Dear Mr. President,
After 365 letters I suppose I should be running out of things to say. Is a year enough distance to gain any perspective on all that has changed and all that still waits to? Tonight I hoped to make sense of it all; the personal and the political, the minutiae, the mundane, the profound, all of the things I've written about this year. As I look back through this year of letters, of one-sided conversations about issues and actions that defined 2010, I don't have any clue what it all means. I am still tired, still frustrated, still impatient with the progress we've made and the way you govern. But I'm still more like the girl I was in November 2008- stone sober and still too drunk off of election night euphoria- than I ever thought I could be. For all of the disappointments and frustration I have been so proud this year to call you my President. I don't imagine your job is easy, nor do I think I could do it better myself. I am often wrong. I am often too emotional. I use far too many commas.
For all of my shortcomings, I am still a voter and still a citizen and still, I believe, entitled to tell you what I think. Personally, I feel that the great tragedy of the disconnect between the people and our government in this country is not the disparity of money or even power but the way we converse. You do not speak or listen to people like me. When you do talk to me it is in form letters and speeches and talking points- language so polished as to be devoid of any real meaning. We do not have frank conversations. We do not hear one another. I listen to your Sunday addresses, your press conferences and your speeches and all I can say I know for sure is what you want me to think or feel, not what you actually think or feel. Perhaps the most important domestic issue is what you called the deficit of trust. This year has shown me, more clearly than I ever might have seen otherwise, how little trust our government has in the people or we have in it and how damaging this deficit is to all involved.
Deep down I still think that you are well-intentioned. If your caution and moderation do not always sit well with my hot head or bleeding heart, I can accept that you at least believe you are doing the right thing. That is what prompted me to vote for you, to phone bank for you, to write you 365 letters and to hope that I might cast my ballot in 2012 for you, again. Beyond your good intentions, I believe that you are capable of great things, that, should you overcome your fear and find the courage to make really the necessary, difficult decisions that will save this country from some of our worst tendencies, you will be re-elected and likely remembered well. I would not say that I'm a person with any tremendous amount of faith in anything, but I do have faith in you. 2010 didn't change that, and I hope to say the same about 2011.
Happy New Year, Mr. President. Good Luck.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
To all of my awesome readers:
Thank you so much for all of your support this year. I will have a much more articulate and coherent reflective piece in the coming days, as well as some suggestions for reading, a bonus letter to President Obama from a guest blogger and information about the Espresso book I'll be making. I hope you all have a fun and safe New Year's Eve! See you in 2011!
Showing posts with label values. Show all posts
Showing posts with label values. Show all posts
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Day 362- Two years later
Dear Mr. President,
It's been two years since Operation Cast Lead, since the Gaza war, since the brutal asymmetrical violence that left thousands dead, injured or homeless. This will likely be my last letter to you about Gaza, at least for 2010. I haven't heard any practical solutions for the people of Gaza from your administration, nor have I heard much in the way of insistence that Israel find an alternative to the utterly unlivable status quo. The peace talks that have now fallen apart, at their most ambitious, their most hopeful, did not include a framework for Gaza. The people of Gaza cannot continue living as they have been, they cannot be expected to raise yet another generation to call a prison camp home. Two years of endless stalemate haven't made Israel safer and they haven't made Gaza any more livable.
I wonder if you have asked yourself how this ends. How it will look when the war is finally over and the lines on the map are final. When every one has a flag and a seat at the UN. What will that entail? What will it look like, how will it be fair, what role will we play? Most importantly- how do we get there? If we already know these things, why aren't we doing it? It will be hard. People will be upset, compromise will not be easy. Friends and allies will be offended and alienated and you will be called any number of nasty names for your trouble. But it has to be done. Progress has to be made. The situation cannot stand.
Looking into 2011 and 2012, I know that re-election will overshadow any foreign policy goals that might not play well on FOX news. I wonder what you would do if no one were watching, if what they said didn't matter, if all the voices were silenced and you had only your own conscience to answer to. At some point, it isn't about the past, it isn't about politics, it isn't even about racism, it's just people; people killing, hurting, starving, oppressing other people and the people who look the other way and let it happen.
I don't want to be one of those people. I don't believe that you do, either.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
It's been two years since Operation Cast Lead, since the Gaza war, since the brutal asymmetrical violence that left thousands dead, injured or homeless. This will likely be my last letter to you about Gaza, at least for 2010. I haven't heard any practical solutions for the people of Gaza from your administration, nor have I heard much in the way of insistence that Israel find an alternative to the utterly unlivable status quo. The peace talks that have now fallen apart, at their most ambitious, their most hopeful, did not include a framework for Gaza. The people of Gaza cannot continue living as they have been, they cannot be expected to raise yet another generation to call a prison camp home. Two years of endless stalemate haven't made Israel safer and they haven't made Gaza any more livable.
I wonder if you have asked yourself how this ends. How it will look when the war is finally over and the lines on the map are final. When every one has a flag and a seat at the UN. What will that entail? What will it look like, how will it be fair, what role will we play? Most importantly- how do we get there? If we already know these things, why aren't we doing it? It will be hard. People will be upset, compromise will not be easy. Friends and allies will be offended and alienated and you will be called any number of nasty names for your trouble. But it has to be done. Progress has to be made. The situation cannot stand.
Looking into 2011 and 2012, I know that re-election will overshadow any foreign policy goals that might not play well on FOX news. I wonder what you would do if no one were watching, if what they said didn't matter, if all the voices were silenced and you had only your own conscience to answer to. At some point, it isn't about the past, it isn't about politics, it isn't even about racism, it's just people; people killing, hurting, starving, oppressing other people and the people who look the other way and let it happen.
I don't want to be one of those people. I don't believe that you do, either.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, December 27, 2010
Day 361- You've been randomly selected for additional screening at the back of the bus.
Dear Mr. President,
A few months ago, in the rapid decline of my optimism about internet dating, I agreed to go on one last date with a man from the dating site I'd been using. One last chance, I told myself, and then I could safely give up this endless series of awkward, uncomfortable encounters and sulk, self-satisfied, assured of the hopelessness of dating and single men in general. When I arrived at the coffee shop at the appointed time I was already convinced that this encounter would be no different than the last, preparing already the excuses I would make after an hour or, if I could manage, even less. Ten minutes later, I might have been laughing at the irony of this, had I not been too busy attempting to scrape my jaw off of the floor and work the dumbstruck expression off of my face. My date was not only black americano-drinking, charming and easy to talk to, he was clearly intelligent, compassionate, adventurous and funny. (It didn't hurt that he was heart-breakingly, out-of-my-league-by-miles good-looking either.) We talked for hours. Nothing romantic may have come from this date, but we stayed friends, passing e-mails and brief comments on the latest news. He suggested a number of topics for my letters to you, and helped me better understand a few stories I didn't fully grasp. Our friendship since has been casual, but it certainly helped convince me not to completely give up on the idea of meeting men online.
Today my friend, returning from a trip abroad to visit family, was unreasonably held up in an American airport by security. I don't know the details of this, what it entailed or how he finally managed to get on a connection to come back home. Unfortunately, because my friend is also Arab, I know that this would not have happened to him if he had a different last name or a different skin color. The whole situation makes me sickeningly, blindingly angry. When I expressed this to others I heard more stories of friends or relatives or coworkers or friends of friends being held up in the absurd, racist so-called security system in American airports. I remembered walking through Israeli checkpoints, the separate lines for me and for my Palestinian friends and being so naively grateful that such a thing would never happen in MY country. All day I've been thinking about airports, how standing in line to get through security with my white face, American passport and generically WASP-y name while my Arab and Muslim (or, really just sufficiently brown-skinned) friends will be "randomly" given additional screening and I keep thinking of the same metaphor. I'm sitting on a bus in Alabama watching silently as they are made to file past me to the back.
You've experienced first-hand what it is to be thought of as Muslim and/or Arab in this country. Even as President you've seen the ugly, racist way some in this country still view some one with your skin color, your name, or the religion falsely ascribed to be your own. You've heard the crazy woman screeching at John McCain "he's an Arab!", the state representatives demanding to see your birth certificate, the 20% of Americans who think you practice Islam. If any privileged outsider is able to understand the treatment Arab-Americans and American Muslims have experienced in airports since 9/11 I would think that you might be. And while the TSA monopoly on air travel and the necessity of covering great distances quickly may prevent a Montgomery bus-style boycott of airplanes, I suspect that eventually the American people will not stand to see our friends and neighbors and loved ones treated this way in the name of our own safety.
Life isn't safe. I don't feel safer knowing that my friend is being profiled, harassed, or even inconvenienced solely because of his race. I feel sick about it. My patriotism is not a brittle, small thing, but it is based on the principles this country is supposed to stand for even in the face of fear. How am I supposed to love my country, to feel pride in it, knowing that these principles can be so easily betrayed by those sworn to defend them?
My friend, who has, in the course of our political conversations, proven himself to be calmer and more even-tempered than me on many issues, said to me today that "being Arabic and in a US airport may as well be a crime." I don't know what he's feeling or how he'll respond to this incident but I am outraged that he has to feel it, respond to it at all. And it isn't just my friend, it isn't just this airport or this incident. This is happening right now, it has been happening for too long and it will continue to happen until enough people with enough power are brave enough to stand up and say it isn't right, it isn't American and it isn't keeping us safe.
Until we stop boarding the bus and say we'll be walking to work for the foreseeable future, thank you very much.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
A few months ago, in the rapid decline of my optimism about internet dating, I agreed to go on one last date with a man from the dating site I'd been using. One last chance, I told myself, and then I could safely give up this endless series of awkward, uncomfortable encounters and sulk, self-satisfied, assured of the hopelessness of dating and single men in general. When I arrived at the coffee shop at the appointed time I was already convinced that this encounter would be no different than the last, preparing already the excuses I would make after an hour or, if I could manage, even less. Ten minutes later, I might have been laughing at the irony of this, had I not been too busy attempting to scrape my jaw off of the floor and work the dumbstruck expression off of my face. My date was not only black americano-drinking, charming and easy to talk to, he was clearly intelligent, compassionate, adventurous and funny. (It didn't hurt that he was heart-breakingly, out-of-my-league-by-miles good-looking either.) We talked for hours. Nothing romantic may have come from this date, but we stayed friends, passing e-mails and brief comments on the latest news. He suggested a number of topics for my letters to you, and helped me better understand a few stories I didn't fully grasp. Our friendship since has been casual, but it certainly helped convince me not to completely give up on the idea of meeting men online.
Today my friend, returning from a trip abroad to visit family, was unreasonably held up in an American airport by security. I don't know the details of this, what it entailed or how he finally managed to get on a connection to come back home. Unfortunately, because my friend is also Arab, I know that this would not have happened to him if he had a different last name or a different skin color. The whole situation makes me sickeningly, blindingly angry. When I expressed this to others I heard more stories of friends or relatives or coworkers or friends of friends being held up in the absurd, racist so-called security system in American airports. I remembered walking through Israeli checkpoints, the separate lines for me and for my Palestinian friends and being so naively grateful that such a thing would never happen in MY country. All day I've been thinking about airports, how standing in line to get through security with my white face, American passport and generically WASP-y name while my Arab and Muslim (or, really just sufficiently brown-skinned) friends will be "randomly" given additional screening and I keep thinking of the same metaphor. I'm sitting on a bus in Alabama watching silently as they are made to file past me to the back.
You've experienced first-hand what it is to be thought of as Muslim and/or Arab in this country. Even as President you've seen the ugly, racist way some in this country still view some one with your skin color, your name, or the religion falsely ascribed to be your own. You've heard the crazy woman screeching at John McCain "he's an Arab!", the state representatives demanding to see your birth certificate, the 20% of Americans who think you practice Islam. If any privileged outsider is able to understand the treatment Arab-Americans and American Muslims have experienced in airports since 9/11 I would think that you might be. And while the TSA monopoly on air travel and the necessity of covering great distances quickly may prevent a Montgomery bus-style boycott of airplanes, I suspect that eventually the American people will not stand to see our friends and neighbors and loved ones treated this way in the name of our own safety.
Life isn't safe. I don't feel safer knowing that my friend is being profiled, harassed, or even inconvenienced solely because of his race. I feel sick about it. My patriotism is not a brittle, small thing, but it is based on the principles this country is supposed to stand for even in the face of fear. How am I supposed to love my country, to feel pride in it, knowing that these principles can be so easily betrayed by those sworn to defend them?
My friend, who has, in the course of our political conversations, proven himself to be calmer and more even-tempered than me on many issues, said to me today that "being Arabic and in a US airport may as well be a crime." I don't know what he's feeling or how he'll respond to this incident but I am outraged that he has to feel it, respond to it at all. And it isn't just my friend, it isn't just this airport or this incident. This is happening right now, it has been happening for too long and it will continue to happen until enough people with enough power are brave enough to stand up and say it isn't right, it isn't American and it isn't keeping us safe.
Until we stop boarding the bus and say we'll be walking to work for the foreseeable future, thank you very much.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Day 353- Spring Break!
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
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
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Day 352- The next battle
I just want to take a moment, before I start praising the efforts of those who have been fighting for the civil rights of men and women in the armed forces, to call out those who voted against those rights today, or who decided not to vote at all.
The following Senators:
Alexander (R-TN), Nay
Barrasso (R-WY), Nay
Bennett (R-UT), Nay
Bond (R-MO), Nay
Brownback (R-KS), Nay
Bunning (R-KY), Not Voting
Burr (R-NC), Nay
Chambliss (R-GA), Nay
Coburn (R-OK), Nay
Cochran (R-MS), Nay
Corker (R-TN), Nay
Cornyn (R-TX), Nay
Crapo (R-ID), Nay
DeMint (R-SC), Nay
Ensign (R-NV), Nay
Enzi (R-WY), Nay
Graham (R-SC), Nay
Grassley (R-IA), Nay
Gregg (R-NH), Not Voting
Hatch (R-UT), Not Voting
Hutchison (R-TX), Nay
Inhofe (R-OK), Nay
Isakson (R-GA), Nay
Johanns (R-NE), Nay
Kyl (R-AZ), Nay
LeMieux (R-FL), Nay
Lugar (R-IN), Nay
Manchin (D-WV), Not Voting
McCain (R-AZ), Nay
McConnell (R-KY), Nay
Risch (R-ID), Nay
Roberts (R-KS), Nay
Sessions (R-AL), Nay
Shelby (R-AL), Nay
Thune (R-SD), Nay
Vitter (R-LA), Nay
Wicker (R-MS), Nay
are all cowards. The men and women on this list ought to be ashamed of themselves and their votes today. If any of my readers hail from the states represented by these Senators, I encourage you to e-mail them to express your displeasure at the way they have represented you and the other citizens of your state. It doesn't matter that the motion passed, that history has passed by these aging bigots and their old world views. These men and women, at least today, did not support American troops the way they deserve to be supported.
Dear Mr. President,
I was at work today when my phone alerted me to a new e-mail from you. It began:
I think this is my favorite way to receive such good news. Not to live up to your accusation of the left being totally impossible to please or anything, but I can't help fixating on the idea that troops who are risking their lives to serve our country can't marry the people they love. We'll let them serve- now even openly- but we won't let them marry their partners. I know, I know, you and congress need a minute to breathe, to recover from this long-overdue fight, but this is too important to rest. It is unfathomable to ask gay and lesbian Americans to serve a country that still legally treats them as second-class citizens.
So while you're celebrating this hard-fought victory, I hope that you are looking ahead to the next battle. I want to feel proud of my country today, hearing news like this, but I can't help lamenting the distance we have before us, the long way we have yet to go.
Anyway, thanks for the e-mail. Keep up the good work.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
The following Senators:
Alexander (R-TN), Nay
Barrasso (R-WY), Nay
Bennett (R-UT), Nay
Bond (R-MO), Nay
Brownback (R-KS), Nay
Bunning (R-KY), Not Voting
Burr (R-NC), Nay
Chambliss (R-GA), Nay
Coburn (R-OK), Nay
Cochran (R-MS), Nay
Corker (R-TN), Nay
Cornyn (R-TX), Nay
Crapo (R-ID), Nay
DeMint (R-SC), Nay
Ensign (R-NV), Nay
Enzi (R-WY), Nay
Graham (R-SC), Nay
Grassley (R-IA), Nay
Gregg (R-NH), Not Voting
Hatch (R-UT), Not Voting
Hutchison (R-TX), Nay
Inhofe (R-OK), Nay
Isakson (R-GA), Nay
Johanns (R-NE), Nay
Kyl (R-AZ), Nay
LeMieux (R-FL), Nay
Lugar (R-IN), Nay
Manchin (D-WV), Not Voting
McCain (R-AZ), Nay
McConnell (R-KY), Nay
Risch (R-ID), Nay
Roberts (R-KS), Nay
Sessions (R-AL), Nay
Shelby (R-AL), Nay
Thune (R-SD), Nay
Vitter (R-LA), Nay
Wicker (R-MS), Nay
are all cowards. The men and women on this list ought to be ashamed of themselves and their votes today. If any of my readers hail from the states represented by these Senators, I encourage you to e-mail them to express your displeasure at the way they have represented you and the other citizens of your state. It doesn't matter that the motion passed, that history has passed by these aging bigots and their old world views. These men and women, at least today, did not support American troops the way they deserve to be supported.
Dear Mr. President,
I was at work today when my phone alerted me to a new e-mail from you. It began:
Moments ago, the Senate voted to end "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."
When that bill reaches my desk, I will sign it, and this discriminatory law will be repealed.
Gay and lesbian service members -- brave Americans who enable our freedoms -- will no longer have to hide who they are.
The fight for civil rights, a struggle that continues, will no longer include this one.
I think this is my favorite way to receive such good news. Not to live up to your accusation of the left being totally impossible to please or anything, but I can't help fixating on the idea that troops who are risking their lives to serve our country can't marry the people they love. We'll let them serve- now even openly- but we won't let them marry their partners. I know, I know, you and congress need a minute to breathe, to recover from this long-overdue fight, but this is too important to rest. It is unfathomable to ask gay and lesbian Americans to serve a country that still legally treats them as second-class citizens.
So while you're celebrating this hard-fought victory, I hope that you are looking ahead to the next battle. I want to feel proud of my country today, hearing news like this, but I can't help lamenting the distance we have before us, the long way we have yet to go.
Anyway, thanks for the e-mail. Keep up the good work.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, December 17, 2010
Day 351- Celery
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Exclusive - Mike Huckabee Extended Interview | ||||
| ||||
Dear Mr. President,
Watching The Daily Show last night, I felt like cheering when Mike Huckabee suggested that Democrats were making health benefits for 9/11 first responders a political battle and Jon Stewart retorted "honestly, to their discredit, they haven't." Stewart goes on to compare the situation to the Democrats being handed a feast of a political win on a silver platter and refusing it in order to sit in a corner and eat celery. His entire show seemed to beg the question "hey, where's your outrage now?" of every 9/11-invoking Republican, FOX news pundit and mosque-protesting bigot. Because honoring those who died on (and continue to die from) 9/11 is about more than keeping Islamic community centers outside of a 10-block radius of ground zero. Mr. Stewart, after the rally to restore sanity, forcefully reminded Rachel Maddow that unlike pundits representing real news networks, he doesn't have any skin in the game, he doesn't play so much as shout drunkenly from the stands. I think yesterday's show demonstrated rather clearly why that isn't always true. It must be frustrating to watch a comedian out-articulate you with a message that Democrats ought to have been owning since the Republican filibuster began.
Another silver platter story arrived in the form of the Republican opposition to the International Protecting Girls by Preventing Child Marriage Act of 2010. House Republicans voted against the bill (even some who co-sponsored it) citing fiscal concerns and bizarre fears that such legislation could increase abortions. I just want to tear my hair out at the horrifying logic being used to justify this. Where is the family-values outrage now?
(See that Cat? See the Cradle? )
I understand the desire to live in merry bipartisan bliss, especially now that every one is in the spirit of the holidays. But Jon Stewart is right. Enough celery! Democrats ought to be finding every TV camera they can and repeating some version of the same line about honoring 9/11's heroes and protecting vulnerable children from exploitation in the name of marriage. The race for 2012 starts any day now (if not yesterday) and voters across the country need to know that voting Republican is tantamount to saying it's OK to let 9/11 first responders suffer and struggle and die, that it's OK to quibble about the global gag rule while 12-year old girls are forced to marry men old enough to be their grandfathers.
Put down the celery Mr. President, it's time for a more satisfying entree.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Day 350- Old photographs
Dear Mr. President,
Today I brought in one of my Senior portraits to show one of my coworkers who'd asked to see what I looked like with dreadlocks. A trip down memory lane always is good for a laugh, (especially when recalling my 18-year-old self's somewhat eccentric fashion sense.) This week, reflecting as I have been on the very different paths so many of my friends from those days have taken, I can't help but wonder if the girl with the purple dreads and the pink satin thrift-store dress over bell-bottom jeans would be happy with the way she's turned out. My wardrobe is certainly more subdued, my hair less exciting, but would she be ok knowing what I've become? What I've failed to become? I may not miss much about being 18, but she had a faith in herself and in her own ability to achieve that's been lost in the years since this picture was taken, and today I miss that faith tremendously.
I've been struggling lately to remind myself that lives and accomplishments can't (and shouldn't) be held up for comparison. The decisions that have led me to my current state may haunt me in the evident joy of those who chose the alternate path, but I cannot evaluate my life against those of my peers. Our circumstances and struggles and goals are very different. It is ultimately the ways I've disappointed my own hopes, and not the ways the my life and accomplishments fail to measure up to those of my friends, that really bother me.
Do you feel like you've lived up to the goals you set for your Presidency? While it may be just as unfair to compare your own achievements to those of previous Presidents, this context is used by media pundits and fellow politicians alike to lend context to your achievements and shortcomings. This may be even more unfair than judging my own life against other 24-year-olds, as
we've come of age in the same era while your predecessors had very different social, congressional and economic situations. I reject the comparisons to Presidents Clinton, Carter and Bush (I & II) but I do wonder about the ways you've disappointed your own hopes and expectations. Today's tax compromise cannot feel like you'd imagined running the country would feel when you were campaigning.
I'm probably just projecting my own soul-searching onto you, but I think that such an ugly political defeat would have to make you reflect on the things you said you'd do once you got to the White House. I wish I had something cheerful or comforting to say, but I can only hope that both of us find the strength to face our reflections tomorrow morning. Our accomplishments, past and to come, mean nothing without it. And, be it because of the judgement of old photographs or the way we suffer in comparison to others, I think that there is some good, some hope, so long as we maintain the honesty necessary to feel our disappointment in ourselves.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today I brought in one of my Senior portraits to show one of my coworkers who'd asked to see what I looked like with dreadlocks. A trip down memory lane always is good for a laugh, (especially when recalling my 18-year-old self's somewhat eccentric fashion sense.) This week, reflecting as I have been on the very different paths so many of my friends from those days have taken, I can't help but wonder if the girl with the purple dreads and the pink satin thrift-store dress over bell-bottom jeans would be happy with the way she's turned out. My wardrobe is certainly more subdued, my hair less exciting, but would she be ok knowing what I've become? What I've failed to become? I may not miss much about being 18, but she had a faith in herself and in her own ability to achieve that's been lost in the years since this picture was taken, and today I miss that faith tremendously.
I've been struggling lately to remind myself that lives and accomplishments can't (and shouldn't) be held up for comparison. The decisions that have led me to my current state may haunt me in the evident joy of those who chose the alternate path, but I cannot evaluate my life against those of my peers. Our circumstances and struggles and goals are very different. It is ultimately the ways I've disappointed my own hopes, and not the ways the my life and accomplishments fail to measure up to those of my friends, that really bother me.
Do you feel like you've lived up to the goals you set for your Presidency? While it may be just as unfair to compare your own achievements to those of previous Presidents, this context is used by media pundits and fellow politicians alike to lend context to your achievements and shortcomings. This may be even more unfair than judging my own life against other 24-year-olds, as
we've come of age in the same era while your predecessors had very different social, congressional and economic situations. I reject the comparisons to Presidents Clinton, Carter and Bush (I & II) but I do wonder about the ways you've disappointed your own hopes and expectations. Today's tax compromise cannot feel like you'd imagined running the country would feel when you were campaigning.
I'm probably just projecting my own soul-searching onto you, but I think that such an ugly political defeat would have to make you reflect on the things you said you'd do once you got to the White House. I wish I had something cheerful or comforting to say, but I can only hope that both of us find the strength to face our reflections tomorrow morning. Our accomplishments, past and to come, mean nothing without it. And, be it because of the judgement of old photographs or the way we suffer in comparison to others, I think that there is some good, some hope, so long as we maintain the honesty necessary to feel our disappointment in ourselves.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, December 13, 2010
Day 347-Richard Holbrooke
Dear Mr. President,
Richard Holbrooke's death is a loss for his family and for the international community he spent his life serving. Reports of his final words "You've got to stop this war in Afghanistan" left me wondering who he'd intended them for. Were those words for you, the one person who might be able to do it alone? Or were they for all of us, each person with our own, considerably reduced, ability to bring the conflict to an end. I had to consider the wisdom of this man, his life spent experiencing first hand the international drama I study in classrooms. Was he speaking to me, then? Did he believe that the war even could be stopped?
I may not always trust my own naive beliefs about war, but I don't think that Mr. Holbrooke suffered from naiveté. His call for an end to this war joins a chorus of other well-informed voices demanding that we end this senseless, counter-productive and expensive conflict. I don't imagine that any last words, even those of such a distinguished diplomatic heavyweight, will change your position on the war so dramatically.
If there is one thing that I am saddest about after all of these letters is that I no longer believe you're capable of listening to the anti-war voices in your rush to please the right. Even when those voices come from true American heroes, you seem to have accepted the argument that being anti-war is being anti-American. In the cacophony of discussion about strategic values, public perception and geopolitics I think the simple statement that this war is just wrong will inevitably be lost.
As we mourn the passing of a great man who served his country well, I know that I, at least, won't be mourning just his death but also the sad knowledge his dying words have fallen on deaf ears.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Richard Holbrooke's death is a loss for his family and for the international community he spent his life serving. Reports of his final words "You've got to stop this war in Afghanistan" left me wondering who he'd intended them for. Were those words for you, the one person who might be able to do it alone? Or were they for all of us, each person with our own, considerably reduced, ability to bring the conflict to an end. I had to consider the wisdom of this man, his life spent experiencing first hand the international drama I study in classrooms. Was he speaking to me, then? Did he believe that the war even could be stopped?
I may not always trust my own naive beliefs about war, but I don't think that Mr. Holbrooke suffered from naiveté. His call for an end to this war joins a chorus of other well-informed voices demanding that we end this senseless, counter-productive and expensive conflict. I don't imagine that any last words, even those of such a distinguished diplomatic heavyweight, will change your position on the war so dramatically.
If there is one thing that I am saddest about after all of these letters is that I no longer believe you're capable of listening to the anti-war voices in your rush to please the right. Even when those voices come from true American heroes, you seem to have accepted the argument that being anti-war is being anti-American. In the cacophony of discussion about strategic values, public perception and geopolitics I think the simple statement that this war is just wrong will inevitably be lost.
As we mourn the passing of a great man who served his country well, I know that I, at least, won't be mourning just his death but also the sad knowledge his dying words have fallen on deaf ears.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Day 346- "Bigotry disguised as prudence"
It still seems an unwritten rule in establishment Washington that homophobia is at most a misdemeanor. By this code, the Smithsonian’s surrender is no big deal; let the art world do its little protests. This attitude explains why the ever more absurd excuses concocted by John McCain for almost single-handedly thwarting the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” are rarely called out for what they are — “bigotry disguised as prudence,” in the apt phrase of Slate’s military affairs columnist, Fred Kaplan.
-Frank Rich "Gay Bashing at the Smithsonian"
Dear Mr. President,
Frank Rich's column in the New York Times is worth reading, and not just for the brilliant and characteristically eloquent way he takes down the hypocrites crying "hate speech" about the Smithsonian's exhibit including "A Fire in My Belly." Beyond the cold political outrage, Rich draws a parallel between the deaths of bullied gay teens and the deaths of so many artists and the ones they loved to AIDS. His words convey a palpable helplessness, the frustration of watching from a distance as so many suffer and die needlessly as those in power condemn them, of listening as the hateful bullying from the right once is once again allowed to marginalize the gay community without objection.
I can relate to the way Rich feels. It's appalling to see the Smithsonian capitulate to the homophobic bullies on the right offended by art. And while Republicans in congress pile on their own objections, they continue to hold up repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell, and, as Rich notes, have yet to participate in the anti-bullying it gets better project. I think that common sense tells us a piece of art that some find offensive is far less deserving of the condemnation of members of congress than a national epidemic of homophobia and its attending death and suffering. I don't understand. I know I am removed from it, living in the privilege of a white-skinned heterosexual body. But I couldn't help but see the faces of my friends in the stories of the young artists dying of and losing loved ones to AIDS, of the boys giving up on life because they fear they will never live and be accepted for who they are. I see them in these stories and I ache for losing them and seeing their losses. Most of all, I feel angry. Angry that I cannot protect them from people like this, people with the power to help them who do nothing but make it worse and then have the audacity to get angry about their expressions of frustration. It is unsurprising that a religion wielded as a tool of oppression will become the target of criticism and frustration by those it oppresses.
Heterosexual Christians wrote the laws of this country. They have determined who can vote, who can marry, whose lives are worth funding research to save and who gets to serve in the military. It is long past time for it to be ok to make and display and honor art that expresses the pain at the damage that their system has caused. The Smithsonian made a mistake, backing down in the face of this manufactured controversy. I think it is time that you (and more of those with the power to change our cultural acceptance of homophobia) stood up and said so.
Mr. President you campaigned on the promise that life for gay and lesbian Americans would be better under your administration than under President Bush's. While there may be a limit on how many minds you can legislate into acceptance, there are unjust laws that are within your power to change. The alteration of this exhibit at the Smithsonian may seem like a small thing, but it is the latest in a long series of capitulations to the idea that not only is being gay unacceptable, being angry at the way the rest of the country treats you isn't either.
Please read Mr. Rich's column, Mr. President, and ask yourself if you are still fine doing nothing on this issue.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
-Frank Rich "Gay Bashing at the Smithsonian"
Dear Mr. President,
Frank Rich's column in the New York Times is worth reading, and not just for the brilliant and characteristically eloquent way he takes down the hypocrites crying "hate speech" about the Smithsonian's exhibit including "A Fire in My Belly." Beyond the cold political outrage, Rich draws a parallel between the deaths of bullied gay teens and the deaths of so many artists and the ones they loved to AIDS. His words convey a palpable helplessness, the frustration of watching from a distance as so many suffer and die needlessly as those in power condemn them, of listening as the hateful bullying from the right once is once again allowed to marginalize the gay community without objection.
I can relate to the way Rich feels. It's appalling to see the Smithsonian capitulate to the homophobic bullies on the right offended by art. And while Republicans in congress pile on their own objections, they continue to hold up repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell, and, as Rich notes, have yet to participate in the anti-bullying it gets better project. I think that common sense tells us a piece of art that some find offensive is far less deserving of the condemnation of members of congress than a national epidemic of homophobia and its attending death and suffering. I don't understand. I know I am removed from it, living in the privilege of a white-skinned heterosexual body. But I couldn't help but see the faces of my friends in the stories of the young artists dying of and losing loved ones to AIDS, of the boys giving up on life because they fear they will never live and be accepted for who they are. I see them in these stories and I ache for losing them and seeing their losses. Most of all, I feel angry. Angry that I cannot protect them from people like this, people with the power to help them who do nothing but make it worse and then have the audacity to get angry about their expressions of frustration. It is unsurprising that a religion wielded as a tool of oppression will become the target of criticism and frustration by those it oppresses.
Heterosexual Christians wrote the laws of this country. They have determined who can vote, who can marry, whose lives are worth funding research to save and who gets to serve in the military. It is long past time for it to be ok to make and display and honor art that expresses the pain at the damage that their system has caused. The Smithsonian made a mistake, backing down in the face of this manufactured controversy. I think it is time that you (and more of those with the power to change our cultural acceptance of homophobia) stood up and said so.
Mr. President you campaigned on the promise that life for gay and lesbian Americans would be better under your administration than under President Bush's. While there may be a limit on how many minds you can legislate into acceptance, there are unjust laws that are within your power to change. The alteration of this exhibit at the Smithsonian may seem like a small thing, but it is the latest in a long series of capitulations to the idea that not only is being gay unacceptable, being angry at the way the rest of the country treats you isn't either.
Please read Mr. Rich's column, Mr. President, and ask yourself if you are still fine doing nothing on this issue.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Day 338-The Moral Lie
Dear Mr. President,
While I am generally opposed to lying, and do not tell many lies, there are certain lies I tell all the time. I don't think this makes me much different from most people, and I usually carry on with little notice of this hypocrisy. The polite constraints we expect of one another in most casual conversations compel a certain amount of dishonesty. I think that most of the lies I tell are for the sake of politeness. But, today at least, dishonesty weighs heavily on my conscience.
I have been staring at this page for hours now, wondering if I have the courage to finish this story. I have written before about stigmas surrounding mental illness, the way a frank admission of depression and its effects can change the way people look at you, the way they treat you and the esteem they hold for you. I have experienced both sides of this disdain and am loathe to subject myself to it. To be honest about my struggle, to be honest about my history would be uncomfortable for me and for those who think they want to know about it. And so I lie, for every one's comfort. Or so I tell myself.
When I was very young, and for years after I was old enough to know better I was troubled with compulsive self-injury. It may ring falsely to those who do not understand this, those who see only the stigma, the cliché, to describe myself as passively affected, the direct object of such acts rather than their perpetrator. And I am theirs to judge, I suppose. My history with it is long and complicated and over. I have shut the book on that struggle, on that part of my life and, most importantly, on that behavior. But the evidence of it remains, and will likely remain on my skin for the rest of my life. I don't think it is fair that I should be judged by the mistakes of my younger self, that I should be defined by this aspect of my past, no matter how far it is behind me. When questioned about these old scars, I tell myself that those who ask really do not want to know the story behind them, and it gives my conscience no trouble lying to them. It is, after all, for their own good.
Today I was asked by some one I have slowly come to trust and I lied anyway, almost without realizing I was doing it. I don't imagine he is the type of person to ask questions he does not actually want the answer to. Because I look for his approval the same way I would look for that of a role model or mentor or even a brother, I realized even as I was in the process of lying that I was doing it for my own protection and not for his. I was lying because it is important to me not to be seen as weak or emotionally disturbed. I was lying because of my own ego, my own fear, and I could not pretend that there was any nobility, any honor, in this fiction.
Which brings me, once again, (and rather oddly,) to Wikileaks. As I hear each new story, as each new lie is revealed, I find myself wondering not at the government's dishonesty but at its justification for this dishonesty. The gossipy diplomatic cables I understand. I don't care if a US diplomat thinks Vladimir Putin is Batman and doesn't want the world to know. (Honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if Vladimir Putin wasn't Batman, but I can see how it might cause some discomfort.) These are polite obfuscations that help every one save face. The body counts in Iraq, the corruption in Afghanistan, the 22 dead children in Yemen, however, are not lied about because they are impolite topics of conversation. These are lies of ego, lies of fear, lies born of the greater self-delusion that they are kept from the American people for our own good. Even the idea that bringing these crimes to light will put American troops in greater danger is, I believe, misguided. The people of Iraq and Afghanistan (and Yemen. And Palestine. And God knows how many other places.) know who is killing their children and empowering their corrupt leaders. This information is only secret to the American people, and it is kept secret from us not to protect us but to protect our government from our reaction to this knowledge. And there is no nobility, no honor, in these fictions.
My past is full of dark things and terrible stories and many people will not want to hear them. But I cannot pretend I hide the past for the protection of others. I hide because I am ashamed and I hide because I am afraid. And so do you. So does this government. Our greatest lie is not when we hide the truth from others but when we tell ourselves that we lie for a greater good.
I did not write this letter to call you out for these lies. Clearly, I have no moral high ground to claim. We are both liars and we are both deceived by our own lies. I wrote this letter because I have been quick to condemn your dishonesty while slow to notice the same tendency in my own life. I understand why you lie, and why you convince yourself it is the moral thing to do. I just don't think that you really believe it any more than I do.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
While I am generally opposed to lying, and do not tell many lies, there are certain lies I tell all the time. I don't think this makes me much different from most people, and I usually carry on with little notice of this hypocrisy. The polite constraints we expect of one another in most casual conversations compel a certain amount of dishonesty. I think that most of the lies I tell are for the sake of politeness. But, today at least, dishonesty weighs heavily on my conscience.
I have been staring at this page for hours now, wondering if I have the courage to finish this story. I have written before about stigmas surrounding mental illness, the way a frank admission of depression and its effects can change the way people look at you, the way they treat you and the esteem they hold for you. I have experienced both sides of this disdain and am loathe to subject myself to it. To be honest about my struggle, to be honest about my history would be uncomfortable for me and for those who think they want to know about it. And so I lie, for every one's comfort. Or so I tell myself.
When I was very young, and for years after I was old enough to know better I was troubled with compulsive self-injury. It may ring falsely to those who do not understand this, those who see only the stigma, the cliché, to describe myself as passively affected, the direct object of such acts rather than their perpetrator. And I am theirs to judge, I suppose. My history with it is long and complicated and over. I have shut the book on that struggle, on that part of my life and, most importantly, on that behavior. But the evidence of it remains, and will likely remain on my skin for the rest of my life. I don't think it is fair that I should be judged by the mistakes of my younger self, that I should be defined by this aspect of my past, no matter how far it is behind me. When questioned about these old scars, I tell myself that those who ask really do not want to know the story behind them, and it gives my conscience no trouble lying to them. It is, after all, for their own good.
Today I was asked by some one I have slowly come to trust and I lied anyway, almost without realizing I was doing it. I don't imagine he is the type of person to ask questions he does not actually want the answer to. Because I look for his approval the same way I would look for that of a role model or mentor or even a brother, I realized even as I was in the process of lying that I was doing it for my own protection and not for his. I was lying because it is important to me not to be seen as weak or emotionally disturbed. I was lying because of my own ego, my own fear, and I could not pretend that there was any nobility, any honor, in this fiction.
Which brings me, once again, (and rather oddly,) to Wikileaks. As I hear each new story, as each new lie is revealed, I find myself wondering not at the government's dishonesty but at its justification for this dishonesty. The gossipy diplomatic cables I understand. I don't care if a US diplomat thinks Vladimir Putin is Batman and doesn't want the world to know. (Honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if Vladimir Putin wasn't Batman, but I can see how it might cause some discomfort.) These are polite obfuscations that help every one save face. The body counts in Iraq, the corruption in Afghanistan, the 22 dead children in Yemen, however, are not lied about because they are impolite topics of conversation. These are lies of ego, lies of fear, lies born of the greater self-delusion that they are kept from the American people for our own good. Even the idea that bringing these crimes to light will put American troops in greater danger is, I believe, misguided. The people of Iraq and Afghanistan (and Yemen. And Palestine. And God knows how many other places.) know who is killing their children and empowering their corrupt leaders. This information is only secret to the American people, and it is kept secret from us not to protect us but to protect our government from our reaction to this knowledge. And there is no nobility, no honor, in these fictions.
My past is full of dark things and terrible stories and many people will not want to hear them. But I cannot pretend I hide the past for the protection of others. I hide because I am ashamed and I hide because I am afraid. And so do you. So does this government. Our greatest lie is not when we hide the truth from others but when we tell ourselves that we lie for a greater good.
I did not write this letter to call you out for these lies. Clearly, I have no moral high ground to claim. We are both liars and we are both deceived by our own lies. I wrote this letter because I have been quick to condemn your dishonesty while slow to notice the same tendency in my own life. I understand why you lie, and why you convince yourself it is the moral thing to do. I just don't think that you really believe it any more than I do.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Day 332- Wikileaks (with a vengeance)
Dear Mr. President,
For a casual student of foreign affairs such as myself, today is basically Christmas come early. Getting a glimpse behind the veil of secrecy that obscures much of the day-to-day unscripted intrigue of international relations can be exciting, even if it likely made the last few day (and the next few weeks) pretty rough for you. While much of the information leaked concerns only trivial possibly-embarrassing frankness, some of the information is already proving to provide a new picture of our current relations with several countries. And, while I take no pleasure at seeing you or your administration embarrassed, I do think that the right of the American people to have access to the knowledge of how we are being represented abroad is more important than the impoliteness of letting foreign leaders know what we really think of them.
Certainly this latest release of information is less damning than the previous revelations about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan from Wikileaks. If nothing else, it might be viewed as an opportunity to learn about weaknesses in our government's electronic secret-keeping. We might also take a moment to appreciate the importance of not bribing or bullying other countries, (not to mention mistaking aid money for pay-offs and US diplomats for spies) unless we're cool with every one knowing about it, but even I'm not so naive as to believe your administration capable of learning that particular lesson.
As with every other letter I've written you about Wikileaks, I will conclude this by saying that no damage could be done to a government acting with honest good intentions. And maybe ours is too big, our foreign policy too complicated, for that to always be the case, but leaks like these are shameful because our government ought to be ashamed of how it represents the people of the United States. We share your embarrassment just as we share the responsibility for the foreign policy decisions you would prefer be made in secret. If we're to be represented by our government we have the right to know what it does. Should the day come that our government manages to represent us well, it will have nothing to fear from the truth.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
For a casual student of foreign affairs such as myself, today is basically Christmas come early. Getting a glimpse behind the veil of secrecy that obscures much of the day-to-day unscripted intrigue of international relations can be exciting, even if it likely made the last few day (and the next few weeks) pretty rough for you. While much of the information leaked concerns only trivial possibly-embarrassing frankness, some of the information is already proving to provide a new picture of our current relations with several countries. And, while I take no pleasure at seeing you or your administration embarrassed, I do think that the right of the American people to have access to the knowledge of how we are being represented abroad is more important than the impoliteness of letting foreign leaders know what we really think of them.
Certainly this latest release of information is less damning than the previous revelations about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan from Wikileaks. If nothing else, it might be viewed as an opportunity to learn about weaknesses in our government's electronic secret-keeping. We might also take a moment to appreciate the importance of not bribing or bullying other countries, (not to mention mistaking aid money for pay-offs and US diplomats for spies) unless we're cool with every one knowing about it, but even I'm not so naive as to believe your administration capable of learning that particular lesson.
As with every other letter I've written you about Wikileaks, I will conclude this by saying that no damage could be done to a government acting with honest good intentions. And maybe ours is too big, our foreign policy too complicated, for that to always be the case, but leaks like these are shameful because our government ought to be ashamed of how it represents the people of the United States. We share your embarrassment just as we share the responsibility for the foreign policy decisions you would prefer be made in secret. If we're to be represented by our government we have the right to know what it does. Should the day come that our government manages to represent us well, it will have nothing to fear from the truth.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Day 331- A change of heart
Dear Mr. President,
Former Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens has changed his views on the constitutionality of the death penalty. Thirty-four years after deciding with the majority to reinstate capital punishment, Stevens has cited judicial activism, rampant systematic racism and the hysteria of those making life or death decisions as evidence that the death penalty, at least in its current form, is not consistent with the constitution. While this change of heart does nothing for the 1,100-some hearts stopped in the interim years, it does demonstrate an admirable commitment to the higher purpose of the law; a commitment unshaken even by the fear of backing down from such a public position on such a difficult issue.
To see a change like this in such a high-profile individual is astounding. How often do we hear politicians or judges admit they were wrong? How often does the synthesis of new information or insight (rather than the cynical hope of political gain) actually change the entrenched views of our leaders? While, as a result of my own ideology, I am certainly more impressed than I would be if Justice Stevens' opinion had changed the other way, I think that the power of this announcement is not in the moral soundness of his judgement but in his willingness to admit that his previous position was wrong.
I hope that you carefully consider the Justice's words on the subject. I, like Justice Stevens, do not believe that capital punishment has a place in our legal system, and I hope that you take this opportunity to question your own position on the issue. Unlike Justice Stevens, whose changing heart cannot hope to change many lives, you are in a position to help those unjustly affected by this policy. Read the Justice's essay, Mr. President, and see if your own heart is not moved to make the same change.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Former Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens has changed his views on the constitutionality of the death penalty. Thirty-four years after deciding with the majority to reinstate capital punishment, Stevens has cited judicial activism, rampant systematic racism and the hysteria of those making life or death decisions as evidence that the death penalty, at least in its current form, is not consistent with the constitution. While this change of heart does nothing for the 1,100-some hearts stopped in the interim years, it does demonstrate an admirable commitment to the higher purpose of the law; a commitment unshaken even by the fear of backing down from such a public position on such a difficult issue.
To see a change like this in such a high-profile individual is astounding. How often do we hear politicians or judges admit they were wrong? How often does the synthesis of new information or insight (rather than the cynical hope of political gain) actually change the entrenched views of our leaders? While, as a result of my own ideology, I am certainly more impressed than I would be if Justice Stevens' opinion had changed the other way, I think that the power of this announcement is not in the moral soundness of his judgement but in his willingness to admit that his previous position was wrong.
I hope that you carefully consider the Justice's words on the subject. I, like Justice Stevens, do not believe that capital punishment has a place in our legal system, and I hope that you take this opportunity to question your own position on the issue. Unlike Justice Stevens, whose changing heart cannot hope to change many lives, you are in a position to help those unjustly affected by this policy. Read the Justice's essay, Mr. President, and see if your own heart is not moved to make the same change.
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
Monday, November 8, 2010
Day 312- Quack. Quack. Quack.
Dear Mr. President,
For all the prattle about the new agenda of the Republican-controlled Houe, the year isn't quite over. While the lame-duck session may be a short one, and subject to the unfortunate political reality of a weakened Democratic party, I hope that repealing DADT is given the effort it deserves. The support of Defense Secretary Robert Gates for such a repeal (and his sage urging that the repeal take place before the new year) should indicate enough will within the military establishment to pull off such a herculean task.
I suppose my usual cynical dismissal of the political courage of Democrats will kick in any moment, but I actually feel pretty confident about the prospects of a lame-duck session. From my perspective, the Senate has been governing like lame-duck senators since 2008. It seems as though there is at least the same chance of the repeal as there was before the election.
As usual, I believe that the Senate's action on this issue will be a direct result of White House leadership. Only Presidential direction and political influence will ensure that the Democrats are successful in this attempt. Coming through on this major campaign promise would be an encouraging sign to all of your supporters that, even after a loss like the midterms, you aren't giving up on the change we were promised.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
For all the prattle about the new agenda of the Republican-controlled Houe, the year isn't quite over. While the lame-duck session may be a short one, and subject to the unfortunate political reality of a weakened Democratic party, I hope that repealing DADT is given the effort it deserves. The support of Defense Secretary Robert Gates for such a repeal (and his sage urging that the repeal take place before the new year) should indicate enough will within the military establishment to pull off such a herculean task.
I suppose my usual cynical dismissal of the political courage of Democrats will kick in any moment, but I actually feel pretty confident about the prospects of a lame-duck session. From my perspective, the Senate has been governing like lame-duck senators since 2008. It seems as though there is at least the same chance of the repeal as there was before the election.
As usual, I believe that the Senate's action on this issue will be a direct result of White House leadership. Only Presidential direction and political influence will ensure that the Democrats are successful in this attempt. Coming through on this major campaign promise would be an encouraging sign to all of your supporters that, even after a loss like the midterms, you aren't giving up on the change we were promised.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Day 307- It's called a break-up because it's broken
Dear Mr. President,
So this morning my promised renewal of hope and optimism in the face of setbacks has not emerged. It could be that the demands of my school schedule this week have made "morning" a purely sunlight-relative term with little correlation to actual sleep. It could be the lingering questions as ballots are slowly processed in my home state. It could be denial, a malaise delaying the inevitable grief I can't yet allow myself to feel the full force of. I did like your speech today, and I thought you made several important points about the need to fundamentally change parts of our governing system.
I'm sure I won't be the first, last or most important person to say this, but I don't think this election means you should back down. Your agenda shouldn't change, shouldn't be compromised and should not be tempered. (Which is not say that compromise won't eventually be necessary.) Democrats should not give up on comprehensive energy, immigration, campaign finance and tax reform. For one thing, conceding too much at this point will only further weaken our positions once legislative battles really get underway. For another thing, i still think we're right; our policies are better, and our plan for America is the best one. Refusing to compromise our fundamental values is the only way to ensure that losing the house doesn't translate into losing the White House. This isn't to say that we shouldn't work with the Republican leadership, only that we should not be meek about demonstrating our goals and ideals to the American people.
A friend compared the way we feel this morning to the way we feel after a bad breakup. I think his metaphor is an apt one. After a break-up, you may re-examine your choices and your mistakes in the course of a relationship, but you don't change your identity in hopes that you won't get dumped again. Democrats need to work on our communication skills, our self-confidence, our willingness to assert ourselves. We might need to lose 5 lbs and reconsider our highlight strategy. Our wardrobe could probably use an update. But we do not change who we are, fundamentally. The things we believe, the things we value, all of the things that make us different from the opposition, those should not change. In the meantime, if you want to stay in bed and watch soap operas while eating chocolate ice cream in your pajamas for a day or so, well, you do whatever it takes to get through this. I know I will.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
So this morning my promised renewal of hope and optimism in the face of setbacks has not emerged. It could be that the demands of my school schedule this week have made "morning" a purely sunlight-relative term with little correlation to actual sleep. It could be the lingering questions as ballots are slowly processed in my home state. It could be denial, a malaise delaying the inevitable grief I can't yet allow myself to feel the full force of. I did like your speech today, and I thought you made several important points about the need to fundamentally change parts of our governing system.
I'm sure I won't be the first, last or most important person to say this, but I don't think this election means you should back down. Your agenda shouldn't change, shouldn't be compromised and should not be tempered. (Which is not say that compromise won't eventually be necessary.) Democrats should not give up on comprehensive energy, immigration, campaign finance and tax reform. For one thing, conceding too much at this point will only further weaken our positions once legislative battles really get underway. For another thing, i still think we're right; our policies are better, and our plan for America is the best one. Refusing to compromise our fundamental values is the only way to ensure that losing the house doesn't translate into losing the White House. This isn't to say that we shouldn't work with the Republican leadership, only that we should not be meek about demonstrating our goals and ideals to the American people.
A friend compared the way we feel this morning to the way we feel after a bad breakup. I think his metaphor is an apt one. After a break-up, you may re-examine your choices and your mistakes in the course of a relationship, but you don't change your identity in hopes that you won't get dumped again. Democrats need to work on our communication skills, our self-confidence, our willingness to assert ourselves. We might need to lose 5 lbs and reconsider our highlight strategy. Our wardrobe could probably use an update. But we do not change who we are, fundamentally. The things we believe, the things we value, all of the things that make us different from the opposition, those should not change. In the meantime, if you want to stay in bed and watch soap operas while eating chocolate ice cream in your pajamas for a day or so, well, you do whatever it takes to get through this. I know I will.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Day 301- Undecided
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight Rasmussen released another poll showing Dino Rossi pulling ahead. I'm pretty much in a state of panic, even as I continue to console myself with the frequent inaccuracy of Rasmussen's polls. Paul Krugman's Op-ed isn't making me much calmer. I'm terrified of the results we'll find on election day, and even more so of the resulting legislative agenda. Keith Olbermann's recent comment on the Tea Party articulated the fears that many of us on the left are experiencing this year.
But polls and pundit comments aside, this midterm should have people scared. Every election, about this time, I start marveling at the very idea of undecided voters. I feel so strongly about politics that I can't even date Republicans; and I may not be able to stand them, but I at least respect the passion that I see in my friends on the right. It is undecided voters, swing voters, people who seem to change their entire value system (or not understand how that value system is represented by their vote) every 2-4 years who confuse me. It baffles me. How can a voter who clearly understood the problems with the Bush administration (and the candidates who wanted to continue them) just two years ago suddenly be confused about who to vote for? It seems to me that the center has long been controlled by the most willfully disengaged, and the fact that they're the ones who get to decide so many elections frustrates me to no end.
I don't think that congressional Democrats are entirely blameless. Between the cowardly ones who are now running away from the party's agenda in their ads, and the cowardly ones who never had the guts to defend that agenda in the first place, it is really difficult to see why Democrats are a viable alternative to the bad ideas of Republicans. While I don't think that a disillusionment with Democrats justifies a vote for Republicans, unfortunately the two-party system (and the increasing similarity in the way the parties take money from corporations) leaves many voters feeling that this is the best solution.
Personally, I've been proud to be a Democrat lately. Watching you and Senator Murray and Governor Gregoire speak, meeting President Carter, watching you make such a compelling case for your administration's accomplishments on The Daily Show last night, all of it has restored the pride I thought I'd lost in my party. I hope that the predictions and the polls are wrong. I hope that Democrats get two more years to prove that we're not completely spineless. Because, as much as they confuse me, we're probably going to need those undecided voters in 2012.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight Rasmussen released another poll showing Dino Rossi pulling ahead. I'm pretty much in a state of panic, even as I continue to console myself with the frequent inaccuracy of Rasmussen's polls. Paul Krugman's Op-ed isn't making me much calmer. I'm terrified of the results we'll find on election day, and even more so of the resulting legislative agenda. Keith Olbermann's recent comment on the Tea Party articulated the fears that many of us on the left are experiencing this year.
But polls and pundit comments aside, this midterm should have people scared. Every election, about this time, I start marveling at the very idea of undecided voters. I feel so strongly about politics that I can't even date Republicans; and I may not be able to stand them, but I at least respect the passion that I see in my friends on the right. It is undecided voters, swing voters, people who seem to change their entire value system (or not understand how that value system is represented by their vote) every 2-4 years who confuse me. It baffles me. How can a voter who clearly understood the problems with the Bush administration (and the candidates who wanted to continue them) just two years ago suddenly be confused about who to vote for? It seems to me that the center has long been controlled by the most willfully disengaged, and the fact that they're the ones who get to decide so many elections frustrates me to no end.
I don't think that congressional Democrats are entirely blameless. Between the cowardly ones who are now running away from the party's agenda in their ads, and the cowardly ones who never had the guts to defend that agenda in the first place, it is really difficult to see why Democrats are a viable alternative to the bad ideas of Republicans. While I don't think that a disillusionment with Democrats justifies a vote for Republicans, unfortunately the two-party system (and the increasing similarity in the way the parties take money from corporations) leaves many voters feeling that this is the best solution.
Personally, I've been proud to be a Democrat lately. Watching you and Senator Murray and Governor Gregoire speak, meeting President Carter, watching you make such a compelling case for your administration's accomplishments on The Daily Show last night, all of it has restored the pride I thought I'd lost in my party. I hope that the predictions and the polls are wrong. I hope that Democrats get two more years to prove that we're not completely spineless. Because, as much as they confuse me, we're probably going to need those undecided voters in 2012.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, October 25, 2010
Day 298- Guilty and not guilty
Dear Mr. President,
Omar Khadr pled guilty today. I understand that this plea bargain is his best hope for getting out of Guantanamo Bay and going back home to Canada, but it is still heartbreaking to think about the punishment he will face. You know Khadr's story. I do not need to tell you that he was 15, just three years older than Malia, when he threw a grenade that killed a US soldier. I do not need to tell you that he acted as instructed by his father and the other adults in his life. I do not need to tell you that he was seriously wounded, detained, tortured, and threatened with rape to compel his confession. I don't think I would need to see so many parallels between my own life and Khadr's to be horrified at the way my country has treated him, but while reading about his case I could not help but notice something about the day he was captured.
On July 27th as the 15-year old Khadr was shot, blinded in one eye, and taken in to US custody, I was in a cemetery. Right around noon, before it was late enough to really be called hot, a pickup truck came to a stop on the path near the grave I sat beside. A man I had never seen before got out, and walked over to where I sat. In one hand he had a small handful of vegetables from his garden, I think that they were radishes. He laid them at the gravestone and mumbled something to me about how they had been his nephew's favorite. His nephew, dead more than six months, would have been seventeen that day. I remember there was no accusation in his voice, only sadness. Looking back, I am sure he felt as responsible as I did that Josh would not be celebrating that day, that those of us in his life who were supposed to care for him had failed. I could not, in my own grief, conceive of what was then happening in Ayub Kheyl, Afghanistan.
Omar and I are both 24 now. While the last eight years of his life have been the stuff of nightmares, mine has been fairly average. Perhaps it is our age that makes me wonder so intensely at the very different courses our lives have taken, or the lingering idea that we are both, to varying degrees, responsible for the loss of a life. But I cannot imagine the darkness of his existence, the suffering, the confusion, the fear. I can't begin to put myself in his place. I am no stranger to the harsh reality that there are many my age who are suffering, who have led difficult lives and who will face obstacles and tragedies that I am exempt from because I was born in a place of relative privilege. Is it childlike, then, to wish that Omar had gotten to graduate high school, go to college, to have all of the opportunities I have? To fear that, if he is to spend the rest of his life suffering in payment for his worst mistakes as a fifteen year old child, then I must, as well?
If it is my empathy that disinclines me to believe the charges against Khadr are valid even after he confesses to them, I can accept that. Even if I am entirely wrong, even if Khadr is guilty of every single crime for which he has been accused, I still do not believe that he has been treated fairly or in a manner worthy of the American justice system. While I have no shortage of sympathy and compassion for the soldiers injured by Khadr or the family of the soldier killed, I do not believe that their suffering is eased, or that others like them are made safer, by the harsh treatment suffered by the child responsible. I think we are all just a little guiltier today as we stand by and allow atrocities like this one to continue in our name.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Omar Khadr pled guilty today. I understand that this plea bargain is his best hope for getting out of Guantanamo Bay and going back home to Canada, but it is still heartbreaking to think about the punishment he will face. You know Khadr's story. I do not need to tell you that he was 15, just three years older than Malia, when he threw a grenade that killed a US soldier. I do not need to tell you that he acted as instructed by his father and the other adults in his life. I do not need to tell you that he was seriously wounded, detained, tortured, and threatened with rape to compel his confession. I don't think I would need to see so many parallels between my own life and Khadr's to be horrified at the way my country has treated him, but while reading about his case I could not help but notice something about the day he was captured.
On July 27th as the 15-year old Khadr was shot, blinded in one eye, and taken in to US custody, I was in a cemetery. Right around noon, before it was late enough to really be called hot, a pickup truck came to a stop on the path near the grave I sat beside. A man I had never seen before got out, and walked over to where I sat. In one hand he had a small handful of vegetables from his garden, I think that they were radishes. He laid them at the gravestone and mumbled something to me about how they had been his nephew's favorite. His nephew, dead more than six months, would have been seventeen that day. I remember there was no accusation in his voice, only sadness. Looking back, I am sure he felt as responsible as I did that Josh would not be celebrating that day, that those of us in his life who were supposed to care for him had failed. I could not, in my own grief, conceive of what was then happening in Ayub Kheyl, Afghanistan.
Omar and I are both 24 now. While the last eight years of his life have been the stuff of nightmares, mine has been fairly average. Perhaps it is our age that makes me wonder so intensely at the very different courses our lives have taken, or the lingering idea that we are both, to varying degrees, responsible for the loss of a life. But I cannot imagine the darkness of his existence, the suffering, the confusion, the fear. I can't begin to put myself in his place. I am no stranger to the harsh reality that there are many my age who are suffering, who have led difficult lives and who will face obstacles and tragedies that I am exempt from because I was born in a place of relative privilege. Is it childlike, then, to wish that Omar had gotten to graduate high school, go to college, to have all of the opportunities I have? To fear that, if he is to spend the rest of his life suffering in payment for his worst mistakes as a fifteen year old child, then I must, as well?
If it is my empathy that disinclines me to believe the charges against Khadr are valid even after he confesses to them, I can accept that. Even if I am entirely wrong, even if Khadr is guilty of every single crime for which he has been accused, I still do not believe that he has been treated fairly or in a manner worthy of the American justice system. While I have no shortage of sympathy and compassion for the soldiers injured by Khadr or the family of the soldier killed, I do not believe that their suffering is eased, or that others like them are made safer, by the harsh treatment suffered by the child responsible. I think we are all just a little guiltier today as we stand by and allow atrocities like this one to continue in our name.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, October 22, 2010
Day 295- It gets better
Dear Mr President,
After I wrote you yesterday I saw the video you posted for the It Gets Better project. I thought it was sincere and very moving. The IGB project is close to my heart because it was founded by Dan Savage, who lives in my neighborhood and, despite his national celebrity, reamins active in and committed to the Seattle community. I've seen IGB videos from close friends and coworkers, beloved celebrities, complete strangers, and now the President of the United States. In a world where I often feel helpless and even hopeless about so many things, succumbing to the belief that there is nothing I or any one else could do to ever make it better, the IGB project feels refreshingly practical. It is a tangible way that any one who has struggled and overcome can reach out and speak to young people struggling now. I can't change the cruelty that children will face from bullies, or from our society, and maybe none of us can, as individuals. But that so many people took the time to put themselves out there, to reach out to people they may never know is truly inspiring.
I am sure there are kids out there who will see these videos and will find strength in the support of those who made them. As a teen who struggled with depression, and as a person who knows what it is to lose some one to suicide, I am so grateful to you for putting the weight of the Presidency behind this important project. Thank you so much. There will always be problems that are too complicated to fix, issues that are too complex to have an absolute right. This is not one of them.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
After I wrote you yesterday I saw the video you posted for the It Gets Better project. I thought it was sincere and very moving. The IGB project is close to my heart because it was founded by Dan Savage, who lives in my neighborhood and, despite his national celebrity, reamins active in and committed to the Seattle community. I've seen IGB videos from close friends and coworkers, beloved celebrities, complete strangers, and now the President of the United States. In a world where I often feel helpless and even hopeless about so many things, succumbing to the belief that there is nothing I or any one else could do to ever make it better, the IGB project feels refreshingly practical. It is a tangible way that any one who has struggled and overcome can reach out and speak to young people struggling now. I can't change the cruelty that children will face from bullies, or from our society, and maybe none of us can, as individuals. But that so many people took the time to put themselves out there, to reach out to people they may never know is truly inspiring.
I am sure there are kids out there who will see these videos and will find strength in the support of those who made them. As a teen who struggled with depression, and as a person who knows what it is to lose some one to suicide, I am so grateful to you for putting the weight of the Presidency behind this important project. Thank you so much. There will always be problems that are too complicated to fix, issues that are too complex to have an absolute right. This is not one of them.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, October 11, 2010
Day 284-Politics and our obligations to others
Dear Mr. President,
As tragic stories of youth suicide continue to dominate headlines and conversations, I am hearing more and more questions about the extent of our responsibility for another person's actions. Can an individual be bullied to death, and, if so, can the bullies be held responsible? I don't think that suicide is an act that generally occurs as a response to an isolated event or individual. The smaller problems that pile up and eventually overwhelm a person may never be cited as a reason for suicide but can play an equally significant role. So while Carl Paladino's very public and very bigoted remarks may not, on their own, drive any gay youths to take their own lives, he, and others like him, play a role in creating the hostile environment that feeds bullies and overwhelms struggling teens. (That he made his remarks in the wake of a series of brutal hate crimes against gay men in New York City makes his ignorance even more appalling.)
Back in January of this year I wrote to you about a friend who had taken his own life as a high schooler. It's been more than 8 years and I still find myself questioning the way I treated him, the way I spoke to him, and how much responsibility I bear for his death. It's the kind of haunting doubts that no amount of reassurance will ever relieve. This recent national conversation about teen suicide and bullying has brought all of these old feelings to the surface once again. I feel like my life since I turned 16 has been an ongoing struggle to use my guilt toward better, more compassionate and more useful ends. My inclination toward wallowing helps no one, unless I apply that grief toward improving the way I treat others.
Similarly, our national reaction to these recent suicides is equally meaningless if we don't allow these feelings to lead to anything more helpful than shock, grief and outrage. It is easy to lay blame for these deaths on those who failed in their obligations to these young people as individuals. We do have a responsibility for the way we treat the people, which is obvious enough with those we encounter directly. But we seem to neglect that obligation when it comes to those we don't. For me, this is where the political becomes personal. Our values, our policies, our acceptance of or indifference to discrimination and bigotry all contribute to the very personal tragedies of those dead children. Paladino can spew his hateful remarks at a concept ("homosexuality" or "the homosexual lifestyle") and, because he isn't speaking about individuals, it becomes socially acceptable. (He has since even laughably tried to insist he isn't homophobic, and assertion he'll be allowed to make because people believe he attacked a concept and not a person or people.) But no matter how any one spins it, what Paladino said is just as hateful, just as damaging, and just as unfit for American political discourse as the words of the bullies who pick on an individual child for being gay. The words have the same source and the same consequence, the only difference being that one is taken, at worst, as a political misstep, while the other is potential grounds for legal action. This disconnect is not reserved for gay rights issues; children are bullied for looking, talking, or acting different, for being poor, for being immigrants or the children of immigrants. In a country where being an ethnic or religious minority, an immigrant, or dependent upon social services for survival are constantly vilified or shamed in political discourse, I don't think it's a stretch to say that our children are learning their bullying behaviors from accepted national prejudices.
I've been lucky, for the most part, in that my life has been helped along by a number of caring and compassionate strangers. People who have treated me with kindness and compassion far outnumber the ones who have been hurtful or sexist or willfully cruel. I think that while bullying and cruelty may be inevitable facts of human nature, we generally want to be responsible in the way we treat one another. We want to be kind to their neighbors and the people they encounter in daily life. Which is why, for example, opponents of gay rights often cite their own gay friends/relatives/employees/acquaintances as evidence that they don't hate gay people, they're just talking politics. We have a much easier time discriminating against concepts or groups than individuals. But I don't think this relieves us from the obligations we have to other people, even if we never meet them, even if we never know their names. While I'm not saying that any one opposing gay marriage should be held accountable for the deaths of gay teens, I do feel that they shouldn't be allowed to avoid an appreciation for the real implications of their positions. They aren't just taking a side in a political debate; they are advocating a legal and social bias against people, against the very same friends and relatives they ostensibly treat with compassion and kindness.
So while we continue to grapple with the question of how much responsibility a bully bears for the actions of the bullied, I think we all ought to examine our own words and actions and the role they play in the long-standing and ongoing struggle faced by children and young people who are different. We have to keep our political positions in perspective, to reflect on the way the abstract translates to the tangible, individual, personal consequences. Because I believe that we can all do a better job of tending to one another, of making the already difficult undertaking of growing up just a little bit easier on every one.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
As tragic stories of youth suicide continue to dominate headlines and conversations, I am hearing more and more questions about the extent of our responsibility for another person's actions. Can an individual be bullied to death, and, if so, can the bullies be held responsible? I don't think that suicide is an act that generally occurs as a response to an isolated event or individual. The smaller problems that pile up and eventually overwhelm a person may never be cited as a reason for suicide but can play an equally significant role. So while Carl Paladino's very public and very bigoted remarks may not, on their own, drive any gay youths to take their own lives, he, and others like him, play a role in creating the hostile environment that feeds bullies and overwhelms struggling teens. (That he made his remarks in the wake of a series of brutal hate crimes against gay men in New York City makes his ignorance even more appalling.)
Back in January of this year I wrote to you about a friend who had taken his own life as a high schooler. It's been more than 8 years and I still find myself questioning the way I treated him, the way I spoke to him, and how much responsibility I bear for his death. It's the kind of haunting doubts that no amount of reassurance will ever relieve. This recent national conversation about teen suicide and bullying has brought all of these old feelings to the surface once again. I feel like my life since I turned 16 has been an ongoing struggle to use my guilt toward better, more compassionate and more useful ends. My inclination toward wallowing helps no one, unless I apply that grief toward improving the way I treat others.
Similarly, our national reaction to these recent suicides is equally meaningless if we don't allow these feelings to lead to anything more helpful than shock, grief and outrage. It is easy to lay blame for these deaths on those who failed in their obligations to these young people as individuals. We do have a responsibility for the way we treat the people, which is obvious enough with those we encounter directly. But we seem to neglect that obligation when it comes to those we don't. For me, this is where the political becomes personal. Our values, our policies, our acceptance of or indifference to discrimination and bigotry all contribute to the very personal tragedies of those dead children. Paladino can spew his hateful remarks at a concept ("homosexuality" or "the homosexual lifestyle") and, because he isn't speaking about individuals, it becomes socially acceptable. (He has since even laughably tried to insist he isn't homophobic, and assertion he'll be allowed to make because people believe he attacked a concept and not a person or people.) But no matter how any one spins it, what Paladino said is just as hateful, just as damaging, and just as unfit for American political discourse as the words of the bullies who pick on an individual child for being gay. The words have the same source and the same consequence, the only difference being that one is taken, at worst, as a political misstep, while the other is potential grounds for legal action. This disconnect is not reserved for gay rights issues; children are bullied for looking, talking, or acting different, for being poor, for being immigrants or the children of immigrants. In a country where being an ethnic or religious minority, an immigrant, or dependent upon social services for survival are constantly vilified or shamed in political discourse, I don't think it's a stretch to say that our children are learning their bullying behaviors from accepted national prejudices.
I've been lucky, for the most part, in that my life has been helped along by a number of caring and compassionate strangers. People who have treated me with kindness and compassion far outnumber the ones who have been hurtful or sexist or willfully cruel. I think that while bullying and cruelty may be inevitable facts of human nature, we generally want to be responsible in the way we treat one another. We want to be kind to their neighbors and the people they encounter in daily life. Which is why, for example, opponents of gay rights often cite their own gay friends/relatives/employees/acquaintances as evidence that they don't hate gay people, they're just talking politics. We have a much easier time discriminating against concepts or groups than individuals. But I don't think this relieves us from the obligations we have to other people, even if we never meet them, even if we never know their names. While I'm not saying that any one opposing gay marriage should be held accountable for the deaths of gay teens, I do feel that they shouldn't be allowed to avoid an appreciation for the real implications of their positions. They aren't just taking a side in a political debate; they are advocating a legal and social bias against people, against the very same friends and relatives they ostensibly treat with compassion and kindness.
So while we continue to grapple with the question of how much responsibility a bully bears for the actions of the bullied, I think we all ought to examine our own words and actions and the role they play in the long-standing and ongoing struggle faced by children and young people who are different. We have to keep our political positions in perspective, to reflect on the way the abstract translates to the tangible, individual, personal consequences. Because I believe that we can all do a better job of tending to one another, of making the already difficult undertaking of growing up just a little bit easier on every one.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Day 278- $75
Dear Mr. President,
Ok, I guess I'm a socialist. Better Red than Dead. I should probably just break down and get Lenin's face tattooed on my bicep. What can I say, I'm hopelessly pro-firefighting. And, call me unreasonable, but I think firefighting services should be available, for free, for every person in America, regardless of where they live or if they are rich, poor, middle class or even Republican. If Dino Rosi's house is on fire, I really don't mind if some of the taxes I paid this year go toward putting it out. I know we don't really have HUAC any more, but I'm sure Michele Bachmann can whip something up to take care of me, right?
I'm writing in reference to a house fire in Tennessee. Because one home owner failed to pay the $75 rural residents are required to pay per year for firefighting services, his house burned to the ground. The man offered to pay for any expenses the firefighters might incur, and he was refused. The firefighters put out the part of the blaze that spread to his fee-paying neighbor's home, but sat outside in trucks with the necessary equipment to save his home and watched it burn.
If there's one policy area where you'd think that people could come together on, firefighting seems like it ought to be a strong contender. I do understand that this man's house was outside of city limits and so the fee for protecting him was to make up for the fact that his taxes didn't fund the fire department as those of city residents did. I get this. But when the moment comes and the firefighters are faced with a fire and don't put it out over $75, well, I think that something important is being missed. Emergency services should help people first, and worry about jurisdiction or expense after. Send the homeowner a bill, for God's sake. The fact that some people on the right are suggesting this man had it coming really upsets me. Forgive me, but what the hell kind of country is this? Whatever happened to love thy neighbor? Also, not to continually kick the issue of federal defense spending, but maybe if we were spending less money burning other countries to the ground, state and local emergency services wouldn't be quite so strapped for cash. Maybe we should apply this logic at the Federal level and stop offering tax evaders the services of the Federal government. Cease their mail delivery, refuse to allow them to fly or drive on federal highways and deny them Social Security.
While I may decry the policies that led to this, I have to indict the behavior of the firefighters themselves, as well. We have an obligation to help one another to the best of our abilities, on the clock or off. I don't have a whole lot of useful skills, but when I saw an old woman being assaulted at the bus stop, I stepped in to stop her assailant. Because I could. Because I have the training and the ability. My coworker is red-cross certified in First Aid, and you can bet he'd be the first to step up in a medical emergency, regardless of his likelihood of being compensated. My roommate speaks Spanish and will step up to translate for customers struggling to be understood. We all have skills and abilities and we all have a moral obligation to use those skills to help one another. These firefighters were trained professionals with the equipment (and also the time) to help put out the fire in this man's house and they refused to. That's shameful as public servants and shameful as human beings. Conservatives can spin and wring their hands and quote Ayn Rand all they want; at the end of the day there is right and there is wrong, damn it, and sometimes we're lucky enough know the difference.
So paint me red and call me comrade, because I guess I've been a socialist all along.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Ok, I guess I'm a socialist. Better Red than Dead. I should probably just break down and get Lenin's face tattooed on my bicep. What can I say, I'm hopelessly pro-firefighting. And, call me unreasonable, but I think firefighting services should be available, for free, for every person in America, regardless of where they live or if they are rich, poor, middle class or even Republican. If Dino Rosi's house is on fire, I really don't mind if some of the taxes I paid this year go toward putting it out. I know we don't really have HUAC any more, but I'm sure Michele Bachmann can whip something up to take care of me, right?
I'm writing in reference to a house fire in Tennessee. Because one home owner failed to pay the $75 rural residents are required to pay per year for firefighting services, his house burned to the ground. The man offered to pay for any expenses the firefighters might incur, and he was refused. The firefighters put out the part of the blaze that spread to his fee-paying neighbor's home, but sat outside in trucks with the necessary equipment to save his home and watched it burn.
If there's one policy area where you'd think that people could come together on, firefighting seems like it ought to be a strong contender. I do understand that this man's house was outside of city limits and so the fee for protecting him was to make up for the fact that his taxes didn't fund the fire department as those of city residents did. I get this. But when the moment comes and the firefighters are faced with a fire and don't put it out over $75, well, I think that something important is being missed. Emergency services should help people first, and worry about jurisdiction or expense after. Send the homeowner a bill, for God's sake. The fact that some people on the right are suggesting this man had it coming really upsets me. Forgive me, but what the hell kind of country is this? Whatever happened to love thy neighbor? Also, not to continually kick the issue of federal defense spending, but maybe if we were spending less money burning other countries to the ground, state and local emergency services wouldn't be quite so strapped for cash. Maybe we should apply this logic at the Federal level and stop offering tax evaders the services of the Federal government. Cease their mail delivery, refuse to allow them to fly or drive on federal highways and deny them Social Security.
While I may decry the policies that led to this, I have to indict the behavior of the firefighters themselves, as well. We have an obligation to help one another to the best of our abilities, on the clock or off. I don't have a whole lot of useful skills, but when I saw an old woman being assaulted at the bus stop, I stepped in to stop her assailant. Because I could. Because I have the training and the ability. My coworker is red-cross certified in First Aid, and you can bet he'd be the first to step up in a medical emergency, regardless of his likelihood of being compensated. My roommate speaks Spanish and will step up to translate for customers struggling to be understood. We all have skills and abilities and we all have a moral obligation to use those skills to help one another. These firefighters were trained professionals with the equipment (and also the time) to help put out the fire in this man's house and they refused to. That's shameful as public servants and shameful as human beings. Conservatives can spin and wring their hands and quote Ayn Rand all they want; at the end of the day there is right and there is wrong, damn it, and sometimes we're lucky enough know the difference.
So paint me red and call me comrade, because I guess I've been a socialist all along.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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