For the last
year, I have been shaking my head. #45
opens his mouth, blasts a tweet, and continues to display rash, impulsive, racist,
sexist, narcissistic behavior and I shake my head in disbelief. Am I in a horrible dream? Is this man really our president? Is there still an enthusiastic following that
justifies and excuses his behavior because he will bring socially conservative Supreme
Court judges and tax breaks? My heart breaks. My soul aches. Yes, this is the country I live in. Yes, world, this is the one chosen by the
electoral college to represent who we are.
I am embarrassed. I can no longer
sit back and shake my head. I am looking
for a new verb of social action to define my response to this nightmare.
Only to do justice and to love goodness,
and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8
We as a nation
are sitting upon a wealth of potential to end poverty and economic disparity,
but we are choosing to blame the poor, the broken, the impoverished for our
economic woes. Germany blamed the Jews,
the Poles, and anyone not Aryan. We cut
funding and assistance for education, childcare, healthcare – those fundamental
needs that will help end the cycles of poverty in exchange for more corporate welfare
and larger CEO bonuses. The rich
continue to get richer. The privileged
continue to gain more opportunity. Meanwhile,
those in the trenches continue to bear the weight of the greed.
We justify our
choices. Excuse our leader’s narcissism
and pursue the almighty dollar. And
those not fortunate like us? They live
in shitholes.
Our country
values greed and power. We elected #45
because he represented this duo and promised the country greatness. Greatness as defined by more economic growth
and power. I see greatness as being
stewards of our resources by helping those stuck in the cycle of poverty. We are stewards of greatness when we invest in
education, healthcare, mental health.
Greatness is servant leadership.
Greatness is empathy towards my fellow human sojourners no matter what
shithole they come from. To whom much
was given, much is expected. I am humble
enough to know I sit where I am because I happened to be born into a white,
American family with educated parents who worked hard to provide me with
education and opportunity. I did not
choose my family. I just as easily could
have been born into a shithole of a low, Indian caste system and sold into sex
slavery so my brother could be educated and possibly save my entire family. There is no room for humility where greed and
power reign.
Those working
the front lines trying to heal the brokenness – teachers, social workers,
mental health professionals, public servants work for fractions less than those
in the corporate world. When I did
contract work the Department of Child Services, I LOVED my job. I helped foster children find their forever
homes. I helped foster and adoptive
parents understand the unique needs of their newest family member. I watched abused, distrusting children find
hope, healing, and love. It was
difficult work. But I had to quit this
job because it cost me almost as much in childcare than the wages I earned (and
I had free childcare half of the time.) I
had a Master’s degree and a professional license to maintain. I carried a phone to be on call for families
24-7, risked my safety driving into unsafe neighborhoods, and bore secondary
trauma of hearing horrific tales of abuse. All that for $12/hour with no paid time off,
retirement plan, or benefits. We put our
money where are values are. My job was
not valued. Healing the broken is not valued.
I recently
took care of a trauma patient. At first
glance, he was a shit from a shithole. He
had a prison record. He will likely have
no insurance. Those of us who pay taxes
will pay for this very expensive trauma intervention. The hospital will eat a large portion of his
medical bills. And then he started
sharing about his life. Childhood
abuse. Foster care. He was part of the forgotten from the American
shitholes. He is who we point the finger
at and blame as to why our society is so terrible. OR we do not and we point the finger at
ourselves. We failed him, and probably
his parents who likely endured child abuse themselves. We failed at intervening. We failed at providing him the resources, education,
mental health therapies needed for him to rise above the hell he was
living. We failed him. Then we blamed him. Healing the broken is not valued.
As I was
ranting to my husband about the latest narcissistic outburst of #45, he gently
reminded me he is a reflection of our societies values. We want quick fixes and the illusion that all
is wonderful. And to hold up this
illusion, we need a common enemy to unite us.
We scapegoat the poor. Call them shitholes.
I rolled my
eyes when I first heard Oprah was considering a run for office. This is not an endorsement, but perhaps we
need an Oprah to help us heal as a society.
Someone who gets empathy, understands struggle, and does not ignore
those who come from shitholes. As I look
for my own new verb to replace my silent head shaking, healing comes to the
forefront. I am called to help heal this
broken mess. I would like to run from it
– move to Finland, Tahiti, or my own private island, but this is not where I am
called to be.
“You have been
told, O mortal, what is good,
and what the
LORD requires of you:Only to do justice and to love goodness,
and to walk humbly with your God.” Micah 6:8