organized and funded by the parents of the rest of the school. In this case, while the courts acted as I feel they should have, the legal decision was not what ultimately mattered. The damage to Constance's high school experience was already done. Her school's administration had labeled her an outsider, demonstrating clearly to her peers that she has no place among them.
Plenty of people have a difficult time fitting in. High school is often unpleasant, and high school students are often unkind. The system should not actively work to make it harder to be different. This kind of bigotry has no place in our society, and certainly not in our public schools. There is no saving Constance the humiliation and alienation that will result from the small-mindedness of the adults granted responsibility over her education. Her prom has become a rite of passage that no high school student should ever have to endure. Maybe, years from now, she'll look back on it with a grim satisfaction, appreciating that, in the face of it all, she at least kept her integrity. Even if it will serve her, long term, to have discovered so early in life all the obstacles she will have to overcome and the strength required to do so, I will wish that she might have avoided such character-building. I may not be a parent, or, for that matter, much older than Constance, but I still wish that American children were shielded, a little longer, from suffering the consequences of the appalling ignorance that still exists in this country.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
High school proms are an absurd cliche, but, so help me, I loved mine. My best friends and I got dressed up, had a fancy dinner, played like we were really grown-up while we posed for photos with dates who'd be distant memories in a few years, but who were The Loves Of Our Lives at the time. Prom was not without its political drama, either. One of my friends was dating a student from another school, a transgendered boy who caused quite a stir by being the first female elected Prom King at his own school. I remember, at the time, thinking that this would seem so bigoted and backwards by the time we grew up and told our own kids; like the stories of segregation our own parents had from their time in school.
Apparently, our nation isn't quite there yet. Constance McMillen, a Mississippi high school student, was told by her school that she could not bring her girlfriend to prom. The resulting uproar, which included a legal battle and a (social and mainstream) media frenzy, ended with two proms; one for Constance and a dozen other students; one privately organized and funded by the parents of the rest of the school. In this case, while the courts acted as I feel they should have, the legal decision was not what ultimately mattered. The damage to Constance's high school experience was already done. Her school's administration had labeled her an outsider, demonstrating clearly to her peers that she has no place among them.
Plenty of people have a difficult time fitting in. High school is often unpleasant, and high school students are often unkind. The system should not actively work to make it harder to be different. This kind of bigotry has no place in our society, and certainly not in our public schools. There is no saving Constance the humiliation and alienation that will result from the small-mindedness of the adults granted responsibility over her education. Her prom has become a rite of passage that no high school student should ever have to endure. Maybe, years from now, she'll look back on it with a grim satisfaction, appreciating that, in the face of it all, she at least kept her integrity. Even if it will serve her, long term, to have discovered so early in life all the obstacles she will have to overcome and the strength required to do so, I will wish that she might have avoided such character-building. I may not be a parent, or, for that matter, much older than Constance, but I still wish that American children were shielded, a little longer, from suffering the consequences of the appalling ignorance that still exists in this country.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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