BOOMER. RANG.

I was only seventeen when Reagan won his second term in 1984. An unapologetic newly minted Republican by ideology, even if my date of birth fell several months short of the age needed to lend my support to the party. Not that the party needed me. Reagan won by a landslide. By the time Reagan left office, I was in college and already disillusioned with the GOP. Reagan had used his immense popularity to build a coalition with what would become known as the "religious right" and had effectively blackmailed all fifty states into changing their various drinking ages to twenty-one by threatening to withhold federal highway funds until the states complied.

From the perspective of a twenty-one year old, gone was the "new federalist" president, champion of states rights and small government and in his place was this moralizing old dude who was telling everyone how to live. That may seem like oversimplification, but history would will out my instinct, as Bush I won the election of 1988 and proceeded to legislate and moralize for another four years. By the time 1992 rolled around, from my vantage point, there was little discernible difference between the two major parties. Basically, each party would find a few causes to preach to the public about, in an escalating effort to tell everyone what to believe in. Animal rights. Fetal rights. AIDS. Africa. Farmers. Explicit lyrics in music (that's on you, Gore supporters) with each passing year, the list grew, seemingly endless in its demand that the American public stop being so selfish and care about whatever cause each party decided to showcase.

Political variance between our two parties with regard to morality is nothing new. But what was changing, was that the Republican Party, which had traditionally favored the idea of allowing states and communities to make decisions which closely affected them, was now asserting federal control in new arenas. "Conservative" senators were voting to pass helmet and seatbelt laws. There was bipartisan agreement about labeling albums to warn parents of vulgar content. Because, you know, it's too much to ask for a parent to do any level of research about anything themselves. Let's just turn it over to the Feds to set an arbitrary standard of decency for us! These concepts are so commonplace now, the idea of them being watershed in any way seems preposterous. These seem like small, common sense issues which are no big deal, so why NOT let the government regulate such behavior?

But of course this was just the beginning. Much like the recreational pot smoker who morphs into a full blown meth head, the federal reach has grown so ubiquitous, that people now get upset when any small annoyance occurs and the federal government doesn't have a regulation in place to "prevent" it. Such minutiae was never the design of our federal government. Ever.  I left the Republican Party in 1993, became an Independent and then eventually a Libertarian. I was 25.

By now, it is clear to me that there are only minor differences between our two major parties. As my husband so eloquently put it last night, the problem with the fake left is that they lie about their self interest and claim to be anti business, when the truth is that they are every bit as interested in businesses controlling the government as the right is. They just want THEIR businesses in charge. Their unions. Their schools. Their media outlets. Their global warming policies. The fascist far left attempts to shame people and jam their morality down everyone's throats in exactly the same way the authoritarian far right does with their out of control religious demands. HOW DARE YOU QUESTION GLOBAL WARMING!!! ITS SCIENCE!!! Here's a newsflash. This is the exact same mentality that religion uses to force compliance. Fear. Shame. Coercion. Except the left does it in the name of ACADEMIA!!! BECAUSE NO ONE WITH AN IVY LEAGUE DEGREE HAS EVER BEEN WRONG!!!

Newsflash number two. This is the same thing that people once thought about the Catholic Church. SPOILER ALERT: They are both man made institutions and both fallible. Both claim to care a lot about the future. Both claim that they need your money in the form of tithes and taxes in order to help get the message out and to help repair the irreparable damage we are all doing by merely existing on this planet, leaving our giant fucked up carbon footprints and irredeemable unholy sins. Both rely heavily on guilt and shame. Both love to ridicule you if you don't agree, although the Catholics will at least pray for you whereas the global warming people seem to want you to go to the hell that most of them claim they don't believe in when you point out the smallest flaw in their "airtight" scientific models. Because, NEIL deGRASSE TYSON TOLD THEM!!! OK??? AND NdGT DOESN'T LIE ABOUT SCIENTIFIC MODELS!!! Because he's on TELEVISION, and as we all know, if you have a television show, you have a special sort of cache which cannot be ignored.

Which brings me to my point. Sort of. This election is, for me, simultaneously the most tedious and the most interesting of my lifetime. The tedium comes from the fact that both Trump and Clinton have been in the public eye for so long at this point, they are, for lack of a better phrase, "played out." They are old. They are tired. The colors of both Trump's "hair" and his face are so odd, you can't even find them in the 128 count deluxe Crayola crayon set. It's sort of like Marigold and Lemon melted onto Burnt Sienna and Tangerine. This is the guy who should be running against Kramer to become president of Del Boca Vista. Clinton's pantsuits are inexplicably bad for a person who has been in public view for so many years. Particularly when she goes mono color blue and the pants pull across the front of her lap to accentuate her vulva. If she was running for president of her local AARP chapter, those Depends huggers might get her somewhere. But this is supposed to be the leader of the free world. Not a throw down about who gets to use the "good table" for bingo night.

In short, I cannot and will not take either of these geriatric egomaniacs seriously. I think Trump is funny because he uses his own lies to expose the lies of all the politicians who claim that they never lie. There is tremendous value in that. It has been virtually impossible for Clinton to seem credible when she has Trump lampooning her for taking his money from one side and Sanders lining up the true party believers against each her on the other. It's like I always say about why no threesome in history has ever been successful. Eventually, somebody will become Trotsky. Sanders is Lenin, clearly. In the trenches, fighting for the principle. But too physically weak to see it through. Trump is obviously Stalin. Making no apologies for the throat cutting he feels he needs to administer in order to get things under control. And Clinton is Trotsky. About to be exiled for crimes she may have tangentially participated in, but had no ability to either justify or be forgiven for.

The bitterest irony in this paradox, which is what makes this election interesting, is that it was the Clintons themselves who paved the way for Trump's candidacy. Who can forget Bill dropping in on Arsenio to play the saxophone? His love of the media and masterful manipulation of the press? His blowjob in the Oval Office? Sure, all parties involved skated through that one, because who WOULDN'T want a hummer under the presidential desk? But in the process, the Clintons brought the office of the President to a level that had not been seen before in this century. They parlayed the concept that they were just like any other married couple, with real married couple problems, into public empathy. Bill was just like Donnie, the UPS guy who is always the last one back to the station because he spends a few extra minutes on his "route." Bill had regular guy problems, but the panache to sell himself through all available media outlets on the level of a movie star. People loved him. They loved to hate him. They hated that they loved him.

Sound familiar?

Two decades later, enter a different kind of boor. One who is a little less gentile, because, after all he is from Queens. He is also unapologetic about his indiscretions, and doesn't really even consider them to be indiscretions. They are just Trump being Trump. Kind of like Bubba was just being Bubba. His style is different. But he made his public bones in much the same way Bill Clinton made his. Masterful use of the available media. Becoming a reality television star. A household name. Never backing down from who he is, no matter the situation. Since Clinton left the White House in 2000, we have had sixteen years of presidential leadership free of personal scandal. Both the Bush and Obama families have conducted themselves with the utmost dignity and grace in all situations. Yet here we are again, the white trash hillbillies from Arkansas slugging it out with the thugs of Queens. And you know what? Without the Clintons anointing the Machiavellian concept that bad personal behavior is IRRELEVANT to the leadership skills of the office of the president, Trump would have had zero ability to be taken seriously as a candidate.

So my suggestion to all of you disgruntled Clinton fans who are beside yourselves that a man you consider to be a "buffoon" (despite his undeniable successes in various arenas) has thrown his hat into the ring and landed on top of the other lame ass hats, look no further than your own presumed candidate, who was a party to her husbands many lies and coverups. Who basically said...I am his wife, if I am ok with his behavior, you should be, too... Because the Clintons are the reason that Trump is taken seriously. A blow job in the oval office is straight up white trash. End of story. Once you have championed that? There is no reverence for that job! Get serious. Any thug can be president. Clearly. If the Democrats had even attempted to move a younger, scandal free, sophisticated candidate into the limelight in the past eight years instead of fulfilling whatever Faustian bargain they made with the Clintons two decades ago, Trump would be an old, loud mouthed ass by comparison, forced to yield to a new generation of thought and action. Instead, we are all mired once again in the baby boomer bullshit that has given us the last fifteen years of malaise.

Irrespective of their individual politics, the Bush and Obama presidencies were nothing if not classy. Both families restored some sense of dignity to the office. The Clintons' refusal to get out of the way has thrown us all a decade behind. Neither of these candidates has any reverence for the office, and as long as they are the nominees, neither do I.

It seems that these two parties have fallen, and they can't get up. With any luck, their Life Alert subscriptions were inadvertently cancelled. There is another choice. His name is Gary Johnson. Yes, I  know. "Johnson." But believe it or not, he is the only one I this race who isn't a total dick.

BB

I THINK THEREFORE I AM. I THINK.

A somewhat famous (and infamous) former resident of Washington D.C. once observed that, “perception is reality.” That phrase has now become so ubiquitous, logic dictates that it must have been originated by a scientist or philosopher or someone of more lasting importance than a mere political hack. But the truth is, this quote was coined by none other than Lee Atwater, Republican strategist extraordinaire. The man responsible for the fact that Michael Dukakis is better remembered for having paroled Willie Horton than he is for having been a presidential candidate. Atwater was a brilliant, abrasive, ruthless master of his domain. He shepherded not one, but two Republicans into high office, and ushered in a new style of campaigning, (for better or worse) which has ultimately became known as the Republican “dirty tricks” strategy. This pithy saying, his legacy.

Perception is reality. A simple, yet complex statement. What a person believes to be true, is, for that person, true. Or, as Larry David had George Costanza opine during the sixth season of Seinfeld: “It’s not a lie, if you believe it.”

The internet is on overload today with depictions of racial unrest in Baltimore, Chicago and Detroit. The story, all too familiar.  A young African American male dies under suspicious circumstances after being held in police custody in Washington D.C’s sister city, Baltimore. Thousands, feeling hopeless and desperate, take to the streets. Some in peaceful protest. Others in full riot mode. The city itself, reduced to a metaphor for a political experiment gone wrong. This country. This UNITED States. This melting pot. This haven for the disenfranchised. This harbinger of hope. Reporters do what reporters do. Question the various participants and bystanders. Each weaves a varied tale of what he believes is happening around him, accessing his own unique perception and ability to communicate that perception. Then the rest of us read, watch and listen to the information mosaic and form individual perspectives. 

Perception is reality. 

An African American woman tells a story of her feelings of uneasiness in her dealings with the Baltimore police. A caucasian man calls for peace. An African American man expresses disgust with the violence, then pleads for the rioters to stop destroying his neighborhood. An Asian woman expresses fear for her child. A Latino woman cries, speechless. All of them drawing from his or her own experience in an attempt to frame the issues which he finds most relevant. Most in agreement with the mantra that violence is not the answer. 

Except for when it is the answer.

Such is the schizophrenic nature of our United States. A country founded on the idea of both protest (refusal to pay tea taxes to King George) and riot (dumping said tea into the Boston harbor). A country with a quick and itchy trigger finger, always poised to duke it out with whatever enemy is in sight. And if there are none in sight, move the scope until you find one.  At times, the war is on terrorism. Sometimes, poverty. Most of the time, drugs. Whatever the cause, Americans are always primed and ready for battle. This spirit is what got us here. Brought us prosperity. Allowed us to build a dynasty which demonstrates that it is possible to be both fair and free. We are fighters. Rebels. Mavericks. We founded this country on the idea that all people are created equal. That we don’t have to listen to a bunch of aristocratic, inbred, entitled royal tyrants. Not us. We are different. We are special.

Except for when we are not different. Or special.

Of course America, like all societies, is largely a product of lore. Tales of conquest, victory and accomplishment passed down from generation to generation along with the corresponding moral imperative commanding the next generation to value the things that have brought the rewards which make the tales worth telling in the fist place. I mean, what good is it to have scammed the Louisiana Purchase from France, if your children and grandchildren don’t have any interest in land? It’s not enough to tell them about how great you are. You have to make certain that they continue to believe in your greatness long after you are gone. So what to do... Hmm...Yes! That’s it!  Create a bunch of schools and other institutions designed to indoctrinate all of your descendants with your increasingly stale point of view, and then make everyone go to these places all day for like, eight hours or more, to ensure that your perspective cannot be escaped! It goes without saying that churches and other religious institutions are already in the brainwashing business. But wait. You are all about freedom. You can’t MAKE people go to church. Hmm...what to do...ok. Got it! You use the foundations of religion in the formation of your government. You create symbols. Christians have the cross. Jews have the star. You make a flag. And then throw in a bald eagle. And tell everyone that this flag, and this bald eagle are SACRED. Why are they sacred? Not sure. Umm...because they represent something that you believe is important. Ok. Let’s go with that. They are not, in actuality, important. Their coveted status is a vanguard of a CONCEPT of freedom. They, themselves have ZERO to do with freedom. And BY THE WAY if anyone kills a bald eagle, he risks that very same freedom. Ditto burning a flag. Because, you know, these symbols mean a lot to Americans like you. White European men who had the means and education to stand up to the King. And these symbols need to mean a lot to everyone else, too! If those people cannot get in line, if they cannot value the Louisiana Purchase, and understand that there are seemingly endless opportunities to use slave labor there, then those people are not YOUR kind of people. I mean, they technically are your kind of people. But you know what I mean. Where is the gratitude? How about a little something, you know, for the effort? 

And then, as quickly as Americans became rebels, we became despots. Not different. Not special. 

Such is the nature of life. Create something you care about. A family. An idea. A business. A structure. Then do whatever you have to to protect the thing you care about. This is the normal course of human survival. The problem comes in when peoples modes of survival are in conflict with each other. In this country, we have an internal contradiction in our colonial history which undercuts much of the logic our founding fathers employed in their attempts to preserve their system: We owned slaves. Black slaves. Who were brought here against their will and treated as less than human. Easily identifiable by the dark color of their skin. And it was the work of those slaves which was the very foundation of what we now know as the tobacco industry. The textile industry. The food industry. Giant conglomerates that dictate through money and influence much of the politics of not only the states from which they originate, but also in the federal arena. This country was formed in 1776. Until the Voting Rights Act of 1968, African Americans were effectively unable to build any lasting wealth. They were excluded from sharing in the profits from the very industries their ancestors labor produced, as well as all other industries. Of course white women didn’t fare much better, but the prevailing wisdom was that white women could marry white men (if their fathers were on board) and obtain de facto wealth that way. Not ACTUAL wealth. But, you know, the ladies would just squander it all on shoes and purses anyway instead of building a huge army and promoting the use of tobacco to minors and getting people addicted to various substances in which the government has a financial interest. 

But I digress.

The fact remains that the African American population in this country has not had actual access to wealth until the last fifty years. At this point, the country has moved in a direction that is decidedly European (and now somewhat Hispanic) WITHOUT them. African Americans don’t have the numbers to have a statistical impact. Nor the money to effectively lobby. Nor a foothold in the business world in any meaningful enough way for that world to reflect their values or way of life. The standard white American response for decades has been: THEY are just lazy. THEY don’t want to work. THOSE PEOPLE just want handouts. But when you take a moment to think about what is actually being said, it becomes clear that these pejoratives are not what they appear to be. 

LAZY. Meaning that white people don’t believe that African American’s have a work ethic that measures up to a white standard. A standard that kills more American men a year from heart disease than all other causes of death combined.

DON’T WANT TO WORK. Meaning that African American’s either aren’t suited for, or don’t have an interest in the jobs being afforded them. Because everyone loves the concept of low pay FOREVER with zero possibility of advancement to the highest level of the economy. 

JUST WANT HANDOUTS. Sort of like the inheritance and nepotism which is the backbone of white corporate America. Those kinds of handouts. Yes. No one wants those... in other words, your entitlement is getting in the way of my entitlement. 

To be clear. There is a system in place. An offshoot of an earlier colonial based system, which reflects mainly white, male European values. There is some variance from the original system. Important variance. Namely elections and three branches of government. But the people who created the system are white, European males. This system is pretty good. But the economics, and everything else that follows, is undeniably European in origin. Now let's say you are NOT European. In fact, your ancestors came here as non humans. You are in the system. But you are not OF the system. The system does not reflect your cultural values. It is based on efficiency, ruthlessness, and profit at the expense of others in the name of morality. You don’t have much of an interest in a system which reflects neither your values nor your skill set. I mean, WHO DOES??? And to top it off, the same people who claimed to not want royalty, keep electing these white families, like the Kennedys, the Bushs and the Clintons. You occasionally get some kind of representation, but there is no generational power, no transfer of wealth, no ability to succeed at the highest levels en masse. I mean, Oprah doesn’t even have kids! Who is she giving her dynasty to? If she was a dude, like Joe Kennedy, she would knock up her wife every year so that she could keep her estate alive. But you are African American. You don’t HAVE any Joe Kennedys. I mean, you do. But when your Joe Kennedys have a litter of children, everyone says it’s because you don’t know any better. 

Nonetheless, let's say you are here. You have to make the best of it. Your schools are bad because the school system is based on things that don’t translate well into your community. There are no jobs because most corporations have moved their operations to more profitable venues. The unions put in place to help secure jobs you might have been able to get were all run by white guys who pocketed huge sums of money and drove prices so high, that companies bounced as soon as they could. You tried slinging a little rock for money on the side, because everyone you know is so miserable, drugs are the only thing that makes their lives tolerable. Only you find that no one thinks it’s cool when a black guy sells weed or has possible gang connections. You are no Tony Montana, my friend. I mean, it was one thing for Frank Fricking SInatra to have mob ties. But we can’t have that degenerate Jay-Z ghettoing up Washington by fist bumping the Obama’s in the Oval Office. 

Hmm... so what do you do when you are disenfranchised as a group? When you feel unrepresented. What possible example could you look to, maybe in your own country’s history, where people did something to get attention because they felt repressed and unable to wield meaningful power in a situation...some kind of riot, like dumping tea into a harbor. Or firing shots at your oppressor, like the shots fired at Lexington and Concord. Or forming smaller groups within your larger group and planning your next move, like the militias of the Revolutionary War. You protest. You riot. You fight. You have to be willing to accept the fact that you may lose. And when you lose, you have to pay the penalty. 

But if the penalty isn’t that much worse than your reality, where is the risk?

The perception of white people who make the kinds of statements outlined above, as I understand it, is that this system is a good system and if you can’t conform, then, certainly, there is something wrong with you. They did it. Their ancestors did it. Get with the program. That is their reality. And, by the way, if you can’t get in line, they will use force in the form of police, to get you in line. The perception of black people who are offended by this argument, as I understand it, is that this system does not reflect their values. It does not reflect anything about them, actually. It’s not even their system. It was created without their input nor consent. Their inability to get on board is not a character flaw. That is their reality. And if you can’t accept their reality, they will use force in the form of riots, to get your attention. 

Ultimately, this becomes a legitimacy of power argument, which becomes difficult when America’s colonial origin is factored in; murder and outright theft of land from Native Americans and anyone else who was in the way. I do not advocate violence, nor destruction of property. What I do advocate, is reason. Objectivity. Certainly, if rioters break the law, they must suffer the penalty. That said, it seems disingenuous for Americans to wring our hands in disbelief when we all know our own history. We all got here because a group of people took what was then an unlawful stand against a system under which they felt unrepresented. When we see this behavior, replicated in our fellow citizens, why do we not extend that same kind of rationale to their cause? And ask ourselves why? Not why they don’t fit into our system, but why our system can’t seem to expand in a way which represents a more broad spectrum of life experiences and talents? 

Simply shrugging this off and continuing to claim that the American economic market doesn’t value certain cultures is not working. If that is the case, then the market has become, for us as a country, inefficient. The market is excluding a group of people whose lives matter. We are excluding them. In aggregate, their suffering, their desperation, their inability to lead lives of dignity because of poor education and economic access is making all of our lives expensive in countless ways, both quantifiable and unquantifiable. Welfare doesn’t work. The police state doesn’t work. The draconian drug policies we now have don't work. What will work, is a solution that promotes human dignity. A system that holds true to the spirit of the constitution, if not the letter. Moments like this are a powerful fulcrum for empathetic American’s to stop the blame game, and seek to understand why this particular group of people is so disenfranchised. Why their perception is so different from yours. It is NOT the time to say...if they have the NAACP, why can’t we have the NAAWP? The answer is: this entire culture is the NAAWP. Even the NAACP is a subset of the NAAWP. 

That is both perception. And reality. 

BB

STRANGEST BEDFELLOWS

My boyfriend and I have this nerd thing we do where we visit Presidential libraries whenever we travel to cities where they are available. Last year, on this very weekend, we went to the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California. In modern life, Americans are so obsessed with the buzzword “Watergate” that most do not know any or all of Nixon’s many accomplishments, including his domestic agenda, in many ways a virtual left wing dream by todays standards. Nixon was, after all, from California. He created the Environmental Protection Agency. He signed Title IV into law. He ended the draft. His 1974 health care proposal was exponentially more comprehensive than any that have been proposed since. Had it passed, Nixon would have forced employers to offer healthcare to employees, and provided subsidies for companies who could not afford to do so. He proposed the Family Assistance Program, which would have guaranteed welfare to any American living below a certain income level. He imposed a tax on the wealthy. He opened relations with China. 

He gave us federal race-based job quotas. That’s right. Nixon is largely responsible for affirmative action.

This library is so full of important historical events, it takes several hours to move through it effectively. Despite my long time penchant for foreign policy, (and the large amount of square footage devoted to the Nixon/Kissinger era), the piece of presidential memorabilia which both engaged me at the time and stuck with me this entire year, was not, as I had anticipated, related to China. Nor Vietnam. Nor the space program. Nor Watergate. It was, in fact, a wall display containing letters written to Nixon by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. during Nixon’s tenure as Eisenhower’s vice-president. 

What struck me most about the type-written, hand signed letters, was Dr. King’s easy eloquence. His obvious understanding that in order to affect change, one has to be both of the system and above the system. King is articulate. Precise. Insistent. Respectful. His prose, every bit as formal and official as any government leader. But there is just something about his STYLE. In these letters, he does what all charismatic leaders do. King makes Nixon part of HIS agenda.  He offers Nixon a chance to be part of something bigger than merely the vice-presidency of the most powerful country in the world. He offers Nixon a chance to be part of the human experience. A chance to be a man of lasting consequence on the humanitarian stage. Not merely another out of touch white guy sending young men off to war, answering to banks and dictating monetary policies. 

Much to the dismay of all the partisan haters out there, Nixon’s presidential record on civil rights speaks for itself. His effective use of “The Philadelphia Plan” strong armed unions into allowing African-Americans access to the higher paying, skilled trades from which they had always been excluded. It was Nixon, not Kennedy nor Johnson, who signed the Equal Employment Opportunity Act into law in 1972 giving the requisite teeth to the EEOC by allowing race (and other discriminatory practices) to be the basis for federal employment law suits. Nixon shied away from using the term “quotas.” He did, however, require federal contractors to demonstrate that they were utilizing affirmative action, effectively making it the law. 

Much ink has been spilled over both the constitutionality and fairness of affirmative action. I am not attempting to weigh in on that issue. What I find more interesting, is that Dr. King was not only a tireless advocate for the continued improvement of opportunities for African-Americans in all areas of life, but that he also made such an effective use of the system. Reading these letters demonstrated to me was that King was a man who not only asked questions, but also had answers. He believed in something bigger than the process. Something bigger than himself. As a Christian minister, he had reverence for the same basic Quaker values that had guided Nixon in his youth. He appealed to Nixon on every relevant level. As an elected official. A husband. A man. And a moral leader. To people who only know Nixon as a cartoonish paranoid, desperate and scared of his own shadow, this kind of appeal may seem laughable. But such is the desire of the media. There is no question that Nixon’s actions surrounding Watergate were both illegal and immoral. Self-serving. And perhaps that cowardly legacy is deserved. But a closer look at Nixon’s presidency reveals a series of decisions in the arena of civil rights which are decidedly progressive and morally courageous for their time. Whether or not affirmative action has run its course at this point, it seems absurd to deny the fact that at during King’s life, SOMETHING had to be done. Was it perfect? No. Is it fair? On it’s face? Probably not. But it was an attempt to further the necessary integration of African-Americans into all relevant strata of society. And let’s face it. No policy could be more misguided than one allowing enslavement of another person. Any well intended movement in the direction away from that may not hold all the answers. But it also should not be vilified. 

As with all instances of revolution, the second and third waves of the civil rights movements are no more impressive, on the whole, than the American presidents from Van Buren through Buchanan. The lore of Washington, Jefferson and even Andrew Jackson looms large in American history until Lincoln came along some twenty years later. Then Teddy Roosevelt got a little traction forty years after that. Then we get to FDR. JFK. Reagan. A handful of transcendent leaders spaced out over two hundred years. Civil rights is no different. Fifty years into its conception, King and Malcom X, the architects of change, still reign supreme in the public mind, eclipsing guys like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, who come off as disingenuous carpet baggers by comparison. This is to be expected. One merely needs to read King’s writing or listen to to a speech to understand why he will forever be the voice of this movement. Al Sharpton is not Dr. King, nor does he need to be. And by the same token, Bill Clinton is not Richard Nixon. Thanks to the media, Bubba's prurient misuse of the Oval Office, equally contemptuous of the constituency and rife with entitlement and cover up, made him seem like the cool kid you never got to sit with at lunch as opposed to Nixon’s now permanent persona as the kid most likely to shoot up the school if you look at him the wrong way. But lets be clear. In the arena of civil rights, there can be no contest. Nixon is the clear progressive.  It was King’s dream. But he needed to persuade guys like Nixon to stop turning it into a nightmare. 

Today serves as a day of reflection about the sacrifices made to ensure equality in our country. When we celebrate Independence Day, we look at the framers of our Constitution and revere them as genius, typically shaking our heads at the current state of Washington by comparison. When we celebrate President’s Day, we declare Lincoln a master of justice, and lament the fact that we have no leaders in todays world who share his god-like qualities. This day is no different. Dr. King was a man of his times, for all times. His vision profound and transformational. The problem with our collective mentality, is that we spend so much time looking back we can’t seem to move forward. The reason that the second and third waves of political movements are basically ineffective, is that the movement is no longer a movement. The tactics that worked against the British didn’t work against the Confederacy. The tactics that worked against the Confederacy didn’t work against men like Nixon. Revolutionaries become revolutionaries because they did things DIFFERENTLY.  Americans love people who fight injustice, whether it is Batman or Nelson Mandela. I don’t think any one of these guys, from Jefferson to Lincoln to King did the things he did so that we could, as a nation, spend our time arguing over whether Jon Stewart or Bill O’Reilly is more representative of the common man. (Spoiler Alert: Neither represents any man, common or otherwise, but they both represent despicable billion dollar conglomerates. Unless you are on board with the Citizens United decision, you probably need to let go of your delusion that Jon Stewart is a liberal. You’re welcome.)

There is a saying that Buddhists like to co-opt: “Leap and the net will appear.” The same can be said of the conditions which create visionaries like Dr. King. Great people rise to greatness when necessary. They distinguish themselves from others through their extraordinary perspectives. Martin Luther King is the voice of the American civil rights movement, and he will always be that voice. His ability to work within the system in order to convince white leaders to listen to his cause, while simultaneously maintaining the perception of being an outlier is unmatched in American history. The idea that Al Sharpton, or anyone can replace King, is ludicrous. No one can replace him. Which tells you one thing and one thing only.

There needs to be a new movement. 

BB

THE MEN IN THE MIRROR

Effective communication is built on the concept of both sharing experiences and shared experiences.  As Americans, we ascribe to the notion that there is value in being able to connect with others by telling ones own story in some meaningful way. Pictures. Words. Actions. All mediums which can be harnessed to impart to others something about ourselves as individuals. The telling and retelling of each individual perception with the goal of creating a better understanding of ourselves personally while contributing to a greater overall comprehension of how others think and feel as a group. In many ways, our entire economy relies on the concept of communication in its various forms. Not merely the obvious; such as the internet, movies and journalism, but also the capitalist idea that Americans are interested in using commerce as a form of expression. Cars, clothing, houses, dining, travel. All examples of things on which people are willing to spend money in order to expand their ability to communicate various things about themselves. Even more utilitarian businesses such as oil, farming, distribution and transport exist in our economy largely to support a concept of freedom of expression. In this country, we are not only free to express ourselves, we are expected to do so. Economic growth in America relies heavily on our desire to be noticed. Appreciated. Desired. Accepted. Loved. 

At certain points in time, events conspire which allow large groups of people to communicate with each other by articulating individual experiences about a shared experience. At these junctures, the two concepts of sharing experiences and shared experiences dovetail. For Americans, today is one of those junctures. Over the past thirteen years, we have all read countless recollections from journalists using 9/11 as a tenant by which to share individual stories about where they were on that day. It seems axiomatic to say that most of us create a mental picture in our heads of where we are and what we are doing when life altering things happen to and around us. We all access that little flash of memory, that feeling of recognition that we hold onto because it gives our experience context. Especially when the experience is one over which we feel we have no control. 

This morning as I drove my daughter to school, I saw the members of our local fire department wearing full dress while in formation outside the fire station. Their trucks, pristine and beautiful vessels of salvation, American flags flowing freely from their ladders, parked in front of the station for all to behold. Perfectly shined police SUVs, normally hidden from taxpayer view until they lumber out of their hiding places to let you know what you are doing wrong that day, were lined up across the street from the station. On this day, a point of pride for the city, not merely an inconvenience for its hurried drivers. As I surveyed this scene, I began to do what most Americans are doing with our shared experience on this day. I began to think about where I had been on 9/11. And in that moment, those firefighters and police officers still visible in the rearview window of my car, my thoughts fell hollow on my own heart. Because I realized that by thinking about where I was on 9/11, I had missed the point entirely. What is important, what makes the shared experience poignant, was not where I WAS on 9/11. But where I WASN’T. 

I wasn’t on Flight 93. I wasn’t in Tower One. Or Tower Two, where I had spent a summer as an intern when I was nineteen. I wasn’t on the PATH, commuting from my parents home in New Jersey as I had done all those years ago. I wasn’t on Ladder 3 prepared to risk my own life to save another. I wasn’t at home waiting to hear if a loved one was going to survive. I wasn’t serving our country in Afghanistan. Or Germany. Or Kuwait. Wondering what this development was going to mean for my deployment. I wasn’t working at New York Presbyterian Hospital when the burn victims arrived. I wasn’t on the scene as a reporter, trying to simultaneously comprehend the situation and articulate it. I wasn’t on the street as a bystander, feeling terrified and helpless. I wasn’t worshipping in an American mosque, only to emerge later and discover that what it meant to be an Arab in America was forever changed. I wasn’t in the pentagon building. I wasn’t an elected official tasked with the duty of figuring out how to balance the cost of American lives with the cost of curtailing freedom. Simply put, I was experiencing 9/11 as more an observer than a participant. I am an American. And as an American, I am a participant. As a human, I am a participant. This happened in my country. To my fellow Americans. To people. And I mourned as I mourn every time I think about what happened. I mourn the loss of life. The loss of freedom. I mourn the fact that our response has cost even more lives. Even more freedom. In a way, I suppose, I mourn the human condition. But my experience was indirect. It was not first hand. Because of where I was. And where I wasn't.

Given the tragic circumstances and comparatively dire consequences of the events we remember on this day, it is easy to recognize why, for most people, where you were on 9/11 is less relevant than where you weren’t. When extrapolated into a larger idea, it becomes obvious that in order to be an effective communicator, it is incumbent to always be mindful of where you weren’t. Your mental picture gives emotional context. It is a good place to start, in your own head. But when you find yourself communicating primarily in terms of what YOU experienced, what YOU think, what YOU believe, you are significantly limiting the scope of the discourse. What is disappointing about the legacy of 9/11 is that the subsequent media and legislative responses have proven to be devoid of effectiveness because so many people in those pursuits are intent on making the tragedy about themselves and the advancement of their own goals. Sharing individual stories is a cornerstone of the human experience. Without the corresponding capacity to recognize how everyone else’s story creates the requisite mosaic, the cornerstone begins to fragment. In this scenario, the observer has a story. A story of perception and context. The participant has a story. And it is a different story. It is a story of perception and context. But also of survival. Both are important. 

This morning, a visual metaphor of American courage caught my eye and then occupied my mind for the majority of the day. Firefighters and police officers displaying obvious pride about their service to our community reminded me to not allow whatever it is that I am doing to obstruct me from seeing the importance of all the things I am not doing. Once my mind recalled the context of my shared experience of 9/11, my next thought was about all of the people whose losses were unimaginable to me. Where I was that day, what I was doing, is merely a footnote on the unlimited volume of pages the experience of 9/11 has to teach me. Once I placed the thought of my own story in the background, once I limited its use to merely a brief emotional touchstone, only then was I ready to receive the message which that few seconds in my rearview mirror colluded to send me. 

BB

California. Love.

Growing up in Iowa in the seventies, I did not have much interaction with people who were not caucasian. When I graduated from high school, my parents moved to New Jersey and I eventually landed at Tulane University in New Orleans. When I think about it now, it seems as if going from a place that was at least three quarters white (Des Moines) to a place that was at least three quarters black (New Orleans) should have been a culture shock. But it wasn't. I had absolutely no preconceived ideas about what I would encounter. At all. New Orleans is dangerous. It can be rough. I did see a tamale vendor get stabbed outside of KB Drugs. I saw a few black chicks grab each other by the weaves and smash each others faces into the counter at Popeye's at five am one time. I saw a lot of poverty. But I had seen poverty before when I lived in southern Iowa as a child. White poverty. But poverty nonetheless. Beyond those few incidents, I never saw anything that was particularly shocking to me. I interacted with black people every day and I found them to be interested in the same things in which I was interested in at that time in my life. Music. Movies. Religion. The extreme weather. Politics. Family.

After college, I moved to Phoenix. There, I encountered a burgeoning Latino population. The culture of the West is noticeably different from that of the South. And different still from the Midwest. But again, no big surprises. When you don't have any particular expectation, you don't really get surprised. I had my purse stolen one time by a Hispanic kid. I saw a Mexican chick pull a blade on another one in a bar one time. But other than that, looking back over twenty years, I cannot think of even one negative encounter I ever had with a Latino person. Ever. Plus I had some white investment bankers try to steal my business and bankrupt me one time, so those aforementioned crimes seem pretty minor to me by comparison. I interacted with Latinos daily and, as I had in New Orleans, I found them to have the same basic interests that I had in my life.

Now, I live in California. I don't spend one second thinking about anyones race or ethnicity at this point. Nor sexual orientation. Los Angeles is so ethnically and sexually diverse, it seems like anything short of spotting two or three full burqas a day on the heels of overhearing a lunch conversation between a girl and her mother shopping for her quinceanera and then having to duck so that you don't photo bomb the picture that a Japanese family is taking on Sunset with a drag queen, would be abnormal. While it seems as if the experiences I have had in my adult life should have changed my mind in some way about these minority groups, they have not. I mean, there is a difference between hypothetically living among different groups of people and actually doing so. And I can honestly say that while there are certainly differences in lifestyle, values and culture, I don't feel that my life is in any way limited by the fact that the majority of people I see daily are different than I. If anything, this expansion of my world has enhanced my life by proving to me time and time again that people want the same things out of life. That we do not all have the same approach does not change the fact that we are all programmed to want peace, love and happiness.

When I see a Latina mother holding her biracial son, my mind registers the way they look physically. For about one second. Then I see how she bounces him on her knee and strokes his head to get him to stop crying. And she then becomes another mother, just like me. When I see two gay men holding hands, I recognize that they are both men. Briefly. Then that image gives way to the realization that they are supporting each other through the day the same way I do when I am in love with someone. When I see a two black girls laughing in the most animated way imaginable about something that I have no way of understanding in the moment, I see them as black. At first. Then I think about how I love to go out with my best girlfriend and make fun of things that no one else would ever think was funny. And that empathy creates the memory I carry of the encounter.

I am not going to lie. I struggle with the burqa.

That one is tough on me. Because I do not understand it. But I look more closely and see that the woman inside with the gorgeous almond shaped eyes is peering out at the world; taking in the beauty of a SoCal afternoon and experiencing the same languid energy that I feel in that moment. That I cannot see her does not need to diminish our shared experience. That is what I have decided.

We alone control our own ability to perceive and process life as it happens. I firmly believe that the reason I have never had any problems with people who are different than I am ethnically and with regards to their sexual orientation, is because I DID NOT EXPECT TO HAVE PROBLEMS BASED ON THOSE DIFFERENCES. I have never approached it in any other way. They have their way of doing things, and I have mine. Frankly, if you ever take a minute to ask someone who is different than you are about his or her life, you will usually get an answer which will illuminate something about your own choices. It's called PARTICIPATING IN THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE.

But of course groups cannot have people thinking in these terms. They cannot have you experiencing your own life in an individual, personal way and then using that experience to better understand your place in this world. Groups need people to be weak. They need you to be compliant. They need you to lack compassion and fail to access your empathy for others. They NEED to constantly point out our differences and exploit them for the sake of their own objectives. They WANT you to see the guy who cut you off in traffic as a Chinese guy instead of just a bad driver. They REQUIRE you to second guess your own instincts, which tell you that when you stop and think about it, there is much more that the human race has in common than it does not have in common. And this kind of power struggle for your individuality that exists in life makes it difficult for us to remain human. We begin to see ourselves in terms of categories. Black. White. Male. Female. Gay. Straight. American. Muslim. And these labels, while accurate in defining certain aspects of our lives, become an anvil around our collective neck; pulling us downward and anchoring us to the idea that the process of life is somehow more important than life itself. We begin to believe that somehow, life is not as important if we aren't identified properly as part of these various groups. And then, de facto, anyone who is NOT in our group is marginalized. Their lives and experiences become less important to us as individuals. And that mindset is what lends itself to the idea of racism. When you stop to remember that a Latino person is a PERSON; when you remove that label, then it becomes much easier to relate to his experience. And that is the LAST thing that the mainstream media and elected officials want you to do. They want you to remember at all times who you are in their terms. They want you to need them to tell you who you are. If you reject their premise, and see yourself as an individual, they lose all their power.

It is difficult to remain mentally vigilant when we are constantly inundated with so many reasons to become part of the group. For me, it always comes down to this one question. How does it make me feel empowered to believe that other people do not have access to the same things to which I have access? It doesn't. I mean, can the best things in life really only be achieved by a limited portion of the population? Why would that belief system ever serve me? It doesn't. What makes me feel connected to humanity, is the realization that we are more alike than we are different. All of the man made constructs which divide us are easy to dismantle. It simply requires each of us to reject the idea that the sum is greater than its parts. 

BB

The Perfect Weapon

As we celebrate the fourth today, let us be mindful of all that makes us Americans. The freedom with which we communicate. The fact that we have the right to defend ourselves, both as a collective and individually, from persons who wish to take our freedoms. The privilege that we may use our private homes in the way which we, as individuals choose; and not merely as extensions of military housing. The privacy which allows us to protect our property and assets from being surveilled by the government. The right to not incriminate ourselves. The guarantee that if we are accused of a crime; we will have counsel, and a speedy and fair trial by a jury of our peers. Protection from cruel and unusual punishment. The flexibility of our constitution to be expanded and contracted contextually in accommodation of the evolution of life in America. And the promise that there will continue to be different levels of government; not merely one giant, uncontrolled behemoth, lumbering onward without regard to state and local boundaries. The further we, as a country, move away from our colonial days; the easier it becomes to forget WHY these freedoms are enumerated in the Bill of Rights. But when one takes a hard look at the revolutions taking place in other parts of the world, their context becomes all too clear.

These rights are expressed every day in the way in which we, as Americans, live our lives. Our military and public servants sacrifice much to keep us free. But in lock step with that sacrifice, we have the daily rigor of American innovation, entrepreneurship, education, religious practice, private philanthropy and family life. Each American adult has both the ability and the obligation to utilize his most prized and valuable gift from our forefathers in order to secure our unique and independent way of life: the vote. Today, let us be most grateful for that tacit weapon of mass construction. 

BB

Heartbreak. Heal.

The Boston Marathon is held annually on what is also known as "Patriots Day", a commemoration of the battles of Lexington and Concord which marked the advent of the War for American Independence. On this day, athletes of all races, nationalities and religions compete in a grueling test of endurance which requires planning, sacrifice, training, mental toughness and physical exertion. Much like life. Life requires these things, also. The marathon represents the best of what our nation has to offer. It does not discriminate based on sexual orientation, gender or creed. It demands discipline. It rewards achievement. It serves as a consistent metaphor for the incredible synergy of freedom and strength on which this country was founded. That any person would choose to misuse this event in an effort to promote an agenda of fear is tragic. But the fact that we gather to celebrate greatness despite the risk of being targeted by those who despise our liberty, is also a testament to the continued resilience of the American spirit. No amount of fear mongering, race baiting or religious persecution has stifled our generous heart. This will be no different. Whether this incident proves to be an act of domestic terrorism, foreign terrorism, or simply an example of depraved indifference for human life, one thing is certain: we WILL race again. 

BB