Last week, I ran into a former teaching colleague, and the conversation included our sadness over the war in Gaza. As we started on our separate ways, her parting line was, “It’s hard to be a Jew right now.”
“Right now?” I thought to myself afterwards. “It’s hard to be a Jew right now, as opposed to how it’s been for centuries?”
Of course, her point was, it’s especially hard to be a Jew right now. This isn’t a difficult time just for Jews, though. It is also tough for the Islamic and LGBTQ+ communities, for migrants from just about anywhere, for Native and Asian Americans, and potentially for any people who look, dress or speak differently. As always, there are challenges for Blacks and others whose skin tone suggests their ancestors didn’t come from western Europe.
If we thought all the hatred was far away, the Thanksgiving weekend shooting of three college students of Palestinian descent, who were visiting relatives in Burlington, dispels that. The three men, two of whom are American citizens, were simply walking down the street. They were speaking English and Arabic and wearing keffiyehs, the traditional Palestinian scarf, raising the specter this may have been a hate crime.
We have been slowly making progress, but we are still a long way from fulfilling the verse tens of millions of us recited in school daily while growing up: “one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
There are many reasons our nation is so deeply divided and that hate speech and crimes are on the rise; the pace of social change is not the reason for the chasm, but it has intensified the situation. If you are someone who is being held back or someone who is dedicated to making the promise of America real for everyone, change can’t come fast enough; however, if you’re not in one of the groups getting attention, if you’re feeling ignored, slighted or left behind, those changes may foster resentment.
For years, we have witnessed the increased frustrations and anger of tens of millions of Americans who long for their vision of a past world in which they felt more comfortable. For some, debating women’s equality was a stretch, but now the issues around the LGBTQ+ community have confused and upset them. How can someone who used to be a boy and is built like a boy, now be a girl and play girls’ sports? Why do we say “pregnant person” instead of “pregnant woman?” How can schools and libraries let children read books that promote gay relationships and that question the greatness of American heroes? What about these revised, leftist versions of history that portray westward expansion as the annihilation of Indigenous peoples, and suggest that Black people whose ancestors were enslaved 150 years ago should now be compensated?
Although we may strongly disagree on these issues, we are wrong to belittle the concerns of people who don’t see them the way we do. Change is hard. Giving up beliefs you grew up with — that you were taught at home, in church or at school — is hard. Living in a world that feels increasingly alien is hard.
We appreciate how difficult being excluded or discriminated against is for migrants, the LGBTQ+ community, religious groups, Blacks, and others who are not and have not been treated fairly; however, often we do extend the same respect to people who are on a different place on the path to understanding. They might have those same feelings, and life is hard for them, too.
Speaking as someone on the moderate/liberal/progressive side of the continuum, I worry we sometimes dismiss, offend and alienate the millions of Americans who are having a hard time accepting where our society is going. We groan when we feel they are being fed, and are believing, fake news, and sometimes we openly look down on them. Then we wonder why tens of millions support a man who is grossly unqualified to be president and who flatly rejects the ideals of justice and equality for all. But he claims he is standing up for them, while no one else is, and he doesn’t believe any of those leftist lies; he is listening.
One curse of running for national office is being watched every moment, with the omnipresent danger that an unthought-out, off-the-cuff remark will become big news. Although I voted for Hillary Clinton in the General Election and like her, her misstep in calling her opponent’s followers “deplorables” did enormous damage. Her opponent’s supporters already believed that’s what liberals thought of them, and she put it on the record.
When Europeans came to America, they ignorantly presumed that, because Indigenous peoples lacked European refinement and culture, they were lesser humans. Similarly, as those white Europeans became white Americans, they viewed the Black people they enslaved as lesser humans. As a nation, in very calculated fashion, we held Indigenous and enslaved Americans down, disrupted families, kept them in poverty, and ensured few would have the same opportunities as the dominant white society. This continued after slavery ended.
Today, as powers shift, millions of white Americans feel their values and way of life are under attack, and that their concerns and fears are being ignored. Compounding this, millions are trapped in generational poverty. In some respects, some of us are making the same mistake with poor, white Americans and those with conservative world views that earlier generations did with Indigenous and Black Americans: we’re assuming they are lesser, and we know better. We don’t give them respect as full humans. Why wouldn’t they be as angry?
We should not back down on our goal of “liberty and justice for all,” and we should not accept violence from anyone. We can help to reduce the bitterness and the divide by listening and trying to understand people who have different views and often different backgrounds, life circumstances and challenges, than we do. Regardless of our political and social views, if, in our heart of hearts, we see those who disagree with us as deplorables, we have already shut our minds — and hearts.
In the spirit of peace, love, joy and goodwill to all, this is a good time to commit to respecting and genuinely listening to others, especially those on any part of the political spectrum whom we see as different. As a nation, we are deeply divided and we deeply need to mend. We are not going to get to the Promised Land, so to speak, unless we do.
It is hard to be human right now. It always is.
Tom McKone lives in Montpelier.
