The white waking class.

Normal is inevitable.

I don’t mean that “President Trump” will ever sound or feel right. I mean that our days will return — are already turning — to something close to what they were before. Red-hot fury cools a little, enough to make it through almost an entire workday with no commiserating side conversations, or awkward broachings with colleagues with unknown political leanings. To go see a movie and actually pay attention to what’s happening on screen.

One of the ones I went to see was Arrival. I really liked it, which for right now is kind of beside the point. It touched on something that I think about after certain kinds of movies and TV shows where Big Things Happen in a world that is pretty much the one we’re living in. Which is (and don’t worry, I’m not spoiling anything here): What happens next? Not to the world, or our government, but to people. Once you get over the initial shock, how do you feel about going to work the week after the aliens have landed? For the sake of argument, orange-haired, short-fingered aliens?

I guess the phrase is “new normal.” In this context, it’s what happens when something momentous happens that changes everything — and then, even after everybody recognizes that everything has, in fact, changed, we look around and see that nothing looks very different. We all have to figure out how to just get through the day.

And the easiest, most friction-free way to do that is to pick up where we left off. Resume our natural rhythms. Go about our business, knowing that something is terribly wrong. Knowing that there’s got to be a way to fix it, but it sure seems pretty out of focus at the moment. Not really not understanding the disconnect between the new order and our old, familiar ways.

Part of the problem is that I want the real-world reaction to be equal to, as powerful as, the original big-screen action. I want the grand dramatic gesture. I want Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum to blow up the damn mothership. I want the Hollywood ending, where truth and justice prevail.

But this is not Life During Wartime. This is big, but it’s mostly invisible to me.

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I use the word luxury a lot when talking about white privilege. It’s the luxury of not having to think. The luxury of ignorance.

It’s a luxury, on one level, of not having to think about what people are thinking about me when I’m standing in line. As described by the actor, rapper, musician Donald Glover (creator of the show Atlanta which everyone should go find a way to watch right now):

We were in the airport and I was waiting in line at the ATM and there was a guy in front of me getting money. I came up and he got nervous, so I went to the side and waited for him to finish. I said to my group of friends, “I don't think white people know how much effort in my day is put into making them feel comfortable.” In general, people don't know how much of my time is dedicated to making them feel comfortable. Maybe it has to do with being older, but I just didn't want to do it anymore. I don't want to make people comfortable all the time. Plus, we just feel like we're going to die soon. (h/t)

It’s a luxury on a whole different level not having to think about the implications of separating racism (or other isms) from economic oppression. As Ta-Nehisi Coates spelled out in an eye-opening (for me) tweet storm, excerpted here:

The notion that, say, racism is non-economic oppression is rather incredible.

The Ferguson report revealed an entire scheme of municipal plunder. Anti-black policing was an economic model.

Marriage discrimination isn't bad because simply because it makes people "feel bad."

It's bad because it bars them from entering into a contract to protect--among other things--the fruits of their labor.

There's nothing "non-economic" about sexual harassment. If you're boss is demanding favors in exchange for a raise, that's economics. 

Notion that white dude's issues are "economic" and everybody else is just trying to discuss their feelings is, well, sorta deplorable.

"Non-economic oppression" and "Identity politics" are basically phrases people are using obscure old and trenchant problems.

This is not a case against making a strong pitch to wwc voters. It's a case against the idea that economics is irrelevant everywhere else.

It's easy to perceive these systems as people just being mean to each other. More disturbing to process the idea that someone is benefiting.

It’s ultimately the luxury of getting to be all righteous and Hollywood-y and believing that “go big or go home” gives me the license to do just that: to take my energy and attention and go home if the situation doesn’t seem big enough or important enough or immediate enough to me. And to suffer no repercussions for that decision.

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There was a scene in the premier of a new SyFy series called Incorporated (which I don’t recommend you rush out and see) that represents one answer to the question, What Happens Next.

It’s 2070-something, in the aftermath of the stereotypical Corporate Takeover Of The World (generic sci-fi plot #5). There are the haves who live in Green Zones and the haven-nots, who live in Red Zones. We’re along for the ride as our Green Zone-living hero goes off to work in his self-driving car and heads down a lightly trafficked highway toward a shining city, zooming past verdant forestland.

Then the point of view shifts, and the camera rises upward, showing that the greenery is a video projection, there to block the view of the teeming, walled-in, refugee camp-like Red Zone. Out of sight, out of mind.

It’s pretty much the same answer we have in 2016, only with better special effects.

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This era that we’re starting to live through right now isn’t a full-on alien invasion. It is, however, Standing Rock (and hey, look at that — sometimes you can win the battles). It is the Klan, small and pathetic as it is, marching in North Carolina. It is the Pandora’s Box of toxicity being unleashed by certain subsets of Trump supporters. It is the people for whom the new normal is the freedom to proudly and publicly declaim their racism/sexism/homophobia/Islamophobia. It is the people who are, on a daily, debilitating basis, on the receiving end of that hate. And it is people for whom none of that was enough to sway their vote. Who didn’t or couldn’t or wouldn’t see what electing Trump would mean for their fellow citizens.

The least-worst I can do is stay the hell out of the way. Better is to wake up to everything I don’t know, have never experienced, and will never understand in my bones. To learn from people who aren’t like me, and people who know a lot more than me. To wipe the Hollywood out of my eyes, forget the grand gestures and deal with boring, difficult, insidious day-to-day reality. As one of the speakers at the large Klan counter-demonstration said:

“We do not have to start new organizations from scratch. We have experienced leadership, we have historical lessons that we can and must learn from, the struggle for justice and unity demands deep listening and humility, and more than anything a commitment to show up and do the work.”

This may not be life during wartime. But we are Living With War. We’ve been living with all kinds of wars, for a very long time, whether I only woke up to that fact recently or not.

And by opposing end them.

Taking a step back and surveying the political and civic landscape, it's a staggering sight. It's actually really hard to step back far enough to take in the entire awful picture. 

Any single part of it, any one thing, is scary to the point of sounding the alarm and spending four years fighting the good fight against. Scary to the point of standing the meaning of the traditional Passover litany of thanks on its head. Dayenu: It would have been enough

Nazis, misogynists, white supremacists, homophobes and Islamophobes as supporters. Dayenu

Nazis, misogynists, white supremacists, homophobes and Islamophobes in the cabinet and White House. Dayenu.

Vain, childish, narcissistic bullying. Dayenu.

Petty, vindictive lashing out at perceived enemies. Dayenu.

Mindless spreading of conspiracy theories and out-and-out falsehoods. Dayenu.

Lying with impunity. Dayenu.

Zero public service experience. Dayenu.

No understanding of how government works. Dayenu.

No understanding of the actual powers of a president. Dayenu.

Terrible business record, in terms of being a good corporate citizen. Dayenu.

Terrible business record, in terms of being a good businessperson. Dayenu.

Conflicts of interest so large they would make carrying out a coherent foreign policy impossible. Dayenu.

The lack of a coherent foreign policy. Dayenu.

The lack of a coherent domestic policy. Dayenu.

Individual policy positions that are terrible. Dayenu.

Tax cuts for the wealthy. Dayenu

Destroying Obamacare. Dayenu

Undermining public education. Dayenu.

Limiting access to abortion. Dayenu.

Curbing voting rights based on nonexistent voter fraud. Dayenu.

The end of a commitment to fighting climate change. Dayenu.

Plans to register citizens based on their religion. Dayenu.

Massive immigrant deportations. Dayenu.

The opportunity to nominate at least one Supreme Court justice. Dayenu.

The wall that started it all. Dayenu.

And this is still only a corner of the canvas. 

So the open question is, what do we do now? One perfectly logical response is to simply end the heartache: dive under the covers and curl up in a ball for a long, long time. Seriously. This is the most one-sided game of whack-a-mole ever. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, and another, and another. Each one requiring a different kind of response, a different coalition, a different set of tactics, an additional commitment of time, energy and brain cells. It’s all too much.

I mean, really — is it nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune? Or should we just take up our remotes and watch Netflix for the next 48 months?

And then I remember why I have the luxury of even asking that semi-rhetorical question. Yep: straight, white male. Economically stable. Have a nice house I’m not going to get kicked out of. Not exposed on a daily basis to direct or indirect assault. Not living in fear for my home, my livelihood, my rights or my life. Surfing along on centuries of privilege for people who look mostly like me. Yes, I have noticed that Nazis are planning to march in North Carolina next week. Which does hit closer to home. But overall the closest I need to get to the front lines is being part of the Political Protest As Intellectual Exercise Brigade.

So it’s easy for me to bitch and moan and try to decide whether to be or not be an active participant in resistance. The realization of which — besides pulling me down off my high horse of political righteousness — is a recurring reminder that I have to do something.

Being Jewish, the Martin Niemöller “First they came” poem is something I’m familiar with, but like most of us I never imagined it could ever be more than an historic artifact. Now, though, it’s not purely theoretical: If first they come for the Muslims, will I speak out? If first they start asking for citizenship papers, will I speak out? If first they deny basic civil rights to people who are gay or transgendered, will I speak out?

The fact that these kinds of questions have real stakes is chilling. I would love to believe this is just hysterical paranoia. That would be so much easier. But I don’t think that’s a chance we can take.

Given what we’re facing, whatever I end up doing can never be enough. Not by a long shot. But that’s never a reason to do nothing at all.

 

The circular stabbing squad.

We knew this was going to get messy. Going from shock to anger to depression to what next (oh, and back-and-forth again, believe me) creates a very circuitous path from the certainty of righteous indignation to the reality of jeez, I’ve got to burst my bubble and interact in our fuzzy, contradictory, constantly evolving, unfamiliar new reality? And that’s just on “our” side.

Well, what better for bursting a bubble than a safety pin.

It’s supposed to be a clever idea, borrowed from the United Kingdom post-Brexit, to show solidarity and identify allies.

It’s also supposed to be a commitment to take action under what may turn out to be very trying and potentially dangerous circumstances.

You’ll notice these are not the same thing. Depending on who you are, it’s not necessarily a big deal — but it’s also a very, very big deal.

If you’re wearing a pin as if it were a cancer ribbon, or a walking Facebook profile picture, you can feel good about that.

If you’re a black gay woman on a subway platform, and you’re not feeling comfortable, and you notice that a group of white men has been eying you, can you trust that the pin wearer studiously staring at a phone screen and not making eye contact is going to have your back? Is ready to step up and make sure you’re safe? What does the pin mean to you?

I’ve got to thank one of my top 10 favorite nieces for helping me think through this, and realize how much and at the same time how embarrassingly little the wearing of a pin can mean.

Here’s part of what she said:

I just feel like there are already so many people thinking they are doing well by saying I’m in solidarity and that’s sufficient — even lots of liberals can’t have a real discussion about race. This is an easy way to be, like, “I’m cool with black people,” but I don’t actually have to have a conversation. Or you might just be like, “Hey, I’m with all y’all but if someone yells ‘gay,’ too bad.” It’s another way people can say they are doing something that doesn’t mean much.

And she’s completely right. But does that mean that people who are, at the current moment, not aware enough or not brave enough or not sure enough aren’t allowed to participate at all? Many people may have had light-bulb moments after last Tuesday, but that doesn’t immediately flip the switch from uninvolved to 100% action.

My niece and I and her mom talked about the pin being the start of something — a very incomplete but for many people necessary first step toward commitment and action. It’s going to take time for some of us to get from mean well to do well.

This argument, of course, screams of white privilege — I have the luxury of taking my time and gently waking up to what many other people have always lived with. And as I’m rousing myself, people who are in real, serious physical and emotional peril have no idea if they can trust me or not.

So it’s on me, and people like me, to wake the hell up fast.

We also agreed that in a few days, maybe the meaning of the safety pin will have been sufficiently debated throughout the socialsphere and an “official” meaning will gel. And both wearers and people in need of support will agree on what it stands for.

But this is just one of countless potential landmines we’ll have to identify and talk about and step around as our new coalition-of-the-unwilling-to-take-it evolves and a structure for fighting back takes shape.

My plea: Be hard on ourselves. Be kind to each other.

There will never be a single path forward, a single type of action to take, a single answer for all of us. Beyond our universal revulsion about the results of the presidential election, we’re not all processing at the same rate. We’re not all coming from the same place. We’re not all focusing our anger at the same targets. We’re not all equally comfortable engaging with people with whom we disagree. We haven’t all thought about racism, sexism, misogyny, Islamophobia, fear of brown people, scorn for the differently abled or many other isms in the same way, with the same depth or for the same length of time.

That’s okay. It’d better be okay, because I have a lot of catching up to do.