Taking a knee

So, I don’t follow sports. I couldn’t care less about what sports season it is. And to be quite frank, I have always viewed football as an especially violent waste of time. I know that many people love their football and other sports, and that is absolutely their right—I just don’t really care. 

But there is something sports related that I do care about right now, because it has absolutely nothing to do with sports.

I know that everyone is talking about “taking a knee” from one side or the other. And yeah, I’m a fan of this peaceful protest. I understand the flag and the anthem are important symbols. At the same time, it is equally important to understand that those symbols don’t mean the same thing to everyone, and they don’t equally represent all of us.

And in the instance of black Americans, our anthem is especially problematic. We don’t typically sing all of the verses of the anthem. Quite frankly, until Colin Kaepernick started “taking a knee,” I didn’t know there were any other verses.

This is the third verse of our national anthem:

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore,
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a Country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wash’d out their foul footstep’s pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The British military recruited black slaves to fight alongside them during the War of 1812 in exchange for their freedom. At the end of the war, the American government asked for their “property” to be returned. That “property” being 6,000 human beings. Those human beings being valued like livestock—animals.

Standing for, and participating in nationalistic rituals that are counter to your personal beliefs, or that you do not understand should never be a requirement of a patriot, or a citizen. I have my own beliefs and personal reasons for not standing or pledging. And if the anthem glorified killing my people because they were fighting against their own enslavement, that reason would go to the top of my list.

As a child in elementary school, I remember reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, and singing “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” each morning at the beginning of the day. Did it hurt me? No. Did I understand anything about what those words meant? No. And nobody explained that not participating was an option.

It was just something we did. Quite frankly, it meant absolutely nothing. And for all of the people outraged by the thought that an athlete—or any other American—would choose not to stand for the national Anthem, place their hand over their heart for the flag, or any other so-called patriotic ritual, I would argue that many don’t fully understand what those symbols represent either. 

I say that, because if you understand anything about the freedoms that are actually rights in our country, you understand that peaceful protest and dissent is not a privilege—it’s a right. And it is a right that men and women have been fighting and dying for since our nation’s inception. I would go further, and say that in times of treachery, our founding fathers would have expected nothing less! 

I understand that those who have served and fought for our country can feel a very strong sense of duty and commitment to symbols they identify as patriotic. But it’s important to also remember that athletes are not going into battle. They are not soldiers. Despite it being a tradition, there is absolutely no reason to open sporting events played on our own soil with the anthem. 

Plenty of people are bringing up the point that professional athletes are being paid ridiculous amounts of money for playing a game, and they should just stand, and keep there mouths shut when the anthem is played, or the flag flown. 

This recent peaceful protest—taking a knee—started with Colin Kaepernick. After watching young black men profiled, beaten, and gunned down by the very people who swear to serve and protect, he quietly said “enough is enough.” Instead of taking to the streets to raise a fist, he quietly took a knee. 

After many well-publicized incidents of police shooting first, and skipping the part where you ask questions, the black community took to the streets in droves. Many whites described their actions as violent, criminal and they focused on those who acted inappropriately, rather than focusing on the reason for the sense of outrage. 

Unless you worry on a daily basis that your child might not come home to you alive because of their skin color, you will not ever understand what these people are going through. No mother should have to train their child to fear law enforcement just to stay alive, but quite honestly, that’s what is happening in black families. 

People argue that it’s about respect, and that if the people who have lost their lives in these incidents had just been respectful, or if they weren’t thugs and criminals things might have gone differently. That might make sense if there weren’t incidents caught on video that clearly demonstrate victims responding respectfully. And we all need to remember another important fact—within our legal system, you are innocent until proven guilty. And just like with rape culture, what you are wearing or what you “look like” shouldn’t be a factor in whether you are raped, or whether you live or die.

I know police officers have a difficult, stressful, and often dangerous job. They have to make life or death decisions quickly. At the same time, some of these decisions aren’t being made based on the information at hand, or clarity of thought. And far too often, whether you can look at the situation honestly or not, they are being made with racial bias or outright racism. 

We all know that our constitution was amended to end slavery. So, if you aren’t black, and you don’t  worry for your child’s safety because of skin color, you probably believe that it is long past time to let bygones be bygones. The black community needs to get over it, and buck up. If they simply quit bitching, blaming others and get a job, they will be as prosperous as us whites.

And that might be fair if we had stopped treating blacks like dumb animals at the end of slavery. We didn’t. And the demand that black athletes shut up and play ball is one of the most public displays of this mentality that I can think of besides all of the historic photos of lynchings, all of the covered bodies on the evening news, the disproportionate incarceration of blacks, and the cell phone videos showing the last moments of lives that have been unceremoniously dispatched. 

We don’t care if a black athlete beats his wife, tortures and kills animals, or commits other violent crimes, as long as he helps our team make it to the playoffs or Super Bowl. We are fine with blacks, as long as they are mindful of their place. We are fine with them, as long as, like dumb animals, they are crashing into each other for our gross, sadistic pleasure, entertainment and satisfaction. 

As a society that still treats people of color as inferior, we refused, and continue refusing to hear the words coming from the mothers, family members, neighbors and community leaders about black lives being discarded. Their voices have gotten louder again, because the environment for hatred has been nurtured and cultivated by those who benefit from working class whites believing that all young black men are dangerous thugs. 

But nobody heard these “voices” until their Sunday afternoon entertainment became “uncomfortable.” It’s amazing to me that the quietest of “whispers” has sparked such tremendous outrage.

Taking a knee didn’t start with the hateful, racist remarks of Donald Trump. It didn’t start with Colin Kaepernick. It won’t be the last peaceful protest on the seemingly endless road to treating all human beings as—human beings. There will be loud protests. There will be more violence. There will be more loss. 

All of this will happen because we continue to believe in people who benefit from racist, classist division.

There is no such thing as being a little bit racist. There is no such thing as being “old school” about race. We need to take a good long, hard look at ourselves, and understand who we are. We need to understand the part we play in this situation.

Educator and activist Jane Elliott addressed the treatment of blacks in America better than anyone could. She offered up the following scenario to a group of students:

I want every white person in this room, who would be happy to be treated as this society in general treats our citizens, our black citizens. If you as a white person would be happy to receive the same treatment that our black citizens do in this society - please stand! - You didn't understand the directions. If you white folks want to be treated the way blacks are in this society - stand! - Nobody is standing here. That says very plainly that you know what's happening. You know you don't want it for you. I want to know why you are so willing to accept it or to allow it to happen for others.

The quiet act of kneeling only harms you if you don’t want to be so loudly confronted by the darkest part of who you are. 

Friendship, and the fear of my own "extreme."

So, there are times I let myself slide away. I just give into my own weirdness and anxiety, and I allow it to steer me in ways that don't even make sense--especially in friendships. I find myself letting the heaviness of stress, and the drowning feeling of inadequacy take me to a place where I am certain that I simply can't be enough, or worse yet, that I am way beyond too much. 

I have found myself on this slide a lot lately. It's been a busy, up and down few months. The universe, it seems, decided we were due for some ups and downs again, and as much as we should feel well-trained for just about anything, sometimes, you just get caught off guard. Sometimes, you have to choose where to place your strength, and it doesn't get to be with coping or self-care. 

Is it with your professional hopes and dreams, because you have a family to support? Is it with your child, because she is going through some big challenges, and needs heavy guidance? Is it with your spouse, because at the end of the day, they are the relationship you will be left with when everyone else leaves? Is it with your friendships that always feel somewhat fragile, and irreplaceable? 

The pressure of making the right choices about your strength, often leaves you struggling. It leaves you questioning and doubting yourself. You second-guess the simplest of ideas and thoughts. 

While the summer has been filled with a lot to process, it has also brought new friendship, and reignited fiercely important long-term friendships as well. I have worked to push myself out of my comfortable, introverted box, and I have tried to let people know that they matter in my life, at least in part, because I am so anxious that I might mess everything up. 

Stress, old trauma, old mistakes, and anxiety squeeze me like a vice at times.

A friend once told me that she and her husband had considered my husband and I as potential guardians for their child because of my extreme nature. She knew that if I were to be a guardian for her child, I would always go over the top, and to the extreme. I have never forgotten that conversation, and while I know that she couldn't possibly feel the same way about me being the guardian of her child today, I wouldn't doubt that she still views me as extreme. I think about it. Sometimes, it embarrasses me, because maybe it reflects a lack of self-control. Other times, I am able just to shrug it off, and think 'why not?'

Under pressure and under stress, I tend to default to that state of scarlet embarrassment. With new friendships, I worry that I might come across as needy, pushy, and desperate--scaring off people I am getting to know. With long-term friendships, I worry that my "extreme" side will lead me down the road of old mistakes, and acting without expressing intent. 

Having gone through a season of losing almost every important friendship I had, I am now at times so afraid of my "extreme" pushing people away again. And when you have lost almost everyone at once, the fear of losing people again can be crushing, and almost paralyzing. 

My daughter's drawing
 of herself and her best friend. 

There are many terrible things about such fear. The paralysis prevents you from truly embracing others, and even embracing the person you are happy to be when you are with them. It colors every move you make. It stops you from making mistakes, but it stops you from experiencing life, and being completely vulnerable. 

I watch my daughter play with other kids. She's going through a hitting, screaming, grabbing things away stage. So are other kids near her age. It's awful to watch. At the same time, I see her desperate for social interaction, and every new person she plays with becomes an instant friend. I took her to a local farm that runs a corn maze and other fall activities yesterday. She met a little girl, and they played together while we were there. As we walked to catch the wagon ride, my daughter sweetly and fearlessly grabbed the girl's hand. They happily walked together, leaving her mother and I walking behind. 

One of the rare times I grabbed a hand. 

It would rarely occur to me to allow myself that kind of vulnerability--the open comfort of a friend's hand. And yet, this has been a summer in which I probably should have grabbed for a hand many times over. There were at least two times this week alone when something bothered me so much, I wanted to reach out and grab for a hand, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't weigh someone else down with my feelings, because I didn't feel like they were worthy. 

I have even been so worried about my "extreme" that I allowed it to stop me simply from asking to share time with my friends--both new and old. Like a vampire, I waited to be "invited," because stress, anxiety and self-doubt have allowed me to seem strange to myself. And if I am strange to myself, how can I not be strange to others? 

How can I even share this strangeness here? I suppose it's because a blank page holds no possible judgment . It allows and asks for as much or as little as I am in a moment, and that makes it a safe place to be as strange as I am. 

I have been lucky. Despite my own worries, my friends have been willing to "invite" me in these last few months. They probably haven't known that I sat thinking about reaching for their hands, but was afraid I might squeeze too tightly. They haven't realized that I wanted to share time, but was worried I might take too much. They haven't been a party to the self-analysis, and the times I have chastised myself for overthinking things that should be easy. They don't know that I have had to remind myself that oftentimes, we find ourselves falling into friendships with people because something about them reflects back to us, and validates the very crazy that we are trying to control in ourselves. 

I will never be able to shake the label of "extreme." And I will probably always live up to it in ways that both embarrass me, and drive me to go after things and experiences with passion. As I look at friendships, and as I worry about who I am--more than I probably should--I hope that somehow, I may continue to be invited when I am too scared of myself to ask, and that I might start to learn how to grab for hands again.