53A — From sea to shining sea...
Today's blog will not be normal, just like today's political events were not normal. I would rather not go over my day-to-day minutia, partially because they are comparatively unimportant, and partially because they involved a feeling of disgust so strong I spent the whole day on the edge of throwing up and a grotesque feeling of being stuck which was exemplified by me staring as Senators and staff walked in and out of a backroom for forty minutes, only to result in the most minor of concessions.
This blog is not, in particular, about the Kavanaugh confirmation. (Although I am particularly annoyed by the Senate's "dilemma" over where the ethical bar should be for the most important judgeship in the country. We have reasonably credible reasons to believe Ford, and reasonably credible reasons to disbelieve Kavanaugh. What more do you need?) Rather, it is about a deep-seated disillusionment with the systemic properties of American culture and politics which over and over prove its deeply seated flaws. This event is only the last straw on top of many, many others which sort of just poured forth today. These issues all enmeshed in each other, until I was confronted with the sad facts of reality.
These musings started today during the Pledge of Allegiance, which, personally, I have always found mildly strange. I ended my Pledge at "to the Republic for which it stands" today, because, at this point in our history, I believe no part of the rest of it.
"One nation." Bah. At this point, it seems like we live in different worlds, not to mention nations. This is not just the division of politics and interpretations of facts in these events. It is fundamental. The privileged, upper middle class student in Rapid City, South Dakota, has exactly zero context about the world of urban poverty, and almost negative interest in digging beneath the stereotypes they seem to have.
"Under God." As an agnostic, I don't know whether or not God exists. But if this country is still under Him, then God is either dead or has given up on us.
"Indivisible." The acerbic partisan politics over non-issues makes this adjective a farce.
"With liberty and justice for all." Perhaps there is liberty and justice for all—but certainly not the same kind of justice or liberty. And, if Kavanaugh is confirmed, we can only be sure that this distribution will falter further.
The words of the pledge have never seemed more hollow to me than today, and their hollowness now just reminds me of a sort of brainwashing. If we say the problem doesn't exist, then it doesn't. Ta-da!
I couldn't tell today if this annoyed me more or if the sheer ignorance and apathy of my fellow students did. This person will make decisions that affect generations to come—especially ours. This person will decide whether not people will be discriminated against by businesses because of who they love; this person will re-litigate Roe for the umpteenth time; this person will decide whether or not colleges have the right to create diverse educational communities; this person will decide what your civil freedoms and liberties mean in the eyes of the law. Surely, we ought to hold this person to the highest standards possible. Surely, we ought to think about it and debate it and discuss it, instead of staying unaware. If you don't care because you aren't American and these decisions don't directly affect you, fine. But for everyone else, we must care, because to not do so disadvantages yourself and everyone around you.
Now, to a slightly different topic that I drifted into as the day went on. Perhaps this is self-indulgent in that it focused on personal identity, but I couldn't help thinking about how my own identity has been ostracized and separated, whether by apathy or ignorance or actual malice. As a queer person of color, as a second-generation immigrant, actively discussing this is extremely important, lest we be silenced. Telling your story, so that it can be heard and acknowledged, and so that others can take solace in the fact that they are not alone, is essential.
I hesitate to use the term person of color—I have often been told that Chinese people or Asians in general "don't count as people of color." It is certainly true that our struggles are less than those of others. To me, however, this exemplifies my experience in my identity. I am defined by others not what I am, but what I am not. I am not white, but I am not a person of color. Unlike my parents, I am not truly Chinese, but I am also not truly American. ("Where are you really from?") I am not straight, but I am not gay. To be something is tiring. To be average is monotonous. To be nothing is utterly and completely exhausting. It almost feels like my definition varies by context; I am this to one group of people, that to another, and then something completely different to a third.
I say this because this exclusionary method hurts. It puts us at a disadvantage, it makes us feel unwanted, it leaves us vulnerable and unwilling to speak. And if that is how I, a boy from a middle-class family with a relatively okay life feel, then what are the people with bigger problems and struggles (and there are many) feeling. How is it, that in our society, we have still so many lost and left behind? This is what truly astounds me. I could afford to spend three dollars on ice cream that I didn't need today, in 40 degree weather, because I felt sad as a result of these problems that affect me less directly than they do others. How are other people coping? How can we make them go through this? How can we be so blind to others? Something must change.
Pragmatism and working within a system where the gravity is so squarely placed towards the status quo and incrementalism can not and will not work in a society which is unable to and refuses to look within itself and acknowledge the people who are suffering, to hear their individual stories, and to plan a course of action. We must fight—through our words, through our votes, through our protests—and we must act ourselves—through charity, through inclusive discussion, through volunteering, through meaningful work—if anything is to change. Sharing your own story is important, but it's through inspiring and listening to those of others that we can truly find each other.
A brief post-script: If only I could channel and condense this into a message fit for college essays.
This blog is not, in particular, about the Kavanaugh confirmation. (Although I am particularly annoyed by the Senate's "dilemma" over where the ethical bar should be for the most important judgeship in the country. We have reasonably credible reasons to believe Ford, and reasonably credible reasons to disbelieve Kavanaugh. What more do you need?) Rather, it is about a deep-seated disillusionment with the systemic properties of American culture and politics which over and over prove its deeply seated flaws. This event is only the last straw on top of many, many others which sort of just poured forth today. These issues all enmeshed in each other, until I was confronted with the sad facts of reality.
These musings started today during the Pledge of Allegiance, which, personally, I have always found mildly strange. I ended my Pledge at "to the Republic for which it stands" today, because, at this point in our history, I believe no part of the rest of it.
"One nation." Bah. At this point, it seems like we live in different worlds, not to mention nations. This is not just the division of politics and interpretations of facts in these events. It is fundamental. The privileged, upper middle class student in Rapid City, South Dakota, has exactly zero context about the world of urban poverty, and almost negative interest in digging beneath the stereotypes they seem to have.
"Under God." As an agnostic, I don't know whether or not God exists. But if this country is still under Him, then God is either dead or has given up on us.
"Indivisible." The acerbic partisan politics over non-issues makes this adjective a farce.
"With liberty and justice for all." Perhaps there is liberty and justice for all—but certainly not the same kind of justice or liberty. And, if Kavanaugh is confirmed, we can only be sure that this distribution will falter further.
The words of the pledge have never seemed more hollow to me than today, and their hollowness now just reminds me of a sort of brainwashing. If we say the problem doesn't exist, then it doesn't. Ta-da!
I couldn't tell today if this annoyed me more or if the sheer ignorance and apathy of my fellow students did. This person will make decisions that affect generations to come—especially ours. This person will decide whether not people will be discriminated against by businesses because of who they love; this person will re-litigate Roe for the umpteenth time; this person will decide whether or not colleges have the right to create diverse educational communities; this person will decide what your civil freedoms and liberties mean in the eyes of the law. Surely, we ought to hold this person to the highest standards possible. Surely, we ought to think about it and debate it and discuss it, instead of staying unaware. If you don't care because you aren't American and these decisions don't directly affect you, fine. But for everyone else, we must care, because to not do so disadvantages yourself and everyone around you.
Now, to a slightly different topic that I drifted into as the day went on. Perhaps this is self-indulgent in that it focused on personal identity, but I couldn't help thinking about how my own identity has been ostracized and separated, whether by apathy or ignorance or actual malice. As a queer person of color, as a second-generation immigrant, actively discussing this is extremely important, lest we be silenced. Telling your story, so that it can be heard and acknowledged, and so that others can take solace in the fact that they are not alone, is essential.
I hesitate to use the term person of color—I have often been told that Chinese people or Asians in general "don't count as people of color." It is certainly true that our struggles are less than those of others. To me, however, this exemplifies my experience in my identity. I am defined by others not what I am, but what I am not. I am not white, but I am not a person of color. Unlike my parents, I am not truly Chinese, but I am also not truly American. ("Where are you really from?") I am not straight, but I am not gay. To be something is tiring. To be average is monotonous. To be nothing is utterly and completely exhausting. It almost feels like my definition varies by context; I am this to one group of people, that to another, and then something completely different to a third.
I say this because this exclusionary method hurts. It puts us at a disadvantage, it makes us feel unwanted, it leaves us vulnerable and unwilling to speak. And if that is how I, a boy from a middle-class family with a relatively okay life feel, then what are the people with bigger problems and struggles (and there are many) feeling. How is it, that in our society, we have still so many lost and left behind? This is what truly astounds me. I could afford to spend three dollars on ice cream that I didn't need today, in 40 degree weather, because I felt sad as a result of these problems that affect me less directly than they do others. How are other people coping? How can we make them go through this? How can we be so blind to others? Something must change.
Pragmatism and working within a system where the gravity is so squarely placed towards the status quo and incrementalism can not and will not work in a society which is unable to and refuses to look within itself and acknowledge the people who are suffering, to hear their individual stories, and to plan a course of action. We must fight—through our words, through our votes, through our protests—and we must act ourselves—through charity, through inclusive discussion, through volunteering, through meaningful work—if anything is to change. Sharing your own story is important, but it's through inspiring and listening to those of others that we can truly find each other.
A brief post-script: If only I could channel and condense this into a message fit for college essays.
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