#17: Smoke

Apparently, Fred Phelps died. I won't lie: I think the world is a little brighter without his footprint, though his actions will continue to reverberate for a long time. I'll admit: it's easy for me to let him slip from my mind. He never directly hurt me. I think his mission was disgusting, but my existence was not called a pestilence of the earth.

Last week, an old friend un-friended me on Facebook. I don't totally know why--though I have my guesses. I'm Mennonite, a pacifist, and in general fairly liberal. I'm not saying this friend isn't some of those things, but I think one too many peacenik-y links on Facebook was too many. I've written this friend twice since I was dumped, but the lack of response to both tells me it's over for the foreseeable future. I've had a busy week, so I haven't had a lot of time to reflect on this turn of events. I've finally had a minute to consider the end of the relationship: how I'd valued the fact that we were people with differing views who still managed to remain friends; how we talked about what we had in common rather than what we didn't; how I was a fool to think this friend valued our friendship as much as I did.

My temptation is to send one more message of anger and frustration, and spew the darkest bile at this friend, which is probably what some of Fred's victims want to do. This, of course, is on a much smaller scale than the anger of the LGBTQ community, and I don't mean to imply that this friend's behavior is anywhere near his behavior. It just made me realize how easy it is to let plain old hurt get the better of me.  I know that to let anger and hate pour from my fingers only hurts me in the end.

When I took the final driving test for my license, a wall of smoke from a field fire suddenly surrounded the car. I wanted so badly to hit the brakes, but I knew there were at least three cars behind me. So I carefully slowed down and drove through the smoke. The instructor said how calm I seemed and how I'd made the right decision. I think he was a bit surprised. I didn't admit it at the time, but I felt anything but calm. Somehow my body decided not to obey the frantic calls from my brain to stop. Frankly, I think that wall of smoke was the only reason I passed the test, because I nearly turned into oncoming traffic an hour later!

I hope I keep steady and that my fingers refuse to do what's in my mind.

#16: R4 in the Heart of a Mennonite Community

An African American-owned restaurant demolished in Harrisonburg, Va.

This is an edited version of another letter I sent to Ervin Stutzman, executive director of MCUSA. 

MCUSA, whether we like it or not, is at a crossroads, and it's difficult to be at the helm when this happens. But I'm ashamed of how the Mennonite church has dealt with issues of racism and sexism in the past (and present), and I think it's better for us to be at the forefront of change rather than waiting for it to be okay in the rest of the world and then change.

When I was a student at Eastern Mennonite University, I learned that the city of Harrisonburg demolished entire African American neighborhoods in the name of progress during segregation. I wrote a story about this for the campus paper, The Weather Vane. (I don't have a copy of my article, but Lauren McKinney wrote about Proposition R4 in Eightyone.) At one point, I interviewed professors who were around during this time, and asked them what the Mennonite church said or did about this injustice. One looked embarrassed and said they thought it was a good thing at the time. 

People were routed from their homes and the Mennonite church did nothing to stop it. It was ingrained in the Mennonites of Harrisonburg (big proponents of community) that African Americans needed to be relocated for economic progress, and that their community was not important. It has been ingrained in Mennonites of many places that people who do not fit the sexual norm are not of God's creation and at best should be celibate.

We are all racist, homophobic, sexist people at one time or another, whether we mean to be or not. Anyone who thinks they are not these things at some point in their lives is kidding themselves. I think we need to recognize these things in ourselves rather than push it away. It is only when we are honest about one's actions or feelings that we can change. 

I live in the Bronx. My neighborhood is like the UN. I am often the only white face on the bus or subway. I am aware of the different races around me. I used to be embarrassed by this awareness. But now I accept it and I know that the best way to change is to embrace my race and the races of those around me. I try to see my beauty and their beauty, and hope to see our beauty together some day. I smile at those around me, and more often than not, I receive a smile back. I think if more people who are against the official inclusion of LGBTQ members would simply smile at these members and get to know them as people, we would be on a more progressive path. 

#15: My Walden, Your Walden

More than a decade ago, I visited Walden Pond with some friends. Before we arrived, I had some rather romantic visions of what Walden Pond would be like: quiet; secluded; stretches of grassy embankments perfect for a picnic or a nap; quaint woods for a blithe hike.

It was none of those things. Instead, it reminded me of the Reservoir near where I grew up, with brackish water, the scent of garbage and port-a-podies, gravelly beaches, and hundreds of shrieking children.

I've been thinking about that day at Walden as I think about morals. A few weeks ago, as I was convalescing from a nasty cold, I got into a Facebook tiff about morals, and whether there is a scale of morality. Is one activity, like shooting up heroin (the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman was the jumping off point), more immoral than other self-damaging activities, like eating a lot of fatty food? Is dying of an overdose more immoral than dying of disease due to eating habits? It ended, as all great Facebook arguments, at an impasse, where everyone came out of it feeling smug and self-righteous--myself included.

But I am still thinking about it, and am trying to decide why I think that they are both immoral. I am thinking about this while I think about how the real Walden didn't live up to my dreams.

I never really thought the Reservoir was bad when I was growing up. I have happy memories of digging in the sand, swimming in the murky water, and sleeping in my grandparents' RV. It was only later, in my teens and twenties, that I began to deride it, even as I still came out for a swim, a canoe ride, or a chat and a beer with my brothers. I suppose that those who live around Walden Pond feel the same way. They enjoyed it as children, and even when they realized its flaws, they still packed up their coolers and came out.

It's easier to accept something's flaws when it is familiar, and easier to demonize something that is not familiar. When I first learned about needle exchanges, I had my pious doubts about the morality of such operations. But when I saw (through Tom, who started working at one as a volunteer, and is now an overdose prevention director at the same agency) what good it did, I was convinced of its worth. Mingling with the participants at the agency also did wonders for my pious self. Suddenly, I was in contact with those who are the faceless statistics on drug use, HIV, Hep C, etc. Suddenly, I could not judge from afar anymore. How could I say that the friendly whitebearded dude was an immoral person, when he came up to me and smiled as if just seeing me had made his day? Even if he was going to ask for some money the next second, I knew his smile would remain on his face when I said no.

Had anyone said to my childhood self that eating a burger and fries every day was immoral, I would've laughed and thought they were secretly un-American. I might have admitted it to be unhealthy, but it was so common, it seemed perfectly normal behavior. Everyone else was doing it, so how could it be bad?

I'm not saying it's moral to use heroin. I'm not saying it's immoral to eat fatty food. It isn't the actions that are moral/immoral. They both can lead to devastation down the road. Whether you die of a heroin overdose or a heart attack because you ate fatty foods--you're still dead. You've still abandoned your family much too soon.