This IS My Country, Damn it

My first memory, when it comes to politics, is of asking my parents what the bumper sticker on our car meant. It read, “Don't blame me, I'm from Massachusetts!” And Massachusetts was where we were, but I didn't understand why that would have anything to do with blame – why would the place you lived, the place you came from, have anything to do with what kind of person you are?

I'm re-reading that right now and realizing that even at all of six years old or so, I had a better grasp on that concept than a terrifyingly large portion of my fellow citizens do right now. Which is honestly heartrendingly sad. But I digress.

Anyway, my dad told me that the bumper sticker was kind of a sarcastic joke. He explained that President Nixon (who may or may not have still been in office at that point, this would have been right around the time he resigned) was a bad man who had done very bad things while he was in office, and broken a bunch of laws. And the bumper sticker was because, of all the states in the country, only Massachusetts hadn't voted for him.

That was my introduction to liberal politics.

I had a pair of hippies for parents, in a manner of speaking. I grew up in a house filled with Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and the smell of marijuana. My parent's friends were the same – most of the men wore their hair long, as did most of the women, usually in embroidered blouses with tiny round mirrors sewn into them. And everyone shared basically the same world-view. War is bad, nuclear power is dangerous, clean water and clean air are things we have to have to survive and people who would pollute those resources must be stopped, every time. And most of all, above everything else, that we had an obligation to care for everyone, no matter where they came from, or who they loved, or how much money they did or didn't have.

All of this is to say that by the time I reached my not-quite teens, I was a budding, true-blue, East Coast Liberal all the way down to my bones. My Boston-bred dad taught me about the issues, and my British-born mother instilled in me an undying love for the documents that made up the basis for our government, the Declaration and the Constitution.

She adored those papers, and what they stood for, a country built on the premise that everyone should be equally able to direct their lives as they wish, with “rulers” who were chosen by, and beholden to, the people they ruled over. She, of course, had grown up in a country where birth was the factor that determined who would sit in the seats of power, and she made sure that her children knew how lucky we were to grow up in a place where anyone, even people like us, could one day sit in the highest seat in our government.

I grew up proud of the place I was born. Proud of its natural beauty, its incredible diversity, proud that we were the place that every other country looked to, where so many wanted to be. And they were welcomed. There was even a huge statue set to greet those dream-filled travelers, the woman who lifted her lamp beside the golden door. The first time I went to New York City and actually saw her for myself, I cried. I cry when I look at her today. But they are no longer tears of joy and wonder. Now they're tears of grief and sorrow.

Somewhere along the line, at some point between the time when we truly believed that the person occupying that highest seat of all should be a person with the highest standards, a person of good character... and now, when the person in that seat exemplifies the lowest, basest behavior of the most unprincipled among us... somewhere in there, something changed. My country changed. Where we once had empathy, we now glorify hatred. Where we once welcomed others, we now build walls. Where we one cherished children, we now use them as game pieces on a giant board. Where we once promised to lift everyone up to be on equal footing, we now tear people down. And, not satisfied with that, we then kick them, make them bleed, and when they cry out, we laugh cruelly and turn away.

This is not my country. Those are not my people.

Yes, they were always there. No, neither our government nor our citizens have fully lived up to those ideals I grew up living, and loving. But once, we fought those who didn't live up to those ideals. One, we had leaders who spoke up and said no more, we will not allow mistreatment to stand unopposed.

Now, our leaders encourage that behavior, model for an entire population. Our president picks fights on social media. Our official White House spokesperson spreads lies about sitting legislators. A full third of our country worship a man who would stomp their faces into the mud if there's another dollar in it for him, and far too many of those are not just willing, but chomping at the bit to gun down their neighbors if he gives them the nod.

We can fix this. We can. We've done it before, when people like this have gotten cocky, believed themselves to be so firmly in the right to have no compunctions about showing their hatred and contempt for others they consider “less than”. It won't be easy, and it will be messy, but it can be done.

But we can't go at it halfway, tentatively. People who hate like that, they don't respond to reason. They only respond to strength. That third of the country? They're bullies. And as every bullied child knows, the advice your parents probably gave you – just ignore them – doesn't work. Being kind to a bully doesn't work – ask any abused spouse. A bully won't stop until he's too afraid to continue.

We need to make them afraid again. We need to stand up and tell them, to their faces, that their behavior will not be tolerated. And then we need to back it up. The same way my parents backed it up the last time we had a bad man in the White House. 

Let's make this our country again. Let's just be people again.

We can do this.