The Aftermath of Las Vegas: Recognizing our Own Role in a National Tragedy

I honestly don't know how to comprehend today.

When I woke up and heard of the horrors that took place in Las Vegas, I was heartsick.  My first thought was "How could something like this happen?"

My second was a prayer for the victims and their families.

My third was "What excuses will people make this time?"

I dreaded going onto any social media sites because I was afraid that, among the heartfelt prayers and acknowledgements of the tragedy, I would also see excuses being made, accusations being thrown, and a side-stepping of the issues underlying this terrible event.

Or worse, I'd see nothing.  I'd see that we, as a society, have given up.

We need better gun control, and greater support for the mentally ill in this country.  That's it, the end.  I don't want to get into arguments with anyone about this right now.  Those facts are not the point of this post.  Those discussions...those arguments...will be had over and over again in the coming weeks, I'm sure, just as they've been had over and over again following every mass shooting that has happened in this country.

There's a bigger problem, though, that I want to focus on because it's one that no one talks about.  I think it's because no one wants to put a spotlight on it and highlight one of our greatest shames.

It's us.  It's we, the people.

It's the society we've allowed to build up around us.  The awful things we've normalized for ourselves.

It's our lack of empathy.

Our lack of reason.

Our lack of compassion.

Our lack of recognition that the world does not revolve around us.

We are selfish.  We are bullies.  We value our own privileges and comforts far more than the lives and well-beings of others.

You might be reading this and thinking, "That's not me!  I care!"  And I have no doubt that you do.

Individually, most of us aren't terrible people.  Most of us are good, loving, and just want the world to be a better place.

But have you ever avoided a conversation about gun control because it made you uncomfortable, or you didn't want to get "too political"?  Have you ever voted for someone you know has cut or plans to cut mental health services or support programs for the poor and disabled?  Have you ever hidden behind the words "We can't know God's plan" because it takes the responsibility to create change out of your own hands?

We might not think our actions and reservations have much effect on an individual level, but we don't exist in a vacuum.  We impact the way our society is shaped, even the things we don't say or do leave a mark, and our society reproduces the values and norms we feed into it.

What do the values and norms we see within our society say about us as a people?

As a whole we're broken.  As a collective, as a nation, we've created a society where this kind of tragedy is allowed to happen...and not just once.

It's allowed to happen again...and again...and again...

Las Vegas may be the deadliest, but it's not an anomaly.  Mass shootings have became a part of the cultural landscape of this country...and it's our own fault.

We don't care enough.  Not as a whole.  If we as a nation truly wanted to stop these tragedies from happening, we'd figure out a way to do it.  We'd come together...we'd work together.  We'd stop making excuses and actually do something.

The facts are we need more sensible gun control and greater support and care for the mentally ill.

But we also need more compassion.

More reason.

More empathy.

We need to see that this isn't an individual issue.  This isn't about us on a personal level, but about all of us together.  We need to recognize the broken society we've erected around ourselves and how deadly it's become.

These types of horrors will continue to plague us until we recognize that we, as a whole, need to step back and look at how we are systemically failing.  As individuals, we can send prayers, we can work to change laws, or keep them the same, but if we can't figure out how to work together...how to hold each other up rather than tearing each other down over and over again, nothing's going to get better.

We have a major problem in this country...we simply don't care.

This isn't how I originally intended this post to go.  I wanted to offer a prayer, some words of comfort for those struggling to wrap their minds around Las Vegas, but then I realized I'd said it all before.  I'd prayed it all before.  That doesn't mean I'll stop praying.  I will pray that the victims and families are able to find some comfort and hope in God, or whatever they maintain gives them life and purpose.  I'll continue to pray for this nation in a desperate hope that we figure it out and are able to heal ourselves.  I don't want to hide behind those prayers, though.  I don't want to say I've offered them, and then think I've somehow done my part.  I don't want people to just speak some nice words that give more comfort to the ones saying them than the actual victims and think that's enough.  More than prayers, right now we need a reality check.  We need to recognize this kind of thing isn't just going to go away, or that because we have not been personally affected that we can just easily forget it and go on with our lives.

Tragedies like Las Vegas will only keep happening until we as a collective come together and say "enough"...and actually mean it.

We have to refuse to let this be a norm in our society.  We have to refuse to let ourselves grow numb to it.

Until that day comes, until we can see beyond our own tiny worlds and understand that we're part of something bigger than ourselves, that we should care about something other than ourselves, nothing will change.  Nothing will get better.  It will only be more of the same.

Pray for Las Vegas.  Pray for our nation.  But then actually do something to make it better.

Amen.

Erin B.

When Art Speaks for the People: A Response to the Aftermath of the "Hamilton" Statement

Art is a unique and often underrated treasure in any society.  For most, we don't visit museums to learn about the economic and political structures of societies past (although some do, don't get me wrong).  We visit museums to see the art that was left behind.  We pay for overpriced tickets to see the Mona Lisa, Michelangelo's David, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and Starry Night.  Throughout history, people have risked their lives to protect art from destruction, from burying Celtic crosses in Ireland during the Reformation, to forming special forces groups (The Monuments Men) in World War II to retrieve and hide artwork from the Nazis.  One of the first things to be criticized, banished, boycotted, or rejected in any society where the government is trying to assert absolute control over its people is art.  Artists are arrested and tortured, books are burned, murals and paintings destroyed, and theater productions shut down or censored because they dare to challenge the status quo.  Why?  Because art, in all its forms - music, painting, sculpture, writing, theater, etc. - is meant to challenge us and make us think.  It's meant to stir a person's deepest emotions, tell a story in a new and striking way, and express the greatest thoughts and concerns of its creator.  Sometimes, art does much more than this.  Sometimes, art is used to raise up the voices of the voiceless, publicly criticize injustice, oppression, and violence, and inspire bravery in those who wish to see the world change for the better.

That is what Hamilton: An American Musical is all about.

From it's conception, Hamilton was always meant to tell the story of America by Americans.  That's why it's creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda, was so intentional about having a diverse cast, and about having diverse forms of music, most prominently rap, which he called "the music of the revolution."  Hamilton's story is one about standing up against oppressive forces that try to control us, and overcoming nearly impossible odds to "take our shot" and "rise up" in order to change the world.  It's an amazing piece of art that has been recognized worldwide as being inventive, challenging, and for telling a story that is just as relevant today as it was in 1776.  It's the story about an immigrant who came to the United States, fought for everything he had, was opposed at nearly ever step along the way, but never quit advancing and doing what he believed was right.  Alexander Hamilton himself was a flawed, hot-headed individual who is not without his critics today, but his story of revolution and the building of a nation for all Americans is one that continues to be lived out in our modern world.

When Hamilton's Broadway cast spoke after their November 18th show to Vice-President elect Mike Pence, they weren't only following the path of artists and artwork before them that spoke the concerns of the people.  They were also living up to the tradition of their namesake, Alexander Hamilton, and the rest of the Founding Fathers.  This is a nation built on protest and revolution, on opposing forces that threaten the well-being of all of its citizens.  So, it was not out-of-line for the cast of Hamilton to raise those concerns to Vice-President elect Pence.  What was out-of-line was for President-elect Trump to demand an apology.  What is out-of-line is all those now calling for a boycott of the show.  What was out-of-line was the individual who interrupted a performance of the Chicago show by shouting profanities and saying "we won, you lost, get over it."

Never mind that the statement by the New York cast was actually quite polite and respectful while at the same time remaining raw and honest about people's concerns.  Never mind that Vice-President elect Mike Pence has said he "wasn't offended" and actually really enjoyed the show.  It's actually not even a fundamentally wrong thing for people to want to boycott the show as a result, because it's their right to do so.  What is most concerning about this whole ordeal is that people do not believe the theater is an appropriate place for that kind of statement.  Trump himself tweeted that "The Theater must always be a safe and special place."  And it should be, but for those at greatest risk in society at large.  The theater, especially a show like Hamilton, is where the loudest critiques of government and society should come from for the very reason it should always be a safe and special place.

Art has always worked to hold those in power accountable for their actions.  We see this displayed in works of graffiti on city walls, in songs protesting acts of war and violence, in stories and poems written to express the fear and pain of the oppressed and subjugated.  When our nation's leaders start criticizing art and try to "keep it in it's place", try to dictate what is appropriate for it to depict, speak to, or act out, we need to be very concerned.  Being a good leader means accepting the criticism of your opposition, hearing the voices of your people most scared, and allowing dialogue to take place whether you like what is said or not.  We are a nation that claims to value freedom of speech, that allows for art to flourish and expand our collective understanding of the world we live in.  When we start trying to silence the art world, however, it's not just the artists that suffer.  We all do, because we are no longer challenged, we are no longer made to think about the world beyond ourselves.  It is the art of our society that will tell our story to future generations, and it is up to us to determine whether it will be a story about people who turned their backs on the injustice and fear surrounding them, or stood up and held those in power accountable, making them answer for their beliefs and actions.  There is a lot of work that must be done in this country, there are a lot of voices, beliefs, and opinions that must be taken into account, but it is through art that those voices, beliefs, and opinions are more widely heard and known.  So, even if you didn't agree with the cast of Hamilton's statement, you need to be ready to protect their right to make it, because someday you might need them to speak on your behalf as well.

Until next time,

Erin

The statement of the Hamilton cast, compliments of Twitter.

You Are My Neighbor - I Love You

I love you.

You are my neighbor, and I love you.

You are my brother, my sister, and I love you.

You are my friend, and I love you.

You are my enemy, and I love you.

I might not know you, but I love you.

I might not always agree with you, but I love you.

I might sometimes hate you, but I love you.

If you're Muslim, I love you.

If you're black, I love you.

If you're LGBTQ, I love you.

If you're an immigrant, I love you.

If you're poor, I love you.

If you're rich, I love you.

If you were born in my country, I love you.

If you're straight, I love you.

If you're white, I love you.

If you're Christian, I love you.

No matter your faith, your race, your orientation, your nationality, your economic status, I love you.

You are my neighbor, and I love you.

I will fight for you.  I will stand with you.  I won't let fear keep me from responding to the pain you face.  I will be your voice when your own is stolen from you.  I will stand up to those who would dismiss your fear and pain.  I will not stop when others tell me it's not my fight, or that it will all be okay.  I will recognize my own privilege, and how I benefit from your suffering, and I will spend my life working to pay you back and make it right, even if I never really can.

I love you.  I acknowledge you.  I see your suffering, and I won't turn away from it.

I will fight with you, if I have to.  I will stand opposite of you if it means protecting others from you.  I won't let fear of losing you keep me from holding you accountable for your beliefs and actions.  I will raise my voice against yours if your words are stealing the dignity and voices others.  I will stand up to you when you try to dismiss their fear and pain.  I will not stop when you tell me it's not my fight, that you're just speaking your mind, and it's not really hurting anybody anyway.  I will recognize my own privilege, and how I benefit from a wide view of the world bolstered by education and experience, and I will spend my life working to help you see the humanity in all of the people you encounter, or don't encounter, throughout this world.

I love you.  I acknowledge you.  I see your fear and suspicions, and I won't let them consume you.

I love you.  I will do whatever I can to make the world better for you.

I love you.  I will do whatever I can to make you better for the world.

You are my neighbor.

You are my friend.

You are my brother.  My sister.  My mother.  My father.

You are my enemy.

I might not know you.

I might not always agree with you.

I might even hate you.

But I will always love you. 

Working with the Fear: Responding to the Election

Today is a very emotional day in this country.  Some are feeling validated and joyous, but many others are overwhelmed by fear, confusion, and sadness.  I know there are reasons that the election happened the way it did.  I know that people voted for Trump because of strong beliefs and ideas that they didn't want to compromise on.  And while I can't agree with the decision, it was within those individual's rights to make the choice they did.  I'm not going to attack those people.  I'm not going to add fuel to a fire I already see blazing around me.  What I am going to do is try to explain the fear.  I want people to understand why, for many in this country, this election has left such terror in its wake.  I don't think there can be any kind of healing in this nation until this fear is fully addressed...and validated.


Last night, as I watched the results of the election begin to solidify Trump's position in the world, I was overcome by one terrifying thought.  I needed to make sure my brother was safe.  For anyone reading this who doesn't know me personally, I have a younger brother and sister, and we are all adopted.  My siblings are both African-American.  I feared for their safety last night, especially my brother's.  I still fear for his safety.  I texted him to tell him to be careful, that most likely nothing would happen right away, but that there was still a chance something could.  This fear is something that has been simmering inside of me for a very long time now.  I'm scared for him to be away from home because I can't guarantee he'll be safe, or that he won't encounter people that will look at him differently or treat him differently because of the color of his skin.  I can't guarantee he won't be the next innocent person shot in the streets.  I know my experience with this only scratches the surface of what it's like to be a member of a minority group in this country, because I myself am white and don't come face-to-face with this reality every day of my life.  The fear, though, the uncertainty, the sheer dread that people feel is something I can at least relate to, even in a small way, because there are people I love very much who I'm not sure are safe anymore.


People have been saying that "it's not that big of a deal", "they're just being sore losers", or "don't be so dramatic, it won't be as bad as you pretend it will be."  Maybe things won't be as terrible as I imagine they'll be.  Maybe it will have all been blown out of proportion in the long run, and it's not the downfall of the United States as so many predict it is.  That doesn't make the fear people are feeling today any less real or any less valid.  When an individual who has openly targeted immigrants, women, minorities, and his opponents is given the kind of power in the nation that Trump was elected to last night, that normalizes all those terrible things he said and did.  It makes it seem okay for everyone else to say and do those same terrible things, so those groups are of course going to be afraid.  I'm living in the reality of this fear on a college campus, where minority students don't feel safe, where immigrant students are fearful of losing their families to deportation, and where female students are fearful of how they'll be treated by their male counterparts.


I'm afraid.  I don't know what's going to happen, and the uncertainty is killing me.  I'm afraid for my brother and sister, I'm afraid for my Muslim friends, my Hispanic friends, my female friends, my LGBTQ friends.  I'm afraid of how they will be treated from this point on.  I'm afraid not only of physical violence and discriminatory legislation, but of how they will be spoken to, how they will be viewed.  I'm afraid that the Walmart greeter who smiled at all the white people but glared at my brother will be vindicated in her racism.  I'm afraid the men who think they can tell a woman how to act, dress, and speak will be vindicated in their sexism.  I'm afraid the people who mutter under their breath that "All Muslim's are terrorists" will no longer bother to keep their voices down.  I'm afraid that businesses that refuse to service LGBTQ people will be vindicated in their discrimination.  I'm afraid, not only because I think we're in danger of moving backwards politically or because the Supreme Court appointment might not be the moderate I was hoping for, but because by electing this man to the highest office in the land, we have also sent out the message that certain people are not welcome in this country, certain people are not valued in this country, and certain people are not equal in this country...and we don't ever want them to be.  Is it fair to say that all Trump supporters had this thought in mind yesterday when they cast their votes?  No, it's not.  But that is the message that comes with Trump, whether you like it or not.  That is the message he himself promoted throughout his candidacy.  It's a message of fear, and it's one that many of us are reading loud and clear today.


So, in the end, what's done is done.  No matter how this election turned out, it ultimately highlighted that this country is more divided than ever, and lives in more fear than ever.  So no matter which side you voted for, no matter your reasons for doing so, please remember that the feelings these groups have today are very real.  They are not being overly dramatic, they are not simply sore losers.  They are men, women, and children all afraid of the uncertainty of the future because they have already been targeted during this election in some form or another.  We need, more now than ever before, to show compassion to each other, to comfort each other, to reach out a hand to try and understand each other.  Recognize the fear, understand the fear, validate the reasons for the fear, and then we can try to work together to make sure fear never rules us ever again.


Until next time,
Erin   

Because Colbert is right - "You cannot laugh and be afraid at the same time"