Dear Mr. President,
This week I'll be applying to join the US Boat to Gaza, (the ship you probably recall is named after your book.) It may not be the most conventional way to spend spring break, but I think that it's exactly as self-indulgent as I'm willing to be. I have no idea what the odds are of me being selected to actually go, but I suspect that I'll always regret it if I don't at least apply.
Even if I don't make it to Gaza in 2011, the discussion of the gaza blockade has taken to the sides of city buses right here in Seattle. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this. While I wholeheartedly agree with the message and support the intentions of those running the ads, I don't know how effective this is as a strategy. Is $1794 better spent on an ad campaign that might not change any minds, or would it have been better used to send help to the people affected by the policies being protested? The awareness created might be considerable, but I'm not sure it will lead to the public outcry necessary for any substantive policy change.
When I lived in DC, the metro tunnels were routinely home to issue ads. One was the picture of a baby (presumably Palestinian( wearing a pro-hamas headband, and said "This child could grow up to be a: ( ) Doctor ( ) Lawyer (x) Terrorist" (The ad can be seen here thanks to flickr user louko.) The ad made my blood boil. I have visceral reactions every time I passed by it. Targeting the blameless children of this conflict seemed especially sickening, and to have it shouting at me from every wall every day of my commute ensured that I began and ended each work day so angry I could barely speak. The very nature of advertising made discussion or argument or dissent with the people placing the ads impossible. I think my intense reaction to these ads has made me hesitant to feel any joy at seeing ads supporting my views. I understand that the very effective (and well-financed) tactics of the Israeli lobby and PR organizations need to be balanced somehow, but I don't feel great about sinking to their methods.
The most I can hope for is conversation. If it gets people talking, thinking, questioning the policies supported by their taxes (often without their knowledge) I will swallow my objections and applaud the efforts of the organization purchasing the ads. The argument that a controversial, thought-provoking ad like this one is at least better than another Macy's ad is not lost on me, either. Do you think this is a helpful or appropriate forum for foreign policy conversations?
I should probably go work on my application. I know you don't agree with the mission of the US boat to Gaza and you could certainly never support it publicly, but I hope that, even if it is only in private, you find a moment to consider your own responsibility for the people who end up on this ship and for the policies that have made such an organization necessary.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I encourage all of my readers interested (and fully aware of and prepared for the risks) to apply to the US Boat to Gaza. If you don't want to go yourself, a financial donation will help purchase supplies to deliver to the people of Gaza, as well. Other great gift ideas for those concerned with social justice can be found in Nicholas Kristof's latest New York Times column, or on etsy.com
Showing posts with label emotion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotion. Show all posts
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Day 334- The perfect storm
Dear Mr. President,
Call me crazy, but I suspect that most Americans would pay a few cents more for food if it decreases the likelihood that that food doesn't have e. coli, salmonella, or any number of potentially deadly food-borne contaminants. Personally, I'm willing to pay quite a bit more for food that (besides being generally non-toxic) is also produced with as little harm to living things and to the environment as possible. (I know, I know, that's just mind-blowingly leftist of me to say.) So when congress passed the Food Safety Act today (and you applauded them for it) I figured that this would cause little excitement from the right. Turns out I'm not getting any less naive with age, because Glenn Beck called this "criminal" and suggested that "the perfect storm" is upon us and it's time to "close the bunker door."
I have to say, as much as I appreciate Mr. Beck for giving Jon Stewart something funny to do most nights, I'm really underwhelmed by his sustained hysteria. Food safety? REALLY, Mr. Beck? REALLY? The problem, of course, is that no matter how little credibility I may believe Mr. Beck has, people do take him seriously. Lots of people. People I can't dismiss out of hand because some of them are surely related to me, and all of them probably have loved ones who think they are rational enough human beings. And when Mr. Beck uses words like "criminal" and implies that a relatively modest expansion of government oversight for massive national industries that people trust with their health, (and the health of their children,) is tantamount to a natural disaster, well, people who take him seriously are going to get upset.
Mr. Beck's language implies physical, immediate danger. Storms don't think or reason; they destroy. Storms wreak senseless havoc. Instead of engaging in honest discussion about the role of government in agriculture and food production, Mr. Beck wants his audience to panic, to react with fear and instinct and emotion. Because escaping a storm isn't about reasonable discourse it's about survival; it justifies all kinds of conduct that would not otherwise be acceptable.
I think one of the fundamental divides in this country is between those of us who are willing to turn something as benign as a food safety bill (or really any political disagreement) into a harbinger of the apocalypse, and those of us who are committed to more reasonable, saner discussion of the issues. I think that you fall into the latter category, which is why I respect you and, unfortunately, also probably why you "lose" many of the contrived news-cycle battles with the ever-hysterical right. I'm glad that you don't sink to that level, and I like to think that winning re-election won't require it of you.
Then again, I've already demonstrated a really unhealthy amount of naive good faith in people, so maybe you should break out the end days language and start invoking life-or-death stakes for every legislative battle you face. The sky is falling. The sky is falling. The perfect storm is upon us.
Or something.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Call me crazy, but I suspect that most Americans would pay a few cents more for food if it decreases the likelihood that that food doesn't have e. coli, salmonella, or any number of potentially deadly food-borne contaminants. Personally, I'm willing to pay quite a bit more for food that (besides being generally non-toxic) is also produced with as little harm to living things and to the environment as possible. (I know, I know, that's just mind-blowingly leftist of me to say.) So when congress passed the Food Safety Act today (and you applauded them for it) I figured that this would cause little excitement from the right. Turns out I'm not getting any less naive with age, because Glenn Beck called this "criminal" and suggested that "the perfect storm" is upon us and it's time to "close the bunker door."
I have to say, as much as I appreciate Mr. Beck for giving Jon Stewart something funny to do most nights, I'm really underwhelmed by his sustained hysteria. Food safety? REALLY, Mr. Beck? REALLY? The problem, of course, is that no matter how little credibility I may believe Mr. Beck has, people do take him seriously. Lots of people. People I can't dismiss out of hand because some of them are surely related to me, and all of them probably have loved ones who think they are rational enough human beings. And when Mr. Beck uses words like "criminal" and implies that a relatively modest expansion of government oversight for massive national industries that people trust with their health, (and the health of their children,) is tantamount to a natural disaster, well, people who take him seriously are going to get upset.
Mr. Beck's language implies physical, immediate danger. Storms don't think or reason; they destroy. Storms wreak senseless havoc. Instead of engaging in honest discussion about the role of government in agriculture and food production, Mr. Beck wants his audience to panic, to react with fear and instinct and emotion. Because escaping a storm isn't about reasonable discourse it's about survival; it justifies all kinds of conduct that would not otherwise be acceptable.
I think one of the fundamental divides in this country is between those of us who are willing to turn something as benign as a food safety bill (or really any political disagreement) into a harbinger of the apocalypse, and those of us who are committed to more reasonable, saner discussion of the issues. I think that you fall into the latter category, which is why I respect you and, unfortunately, also probably why you "lose" many of the contrived news-cycle battles with the ever-hysterical right. I'm glad that you don't sink to that level, and I like to think that winning re-election won't require it of you.
Then again, I've already demonstrated a really unhealthy amount of naive good faith in people, so maybe you should break out the end days language and start invoking life-or-death stakes for every legislative battle you face. The sky is falling. The sky is falling. The perfect storm is upon us.
Or something.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Day 320- Friends
Dear Mr. President,
Sometimes I find it strange the way friend have taken the place of family as the care takers in my life. I love the way they take care of me, and put up with me, and I appreciate them for it. I feel like many people my age have seen that transition from surrounding yourself with people you're related to, into surrounding ourselves with a family we get to chose. It is a strange kind of family, but, for the most part, we do OK.
My friends, besides being brilliant in their own right, tend also to have similar political values. I have a few libertarian or outright conservative friends, but I tend to avoid making new ones. I have no problem relating to people of other ages, races, or sexual orientations, but my political beliefs tend to exclude me from friendship with those who outright disagree with my political values.
I'm not a professional politician, and I'd say this polarization of beliefs would probably be much worse if I were. Avoiding those I disagree with doesn't help me, and it certainly doesn't help those whose minds I would attempt to change. When the photo-ops are over and the cameras and microphones have subsided, do you find yourself, honestly relating well to republicans? Do you have republican friends? Or do ideological divides determine your friendships, as well?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sometimes I find it strange the way friend have taken the place of family as the care takers in my life. I love the way they take care of me, and put up with me, and I appreciate them for it. I feel like many people my age have seen that transition from surrounding yourself with people you're related to, into surrounding ourselves with a family we get to chose. It is a strange kind of family, but, for the most part, we do OK.
My friends, besides being brilliant in their own right, tend also to have similar political values. I have a few libertarian or outright conservative friends, but I tend to avoid making new ones. I have no problem relating to people of other ages, races, or sexual orientations, but my political beliefs tend to exclude me from friendship with those who outright disagree with my political values.
I'm not a professional politician, and I'd say this polarization of beliefs would probably be much worse if I were. Avoiding those I disagree with doesn't help me, and it certainly doesn't help those whose minds I would attempt to change. When the photo-ops are over and the cameras and microphones have subsided, do you find yourself, honestly relating well to republicans? Do you have republican friends? Or do ideological divides determine your friendships, as well?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Day 303-Love and Sanity
Dear Mr. President,
250,000 people showed up to restore sanity in Washington DC. In Seattle, and in cities around the world, satellite rallies were held by those who couldn't make the trip to DC. I don't know if this speaks to the mood of the country or merely to the size of Jon Stewart's fan base, but it certainly lifted my spirits. I feel like, no matter the differences between my views and each of theirs, the people at those rallies are my kind of people. It's nice to know we're not nearly as alone as many of us feel.
Sanity has probably been my number one goal in life for the last year or so. I spent so much of my life feeling like I was at the whim of my impossible to predict emotions and the equally confusing way others treated me. For me this has meant avoiding intense romantic relationships. Being in love has only brought out the worst in me. Witnessing the way it has had similar destructive effects on family members and friends hadn't done much to convince me otherwise. This year, as I've worked to figure out what it is I want from the people in my life, I've started to realize how much my political passions have always played a role in grounding me. When I was going through one of the more difficult break-ups of my life, campaigning for you helped keep me sane because it kept my life in a much more reasonable perspective. Once the campaign was over, I felt completely lost and, not surprisingly, basically lost my mind. Getting back to that sense of perspective through this project has been amazingly good for me. One of the best parts of this blog has been the way it has helped me find the people in my life who value me for my political passions and who support me even when they don't agree with me. And, as I begin to define what is important to me and what is important about me, I've begun to notice more and more examples of healthy relationships among my friends. Watching one couple today, who act like their remarkable affection and respect for one another is the most normal thing in the world (much to my unending puzzlement) I even began to imagine I might one day find that for myself. It makes me think that perhaps my cynicism came not from observation and experience, but was itself shaping my perceptions in order to reaffirm a belief I'd already held.
I think many liberals feel like we're constantly surrounded by crazy people. I feel like this rally offered an opportunity for many of us to realize we're not alone, that our outsider status was a product of our own cynicism and not a reflection of reality. We're not at odds with the rest of the country; we are the majority. The majority of this country is pro-choice, pro-gay rights, pro-reasonable regulation, taxation, and social services. There is more that unites us then divides us. The system frustrates us, the corruption and stagnation that prevent our country from fulfilling its promise and potential for good. I think that being told we're not the crazy ones will be helpful and inspiring to many on the left who have struggled for years to understand our place in a national discourse dictated by FOX news. If no greater good comes from today's rally than the reassurance that we're not outsiders, that we have a place at the table, well, I think it was probably worth inconveniencing really all of Washington DC for a day or so. Who knows, if I had managed to make it to DC, I might even have found myself a boyfriend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
250,000 people showed up to restore sanity in Washington DC. In Seattle, and in cities around the world, satellite rallies were held by those who couldn't make the trip to DC. I don't know if this speaks to the mood of the country or merely to the size of Jon Stewart's fan base, but it certainly lifted my spirits. I feel like, no matter the differences between my views and each of theirs, the people at those rallies are my kind of people. It's nice to know we're not nearly as alone as many of us feel.
Sanity has probably been my number one goal in life for the last year or so. I spent so much of my life feeling like I was at the whim of my impossible to predict emotions and the equally confusing way others treated me. For me this has meant avoiding intense romantic relationships. Being in love has only brought out the worst in me. Witnessing the way it has had similar destructive effects on family members and friends hadn't done much to convince me otherwise. This year, as I've worked to figure out what it is I want from the people in my life, I've started to realize how much my political passions have always played a role in grounding me. When I was going through one of the more difficult break-ups of my life, campaigning for you helped keep me sane because it kept my life in a much more reasonable perspective. Once the campaign was over, I felt completely lost and, not surprisingly, basically lost my mind. Getting back to that sense of perspective through this project has been amazingly good for me. One of the best parts of this blog has been the way it has helped me find the people in my life who value me for my political passions and who support me even when they don't agree with me. And, as I begin to define what is important to me and what is important about me, I've begun to notice more and more examples of healthy relationships among my friends. Watching one couple today, who act like their remarkable affection and respect for one another is the most normal thing in the world (much to my unending puzzlement) I even began to imagine I might one day find that for myself. It makes me think that perhaps my cynicism came not from observation and experience, but was itself shaping my perceptions in order to reaffirm a belief I'd already held.
I think many liberals feel like we're constantly surrounded by crazy people. I feel like this rally offered an opportunity for many of us to realize we're not alone, that our outsider status was a product of our own cynicism and not a reflection of reality. We're not at odds with the rest of the country; we are the majority. The majority of this country is pro-choice, pro-gay rights, pro-reasonable regulation, taxation, and social services. There is more that unites us then divides us. The system frustrates us, the corruption and stagnation that prevent our country from fulfilling its promise and potential for good. I think that being told we're not the crazy ones will be helpful and inspiring to many on the left who have struggled for years to understand our place in a national discourse dictated by FOX news. If no greater good comes from today's rally than the reassurance that we're not outsiders, that we have a place at the table, well, I think it was probably worth inconveniencing really all of Washington DC for a day or so. Who knows, if I had managed to make it to DC, I might even have found myself a boyfriend.
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
Friday, October 15, 2010
Day 288- Lost
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight I thought about writing to you about Bill O'Reilly on The View, or a FOX news reporter claiming "all terrorists are Muslims" or maybe your own administration's heel-dragging on Don't Ask Don't Tell. I probably should write about one of these things, but I've been stuck feeling listless this week, and I just can't summon the inspiration to articulate what I think about any of these stories in an interesting way.
I'm not sure what's wrong, exactly. I seem to have lost the focus and drive that normally get me through. I don't know what it is I'm working for or what will make me happy. The suffering I read about in the news or see in other people is overwhelming. What kind of future can I hope to enjoy when so many people are going through so many bad things?
I've been prone to these moods my whole life. I call it my place of darkness. It isn't that I'm giving up, I'm just recalibrating, I think, trying to gauge what my priorities and needs and goals are, or what they should be. This whole letter-writing project was born out of a similar mood, a desire to speak to power even if my voice went unacknowledged in the cacophony of other voices. I may post these letters, copy them out and mail them to the White House, but I think we both know I'm writing for me more than I'm writing for you. I need to believe the world will get better, that we're all moving through these difficult times toward a brighter future. And maybe these letters are my way of whistling past the graveyard, the haunting fear of failure or of inconsequence that keeps me moving even when I'm not certain why or where I'm headed.
I have to just give myself permission to feel lost. I try not to let hopelessness or aimlessness take over for too long. I'm going to find my sense of purpose again, in a few days or a few weeks or a few months. For now, I think a good night's sleep is better than another hour surfing news sights for some sign of hope.
I hope you have a good weekend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight I thought about writing to you about Bill O'Reilly on The View, or a FOX news reporter claiming "all terrorists are Muslims" or maybe your own administration's heel-dragging on Don't Ask Don't Tell. I probably should write about one of these things, but I've been stuck feeling listless this week, and I just can't summon the inspiration to articulate what I think about any of these stories in an interesting way.
I'm not sure what's wrong, exactly. I seem to have lost the focus and drive that normally get me through. I don't know what it is I'm working for or what will make me happy. The suffering I read about in the news or see in other people is overwhelming. What kind of future can I hope to enjoy when so many people are going through so many bad things?
I've been prone to these moods my whole life. I call it my place of darkness. It isn't that I'm giving up, I'm just recalibrating, I think, trying to gauge what my priorities and needs and goals are, or what they should be. This whole letter-writing project was born out of a similar mood, a desire to speak to power even if my voice went unacknowledged in the cacophony of other voices. I may post these letters, copy them out and mail them to the White House, but I think we both know I'm writing for me more than I'm writing for you. I need to believe the world will get better, that we're all moving through these difficult times toward a brighter future. And maybe these letters are my way of whistling past the graveyard, the haunting fear of failure or of inconsequence that keeps me moving even when I'm not certain why or where I'm headed.
I have to just give myself permission to feel lost. I try not to let hopelessness or aimlessness take over for too long. I'm going to find my sense of purpose again, in a few days or a few weeks or a few months. For now, I think a good night's sleep is better than another hour surfing news sights for some sign of hope.
I hope you have a good weekend.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Day 276- Roads taken and otherwise
Dear Mr. President,
I'm having one of those weeks where everything in my life is up for questioning. Am I happy? Am I doing the right thing? Am I making the right choices? What are my goals? Maybe it's back-to-school time getting to me, or the overabundance of sentimental movies I've been watching lately. Facing this general uncertainty always inclines me to look back, to evaluate the decision and compromises and mistakes I've made in the past. (It also leads to a lot of baking.) I see old boyfriends and high school classmates getting married, settling down, having children. Sometimes I worry that kind of normal adulthood is just never going to appeal to me. People my age want careers, houses, cars, families. I want something much less tangible. Perhaps my constant need to question the path I'm walking has held me back, slowing my journey and putting me through more emotional turmoil than otherwise necessary. I suspect, however, that I'm just built this way, there's nothing to be done about it.
This letter isn't particularly political. I know people with Real Problems- worries over where their next meal, the new roof, the health insurance, the unemployment benefits, the job or the right to marry their partner will come from, if it comes at all. I'm lucky to be wallowing in a state of mild existential crisis. It will surely pass. And while I may wish I could go back and do a number of things differently, it is far more important to focus on my current situation and try to steer in a better direction. I want to find happiness, and I think that a big part of that, for me, is feeling good about what I do, and that requires a certain amount of constant questioning.
Do you find yourself doing the same thing with your own goals? I can't imagine that you have the luxury of being anywhere near as self-reflective as my lack of significance affords me. The importance of your job simply wouldn't permit it. But surely you have to take stock of things, occasionally, to measure your progress and question your course. Especially given the grim forecast for the midterms and the recent media narrative, I'd imagine you must be seriously considering your Presidency's goals and strategies. While I'm sure that conventional wisdom says you ought to be moving to the center, pandering to the vocal movement of intractable conservatism, I hope that you refuse to listen to it. You can't take back the promises you made in the campaign, or lower expectations before you took office. The only thing left to do is figure out a way to keep those promises and rise to those expectations- something that an ostensibly safe veer toward the center will never allow you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I'm having one of those weeks where everything in my life is up for questioning. Am I happy? Am I doing the right thing? Am I making the right choices? What are my goals? Maybe it's back-to-school time getting to me, or the overabundance of sentimental movies I've been watching lately. Facing this general uncertainty always inclines me to look back, to evaluate the decision and compromises and mistakes I've made in the past. (It also leads to a lot of baking.) I see old boyfriends and high school classmates getting married, settling down, having children. Sometimes I worry that kind of normal adulthood is just never going to appeal to me. People my age want careers, houses, cars, families. I want something much less tangible. Perhaps my constant need to question the path I'm walking has held me back, slowing my journey and putting me through more emotional turmoil than otherwise necessary. I suspect, however, that I'm just built this way, there's nothing to be done about it.
This letter isn't particularly political. I know people with Real Problems- worries over where their next meal, the new roof, the health insurance, the unemployment benefits, the job or the right to marry their partner will come from, if it comes at all. I'm lucky to be wallowing in a state of mild existential crisis. It will surely pass. And while I may wish I could go back and do a number of things differently, it is far more important to focus on my current situation and try to steer in a better direction. I want to find happiness, and I think that a big part of that, for me, is feeling good about what I do, and that requires a certain amount of constant questioning.
Do you find yourself doing the same thing with your own goals? I can't imagine that you have the luxury of being anywhere near as self-reflective as my lack of significance affords me. The importance of your job simply wouldn't permit it. But surely you have to take stock of things, occasionally, to measure your progress and question your course. Especially given the grim forecast for the midterms and the recent media narrative, I'd imagine you must be seriously considering your Presidency's goals and strategies. While I'm sure that conventional wisdom says you ought to be moving to the center, pandering to the vocal movement of intractable conservatism, I hope that you refuse to listen to it. You can't take back the promises you made in the campaign, or lower expectations before you took office. The only thing left to do is figure out a way to keep those promises and rise to those expectations- something that an ostensibly safe veer toward the center will never allow you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Day 252-Hype
Dear Mr. President,
After I posted yesterday's letter I received several disheartening responses. "Is this meant to be serious? " one reader asked, "That President Obama could influence these people to reconsider their actions? You must understand that a direct statement from him on this gives these people the profile they so desperately crave to do what they do in front of the largest possible audience." This morning you gave an interview in which you clearly expressed your disapproval for the planned event, without elvating your opponent. Thank you for this. Such a balance is a difficult one to strike and, given the volatility of the situation, I thought your words were well chosen. I don't know if you changed the man's mind or if his better nature is stronger than I give it credit for. I don't think I was off base yesterday in implying that you had the ability to appeal to this man's humanity, or that, at the very least, it was worth a try.
Since he has announced the suspension of the event, much discussion by the media has focused on the accusations that this story was blown out of proportion by the media. I considered the well-made point of my cynical reader's comment about the risk of granting this man's clear desire for attention, but I stand by what I wrote and what I asked of you. For one thing, yesterday was several weeks past the point of hushing this story up and hoping no one would notice. The outraged protests set off by the Danish cartoons several years back came months after the cartoons had been published- when apologies were basically useless. Had this "Koran Burning Day" come to light months later, it would have caused considerably more uproar. If 50 people had burned Qur'ans and no one had noticed, I concede that no actual harm would have resulted in the symbolic action. But, by the time I heard about the event it was on CNN; the damage was pretty much done. I'm glad that things seemed to have calmed down (and also that Imam Rauf is refusing to negotiate the location of Park 51,) and I believe much of that credit goes to your leadership.
I don't know the best way to handle these stories in general. On one hand, it does elevate crazy people to give them national news coverage. On the other hand, the media didn't say anything untruthful, and it was part of a larger trend of anti-Islam incidents in the last few weeks. I can see why it was relevant to the news. It also gave Americans a chance to publicly demonstrate our opposition to this behavior, and for people of all faiths to intervene on behalf of Muslims- a symbolism far more powerful than the most heartfelt apology might have sounded should the story have been told after the fact. Consider, also, that while this man's church may have only had 50 members, the "International Koran Burning Day" facebook page now has 15,000 fans. That may be nothing compared to the group opposing it, which has 10 times as many, but it shows that these 50 people were not acting alone. (Especially considering the number of people who feel this way and can't work facebook, which can't be inconsiderable.) This small man and his small band of followers had the support many more Americans who agreed with them. Taking this chance to show the world that they don't speak for all Americans, especially not our government, was absolutely the right thing to do. Thank you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
After I posted yesterday's letter I received several disheartening responses. "Is this meant to be serious? " one reader asked, "That President Obama could influence these people to reconsider their actions? You must understand that a direct statement from him on this gives these people the profile they so desperately crave to do what they do in front of the largest possible audience." This morning you gave an interview in which you clearly expressed your disapproval for the planned event, without elvating your opponent. Thank you for this. Such a balance is a difficult one to strike and, given the volatility of the situation, I thought your words were well chosen. I don't know if you changed the man's mind or if his better nature is stronger than I give it credit for. I don't think I was off base yesterday in implying that you had the ability to appeal to this man's humanity, or that, at the very least, it was worth a try.
Since he has announced the suspension of the event, much discussion by the media has focused on the accusations that this story was blown out of proportion by the media. I considered the well-made point of my cynical reader's comment about the risk of granting this man's clear desire for attention, but I stand by what I wrote and what I asked of you. For one thing, yesterday was several weeks past the point of hushing this story up and hoping no one would notice. The outraged protests set off by the Danish cartoons several years back came months after the cartoons had been published- when apologies were basically useless. Had this "Koran Burning Day" come to light months later, it would have caused considerably more uproar. If 50 people had burned Qur'ans and no one had noticed, I concede that no actual harm would have resulted in the symbolic action. But, by the time I heard about the event it was on CNN; the damage was pretty much done. I'm glad that things seemed to have calmed down (and also that Imam Rauf is refusing to negotiate the location of Park 51,) and I believe much of that credit goes to your leadership.
I don't know the best way to handle these stories in general. On one hand, it does elevate crazy people to give them national news coverage. On the other hand, the media didn't say anything untruthful, and it was part of a larger trend of anti-Islam incidents in the last few weeks. I can see why it was relevant to the news. It also gave Americans a chance to publicly demonstrate our opposition to this behavior, and for people of all faiths to intervene on behalf of Muslims- a symbolism far more powerful than the most heartfelt apology might have sounded should the story have been told after the fact. Consider, also, that while this man's church may have only had 50 members, the "International Koran Burning Day" facebook page now has 15,000 fans. That may be nothing compared to the group opposing it, which has 10 times as many, but it shows that these 50 people were not acting alone. (Especially considering the number of people who feel this way and can't work facebook, which can't be inconsiderable.) This small man and his small band of followers had the support many more Americans who agreed with them. Taking this chance to show the world that they don't speak for all Americans, especially not our government, was absolutely the right thing to do. Thank you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 166- All the ways we say goodbye
Dear Mr. President,
I saw your speech about the oil spill, and I do know that it is important and I do want to comment on it. But tonight I can't seem to get past the overwhelming sadness of my friend's impeding departure to think about anything else. I know that I'll be fine, and that she'll be fine, and that the work she'll do with the Peace Corps will be exciting and fulfilling. I know these things, intellectually, but emotionally all I know is that my best friend is leaving and I'm going to be left behind while she moves on to a new part of her life. Foolish, right? I can't explain or excuse it. I've been watching our other friends, taking cues from the ways they express their own sadness, and coming to a much clearer understanding that we all manage these types of challenges differently. So, forgive me for taking it personally, but reading yet another op-ed from Maureen Dowd about their being a "right" way to respond to the Oil spill and you not finding it was a bit exasperating.
I think i would not be so irritated by this, if Dowd were the only one saying it. Instead, it seems like every talking head in the media, save those on the White House payroll, are leaping at the chance to suggest that you say or feel or pretend some emotion that they feel is the "right" response. The truth is, nothing is going to make us feel better, short of the spill stopping and the gulf being cleaned up and us all getting to live the way we've always lived. But that isn't going to happen. Nothing is going to make us feel better, so I hope that the White House isn't wasting too much time trying to pin down the perfect tone. Maybe every one in the media could stop worrying about how you sound and go back to writing about actual news. Every one responds differently to tragedy, and any one who thinks you're not serious about handling this because your response doesn't have the allegedly correct tone is simply not going to be convinced by anything.
The Republican response to this, which seems to be, "Don't use this massive and obvious lesson about the dangers of our consumption habits to try and change our consumption habits," is equally infuriating. I would rather have a tragedy be exploited, if it led to honestly corrective measures that would prevent it from happening again. I think that learning from our mistakes ought to be one of those things that transcends party or ideology, and if the Republicans have an honest disagreement over the cause of this spill or the best course of preventative action, they should feel free to propose it. Simply disagreeing with any proposed action because it is based on a tragically hard lesson is not leadership.
I'm so sad, in such a selfish way, tonight, that I suppose my opinion can't matter much on this subject. The only thing I know for sure is that there is no correct way to feel about this, and there is no way for the President to feel that will solve this problem. I wish Maureen Dowd would find something else to write about, and I hope that people wake up and realize how much we're all to blame for this tragedy. For now, I'm just going to say that I think you're doing the best you can, and, even if it's a long way from good enough, I'm grateful that some one is taking care of the hard things, while I am wrapped up in my own, considerably smaller, world.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I saw your speech about the oil spill, and I do know that it is important and I do want to comment on it. But tonight I can't seem to get past the overwhelming sadness of my friend's impeding departure to think about anything else. I know that I'll be fine, and that she'll be fine, and that the work she'll do with the Peace Corps will be exciting and fulfilling. I know these things, intellectually, but emotionally all I know is that my best friend is leaving and I'm going to be left behind while she moves on to a new part of her life. Foolish, right? I can't explain or excuse it. I've been watching our other friends, taking cues from the ways they express their own sadness, and coming to a much clearer understanding that we all manage these types of challenges differently. So, forgive me for taking it personally, but reading yet another op-ed from Maureen Dowd about their being a "right" way to respond to the Oil spill and you not finding it was a bit exasperating.
I think i would not be so irritated by this, if Dowd were the only one saying it. Instead, it seems like every talking head in the media, save those on the White House payroll, are leaping at the chance to suggest that you say or feel or pretend some emotion that they feel is the "right" response. The truth is, nothing is going to make us feel better, short of the spill stopping and the gulf being cleaned up and us all getting to live the way we've always lived. But that isn't going to happen. Nothing is going to make us feel better, so I hope that the White House isn't wasting too much time trying to pin down the perfect tone. Maybe every one in the media could stop worrying about how you sound and go back to writing about actual news. Every one responds differently to tragedy, and any one who thinks you're not serious about handling this because your response doesn't have the allegedly correct tone is simply not going to be convinced by anything.
The Republican response to this, which seems to be, "Don't use this massive and obvious lesson about the dangers of our consumption habits to try and change our consumption habits," is equally infuriating. I would rather have a tragedy be exploited, if it led to honestly corrective measures that would prevent it from happening again. I think that learning from our mistakes ought to be one of those things that transcends party or ideology, and if the Republicans have an honest disagreement over the cause of this spill or the best course of preventative action, they should feel free to propose it. Simply disagreeing with any proposed action because it is based on a tragically hard lesson is not leadership.
I'm so sad, in such a selfish way, tonight, that I suppose my opinion can't matter much on this subject. The only thing I know for sure is that there is no correct way to feel about this, and there is no way for the President to feel that will solve this problem. I wish Maureen Dowd would find something else to write about, and I hope that people wake up and realize how much we're all to blame for this tragedy. For now, I'm just going to say that I think you're doing the best you can, and, even if it's a long way from good enough, I'm grateful that some one is taking care of the hard things, while I am wrapped up in my own, considerably smaller, world.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, June 7, 2010
Day 158- Helen Thomas
Dear Mr. President,
Helen Thomas's remarks were offensive to many people. I don't think there is any one, including Ms. Thomas, who would deny that. Her remarks have inspired more forceful outrage from your administration than the 9 dead civillians on board the Mavi Marmara. I can't speak for any one else, but that offends me, deeply. What Helen said, while upsetting, didn't kill any one, didn't destroy families or cut short the life of an American teenager. Her words didn't cost any one an eye, didn't shed a single drop of blood. Yet, while the 9 innocent dead managed to summon your dismay and regret, her non-lethal words were called reprehensible.
Murder is reprehensible. The prolonged suffering and starvation of the people of Gaza is reprehensible. And I would have no problem with your administration calling her words reprehensible, as well, if you had managed the same level of outrage after the flotilla attack. Her career, a long and distinguished one that inspired a generation of women in journalism, is now over. I don't think that what she said was right, I don't think that what she said was fair, but I know, for sure, that no one died as a result.
I know these last few weeks have been spent trying to strike the right emotional note with the American public over the oil spill, to some how demonstrate your emotional response is proportional to this tragedy. The hypocrisy of the reaction with regards to Ms. Thomas and to Gaza, the anger stirred over words contrasted with the mild dismay over injury, suffering, and death is, in my opinion, a much more problematic demonstration of how out of step your administration is with the human cost of your policies.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Helen Thomas's remarks were offensive to many people. I don't think there is any one, including Ms. Thomas, who would deny that. Her remarks have inspired more forceful outrage from your administration than the 9 dead civillians on board the Mavi Marmara. I can't speak for any one else, but that offends me, deeply. What Helen said, while upsetting, didn't kill any one, didn't destroy families or cut short the life of an American teenager. Her words didn't cost any one an eye, didn't shed a single drop of blood. Yet, while the 9 innocent dead managed to summon your dismay and regret, her non-lethal words were called reprehensible.
Murder is reprehensible. The prolonged suffering and starvation of the people of Gaza is reprehensible. And I would have no problem with your administration calling her words reprehensible, as well, if you had managed the same level of outrage after the flotilla attack. Her career, a long and distinguished one that inspired a generation of women in journalism, is now over. I don't think that what she said was right, I don't think that what she said was fair, but I know, for sure, that no one died as a result.
I know these last few weeks have been spent trying to strike the right emotional note with the American public over the oil spill, to some how demonstrate your emotional response is proportional to this tragedy. The hypocrisy of the reaction with regards to Ms. Thomas and to Gaza, the anger stirred over words contrasted with the mild dismay over injury, suffering, and death is, in my opinion, a much more problematic demonstration of how out of step your administration is with the human cost of your policies.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Day 149- No drama
Dear Mr. President,
"President Spock," "No Drama Obama," the list of ways the media has found to call you calm, as either an insult or a compliment, seems to get more creative all the timeMaureen Dowd writes today about the paternal aspect of the presidency, something she feels you are failing at. A President, apparently, must demonstrate the emotional state of the nation to show that he understands how people feel. I don't often find myself in such strong disagreement with Ms. Dowd. I don't need you to show me your emotional response to the oil spill in order to feel better about my own; I believe that you have emotions, just like me, and that, just like me, you decide who sees how you feel and who sees how you think. I don't believe that the citizens of this country are entitled to see every aspect of your personality; we ought to hold you accountable for how well you do your job, not how well you demonstrate that you feel the "right" way about every issue. I don't need to see you react the same way I do.
I think this urge we have, to feel that we know our leaders on a personal level, manifested in votes based on who we'd rather have a beer with, or in a need to see ourselves and our lifestyles reflected in those of our elected officials, is not always the surest compass to find the best qualified leaders. I'm an emotional person. I feel things violently, obsessively, consumingly. I do not appreciate this about myself, and think that, especially in matters of leadership and crisis management, it can be considered more a weakness than a strength. I look for a leader who can calmly, thoughtfully, rationally make decisions based on information and guided by a sense of what the best choices will be. I didn't vote for you because I thought you'd cry at things that make me cry or scream at things that make me want to scream; I voted for you because I hoped that you would, in the face of these things, have more productive solutions than my tears.
This is not to imply, as Ms. Dowd does, that you lack emotional depth. I think that your emotional reactions are kept private, as most of us prefer ours to be. I am often moved by displays of emotion by politicians; that does not mean I have to see such displays to know they exist. Asking for such demonstrations from our elected officials is only asking to be lied to. Our need to feel better, to be comforted by the parroting of our responses by others, does not help us overcome the challenges of our times. As much as I might like to know you as a person, to feel that we are friends and that you are just like me, it would do me no practical good. I don't believe that any one who hears the news from the gulf, or who has seen the terrible images, especially some one who must take responsibility for fixing it, can be unaffected. But your feelings are your own, Mr. President, and, while I clearly do not speak for Ms. Dowd and may not speak for the majority of American voters, I, personally, do not need you to share them in order to satisfy my own desire to see my own personality reflected in my President's.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
"President Spock," "No Drama Obama," the list of ways the media has found to call you calm, as either an insult or a compliment, seems to get more creative all the timeMaureen Dowd writes today about the paternal aspect of the presidency, something she feels you are failing at. A President, apparently, must demonstrate the emotional state of the nation to show that he understands how people feel. I don't often find myself in such strong disagreement with Ms. Dowd. I don't need you to show me your emotional response to the oil spill in order to feel better about my own; I believe that you have emotions, just like me, and that, just like me, you decide who sees how you feel and who sees how you think. I don't believe that the citizens of this country are entitled to see every aspect of your personality; we ought to hold you accountable for how well you do your job, not how well you demonstrate that you feel the "right" way about every issue. I don't need to see you react the same way I do.
I think this urge we have, to feel that we know our leaders on a personal level, manifested in votes based on who we'd rather have a beer with, or in a need to see ourselves and our lifestyles reflected in those of our elected officials, is not always the surest compass to find the best qualified leaders. I'm an emotional person. I feel things violently, obsessively, consumingly. I do not appreciate this about myself, and think that, especially in matters of leadership and crisis management, it can be considered more a weakness than a strength. I look for a leader who can calmly, thoughtfully, rationally make decisions based on information and guided by a sense of what the best choices will be. I didn't vote for you because I thought you'd cry at things that make me cry or scream at things that make me want to scream; I voted for you because I hoped that you would, in the face of these things, have more productive solutions than my tears.
This is not to imply, as Ms. Dowd does, that you lack emotional depth. I think that your emotional reactions are kept private, as most of us prefer ours to be. I am often moved by displays of emotion by politicians; that does not mean I have to see such displays to know they exist. Asking for such demonstrations from our elected officials is only asking to be lied to. Our need to feel better, to be comforted by the parroting of our responses by others, does not help us overcome the challenges of our times. As much as I might like to know you as a person, to feel that we are friends and that you are just like me, it would do me no practical good. I don't believe that any one who hears the news from the gulf, or who has seen the terrible images, especially some one who must take responsibility for fixing it, can be unaffected. But your feelings are your own, Mr. President, and, while I clearly do not speak for Ms. Dowd and may not speak for the majority of American voters, I, personally, do not need you to share them in order to satisfy my own desire to see my own personality reflected in my President's.
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
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