What Freedom Means to Me

When I think of freedom, an equal and just society is a
big part of America’s promise. Photo taken by author at
Boise Veteran's Day Parade, November 4, 2017

Defending freedom is a calling for all Americans.

On the first Saturday morning in November, I woke up early to attend the annual Boise Veteran’s Day parade. My friend and mentor, Vietnam War veteran Ken Rodgers, was one of four grand marshals. His award-winning documentary film Bravo: Common Men, Uncommon Valor, tells the rough story of the siege of Khe Sanh from the perspective of the American survivors. Ken was one of them, a bona fide American hero. 

Veteran’s Day is an annual opportunity for me to reflect on the legacy of military service my father, my grandfather, and so many other brave men and women left to our country. Like Ken, my father fought in Vietnam; I wrote about what it means to grow up as the daughter of a United States Marine here. 

Growing up as the daughter of a United States Marine means I cry pretty much any time I see the Stars and Stripes. It means I always stand (and always cry) for the national anthem. 

And it means I unequivocally and passionately support the free speech rights of those who don’t stand for the anthem because they are protesting unjust treatment. (Prediction: History will remember Colin Kaepernick as an American hero and President Donald Trump as an American traitor).

The next day, on Sunday morning, I woke up early and drove across town to the Boise Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. Reverend Sara LaWall’s sermon focused on the urgent need to create “thick” communities where people are encouraged to be their best selves. The sermon was based on a popular David Brooks essay, “How to Leave a Mark on People.”  I am reading Brooks’s 2015 book The Road to Character now, as an antidote to the daily assault of unprincipled characters who dominate our screens and our Twitter feeds, the Predator in Chief first among them.

While I was at church in Boise, in a tiny Texas town outside of San Antonio, a congregation was massacred at the close of their Sunday services. Children were among the victims. The usual “thoughts and prayers” tweets from politicians ensued, but people on my social media feeds seem to have given up on reasonable discussions about guns—instead, we shrug and say, “This is just the price we pay to live free (and die free) in America today.” 

Maybe Newtown took it out of us. Or Santa Barbara. Or Roseburg. Or Orlando, Or Charleston. Or Tennessee. Or Las Vegas (was that nightmare just three weeks ago?).

After church, my husband and I trudged cheerfully through the November rain to deliver campaign literature for Boise’s first Latina candidate for city council. Lisa Sanchez is the embodiment of the American Dream, and she wants to share that promise with everyone in our community. Raised by a single mother who worked multiple jobs to support their family, Sanchez was the first in her family to graduate from college. She is committed to living wages, ending homelessness, and “bringing everyone to the table.” 

When I think of freedom, an equal and just society is a big part of America’s promise. This is exactly what our brave veterans fought to protect and preserve—an America that rewards everyone who is willing (and able) to work hard, and an America that understands the need for empathy, compassion, and community for those who are in need. 

I don’t see that America reflected in my news feed. Instead, I see fear, hatred, and corruption—and I don’t think these all too common stories are #fakenews. As a student of the Classics, I see a republic in crisis. Our democracy needs all of our boots on the ground—now—if we are going to prevail against the forces that threaten to destroy us. We have to get educated, and we have to vote. 

But we also have to return our individual focus to building Brooks’s thick communities. One of my favorite parts of church is when we turn and greet our neighbors. I also love the power of holding hands with each other and affirming our faith. These powerful rituals can extend to our communities. 

When people inevitably annoy us, what if we could think, “peace be with you” instead of shouting “f%$k you?” On social media, when someone posts something we disagree with, what if we could look for common ground first? 

I’ve made a point of engaging with people who hold views that are different from mine because a) I don’t know everything; and b) even when we disagree about some things, I am often surprised by how much we actually agree on. I have certainly found this to be true in mental health advocacy. Often, when advocates move beyond the false dichotomy of either/or to the more inclusive community of both/and, we find unexpected moments of insight and connection. Every single person in America—Republican, Democrat, or Independent—should be actively looking for ways to connect with people who disagree with us, "for Heaven and the future's sakes."

By the way, I don’t think that thick communities have to depend on existing church communities. In fact, many of the most moral and principled people I have ever met have eschewed formal religion (It’s true! Atheists are ethicists! See “Good Minus God” for an example).

But we need to find brave new ways to practice both group compassion and civic discourse. This challenge requires us to move out of our comfortable but meaningless echo chambers. For example, people may agree more than they think they do on the need for a social safety net. But when Republicans cast Democrats as nanny state enablers, and Democrats respond by calling Republicans cold-hearted Scrooges, children go hungry and working families suffer. In fact, most of the Democrats and Republicans I know actually want to help those in need and are committed to finding solutions. The difference, as I see it, is that Democrats tend to look to state-run solutions while Republicans prefer private ones. 

How do we return to the promise of America? Today, defending freedom is a calling for us all. It starts with educated voters and qualified candidates. It starts with holding our elected leaders accountable, even when it seems like so many of them have checked their consciences at some far distant door (perhaps in Moscow?). It starts with civic discourse, the sincere wish of “peace be with you” to everyone, not just people who affiliate with our political party.

And it starts with positive ideas for real growth and community. I see that kind of energy in the Boise City Council election. I do not see this positive energy in either the Democratic or Republican national parties. 

Our country was founded on principles of individual liberty. But only by returning to a common identity by finding agreement on what it means to be American—will we see our way to Katherine Lee Bates’s beautiful future, with “liberty and justice for all.” 

Oh, beautiful for patriot dream  

That sees beyond the years

Thine alabaster cities gleam, 

Undimmed by human tears!

America! America! 

God shed his grace on thee, 

And crown thy good with brotherhood 

From sea to shining sea.

Yeah, that one makes me cry too. Now go vote, y’all!

My 2017 Resolution: Liberty and Justice for All!

“Ring out the false; ring in the true!”—Alfred, Lord Tennyson

As I scrolled through my friends’ Facebook feeds on New Year’s Eve 2016, noting the pictures of dumpster fires, the scornful expressions of “good riddance,” the laments of trepidation for the future, I also noticed that for many people, 2016 was actually a very good year for personal and professional growth.

2016 was certainly a good year for me. I successfully defended my doctoral dissertation on mental health advocacy and leadership. I started working full time in my dream job, teaching composition to first-year students at a community college. I spoke at several conferences, including the National Council for Behavioral Health, the Domenici Institute 2016 Public Policy conference, and the American Bar Association’s National Summit on the Death Penalty and Serious Mental Illness.

With other mental health advocates, I celebrated the passage of the 21^st Century Cures Act, which will hopefully provide more funding and support for people living with serious mental illness. My 2014 book, The Price of Silence, continued to be read and positively reviewed, and my brave son Eric spoke at 2016 TEDx Boise about what it’s like to grow up with bipolar disorder, and how people can help to end stigma one friend and one conversation at a time.

All in all, a pretty good year.

Except for that Trump thing.

Truthfully, the election of Donald Trump won’t directly hurt me or my family too much. We’re white, heterosexual, middle class folks who live in Idaho, that “reddest of the red” states. Though my husband and I both have progressive leanings, we have behaved like good Republicans in our financial lives. We live within our means. We work hard, save aggressively, and donate as much as we can to charitable organizations. We have health insurance through my employer, and when we didn’t, we used a Health Savings Account and a high deductible policy, exactly the “solution” that Republicans are likely to offer as a replacement for Obamacare.

My family has not relied on public benefits like food stamps, even though both my husband and I have experienced periods of unemployment, and my husband, like many white men his age, remains underemployed and would prefer to work full-time.

Still, we have been lucky.

No, Donald Trump’s election (barring the frightening possibility of global nuclear war) likely won’t affect us. We’ll read the horrific headlines and shake our heads in disapproval. We’ll continue to call our elected officials and express our concerns about Russian hacking, gender discrimination in healthcare, and the frightening prospect of erosion of legal protections for marginalized people who should have the same rights as the rest of us.

We are so lucky.

Here’s where I admit something that most of my friends probably don’t know. I’m a registered Republican. In fact, when I consider only my own circumstances and experiences, I’m very attracted to libertarianism, with its inherent meritocracy and limited federal government focused on defense and facilitation of commerce.

When I read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged in 10^th grade, I was completely sold on the gospel of personal accountability. I was a faithful member of a conservative religion that reinforced those values of making good choices, working hard, and reaping the blessings that would come from pulling myself up by my own bootstraps. In that world, financial success was (and still is) visible evidence of good character, of God’s approbation.

Then I grew up. I read Peggy McIntosh’s essay on white privilege, and it resonated. I read bel hooks’s critique of white feminism, and that stung, too. I realized that social justice was not a fashionable accessory to my life; it was the meaning of life.

I learned that life in fact was not fair, that all people did not have equal opportunities, that even when I’d faced challenges, the world had been uncommonly gracious and accommodating to me.

This shift in perspective took several years of sometimes painful self-examination. It took losing my religion, my first marriage, and most of my friends. In fact, the process is still ongoing. I still make so many mistakes. But I have learned a few things.

• It’s not about me.
• Past performance is no guarantee of future returns
• Gratitude is the key to happiness.
• It’s okay to make mistakes.
• Being present—for yourself and for the people you love—matters.
• I should give all I can, whenever I can, to those who are not as lucky as I am.

One of my father’s (and my) favorite hymns begins with these words: “Because I have been given much, I too must give.” For those of us, like me, who have more than enough, giving to those who have less is the only moral choice. In fact, as C.S. Lewis wrote, we should give until it hurts.

And then give more.

Sure, on a superficial level, Donald Trump may not hurt me personally. But the sudden erosion of our democracy hurts all of us. My 2017 resolution is to fight like hell whenever I see others’ rights trampled on. It’s to join my voice with others who are calling out for justice. It’s to give all I can, and then give more.

I’d still like to see the Republican ideal of equal opportunity for all. But today’s Republican Party seems to be dedicated to a very different platform, one that robs from the poor to pay the rich, that excludes minority religions, that suppresses free speech, that appeals to fear rather than calling people to love. These are all dangerous signs of authoritarianism, and they must not continue unchecked.  

In 2017, I will defend my country's promise of liberty and justice for all. I will stay awake.

My Nevermores

Halloween Insane Asylums, Donald Trump, and Hillary Clinton’s Emails

A month or so ago, I took the unusual (for me) step of unfriending and blocking someone on social media. The woman in question is someone I consider to be a friend IRL (in real life). But after I delivered several polite but increasingly stern private warnings about her posts on my personal Facebook page, she crossed a line. 

When I ebulliently shared my and other advocates’ successful attempts to convince Knotts Berry Farm and Six Flags to close their offensive and stigmatizing Halloween asylum attractions, my friend felt compelled to share her point of view that advocates were reading way too much into this “fun” and that we were in fact ruining Halloween in the name of “misguided political correctness.” 

To be fair, my friend knows firsthand the real and painful struggles of caring for someone who lives with severe mental illness. She’s also very smart. When I blocked her, she sent me a long email missive entitled “Offended by logic?”  

My response? “I have made up my mind on this issue. Discussion is over for me. Find someone who is interested in having this discussion.” 

I don’t take this kind of step lightly. I love learning new things and hearing alternate perspectives on just about every subject you can imagine. 

But I also believe we all have our proverbial lines in the sand. There are a few things I have made up my mind about, and I don’t want to “debate” these issues further.  

In fact, there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging and enforcing these personal boundaries, which I’ve decided to brand as my “nevermores” in honor of Edgar Allen Poe’s taciturn raven. 

Here’s a partial list of my “nevermores,” or things that I have made up my mind about: 

• Donald Trump 
• Black Lives Matter 
• White male privilege 
• Halloween “insane asylums” or costumes exploiting mental illness 
• Mental illness and incarceration 
• Joseph Smith 
• Gay marriage
• Climate change 
• The shape of the earth (round vs. flat) 
• Hillary Clinton’s emails 

If you want to ask me about my carefully thought out, researched, reasoned position on any of the above, I will be more than happy to share it. But these are not things I’m interested in debating. I’m not saying other people can’t hold other points of view than mine—of course they can! I’m just not interested in conversations on these topics, because I have already made up my mind. 

“But!” you might be saying. “New information! James Comey! Emails again!” 

No. It’s the same story, and the same emails. And frankly, like the majority of Americans, I don’t care about Hillary Clinton’s “damn emails.” Mrs. Clinton is a woman about my mother’s age, with the same level of technophobia. She made a mistake, and she admitted it. This kind of mistake (fortunately!) really has proven to be the definition of “no harm, no foul.” 

But for the men who have repeatedly tried to destroy Hillary Clinton, there was definitely harm, and there have been plenty of uncalled fouls. 

Every time I see Julian Assange’s smug smirk, all I can think is “sexual predator.”   

Every time I see the unfortunately named Anthony Weiner in the news, all I can think is, “sexual predator.”   

Every time I see Donald Trump disparage another minority group  or mock someone with disabilities  or denigrate a slain soldier's family   or threaten to sue the women who have bravely come forward to share their stories of abuse at his (tiny) hands, all I can think is “sexual predator.”   

And yes, to be fair, every time I see Bill Clinton, I think of how he betrayed l his wife, his daughter, and the nation—for sex with “that woman,” Monica Lewinsky, who has now emerged as a brave and powerful voice for women everywhere.i  

It’s ironic—no, more like terrifying—that all of the prominent men standing in Hillary Clinton’s way are connected with sexual assault. It’s even more terrifying that women’s voices weren’t enough to legitimize this fear, and that even though Trump’s own words have exposed him for what he truly is, he is still considered a viable candidate for President of the United States. 

I’ve already voted—and I wouldn’t change my vote based on this “new” (aka, same old, same old) information about emails. But to journalists everywhere, I would issue this plea. 

Set boundaries. 

James Comey failed to set boundaries when he issued his cryptic letter to Congress, and in this failure, he has allowed you—and Trump—to “write the book” on what the FBI may, or may not, find. 

Don’t write that book. It’s likely historians will categorize your unfounded speculation as fiction. Even worse, with a week to election day, your irresponsible reporting may destroy our republic. 

It’s not that hard to do this the right way. When you weigh in on whether this new email discovery may lead to a reopening of the investigation that could harm a Clinton Presidency, it is only fair and balanced to ask the same questions about Donald Trump, who is currently facing a civil trial for defrauding students with Trump University and has a post-election December 16 hearing on allegations that he raped a 13-year old girl.  I hope—though in the current climate of rampant institutionalized misogyny, I cannot assume—that a rape case would seriously harm a Trump Presidency.   

Granted, Hillary Clinton is not perfect. I don’t know many people who are. But she is more qualified than any other male—or female—candidate in the United States today. And she is our best chance to break that “highest, hardest glass ceiling.”  

So I don’t want to discuss Hillary Clinton’s emails with you anymore. It’s time to vote for the most prepared, qualified candidate in the history of the United States. It’s time to make herstory a reality. 

Because if Donald Trump wins, there's a frightening chance that too many Americans' hopes and dreams will be "nevermore."