I was raised with values that serve me to this day. They include acceptance of myself and others, embracing differences and uniqueness, an appreciation for nature, a solid work ethic, a love of learning, personal responsibility for my choices, the spirit of volunteerism, strong faith, cleaning up after myself and being part of community. My parents modeled those aspects for our family. They both worked hard, raised my sister and me, as equal partners. My dad wasn’t ‘the babysitter’ and didn’t ‘help’ my mom with housework. He was the daddy who took equal responsibility for child raising (although, due to their schedules, she did spend more time with us) and upkeep of our home. She didn’t need to ask him to do any of those things, he simply took them on as his role. Keep in mind, that this was back in the 50s-70s when men and women had more disparate gender roles. I’m not sure what his parents modeled for him as he grew up, but I imagine that my grandfather was the hard working breadwinner for the family that included four children and because my grandmother was a SAHM, she did most of the heavy lifting with home and child care. He worked as a presser in a clothing factory. My dad was first generation American born of Russian Jewish immigrants who fled the pogrom, thus blessedly, preventing our family being in the Holocaust. They wanted to assimilate into the existing American culture, which always struck me as odd, since ‘American culture’ is a beautiful blend of many and varied cultures, while simultaneously holding close to their hearts, their own. They spoke Yiddish in the home and English out in the world. Interestingly, neither my father, nor his siblings had a Yiddish accent.
My parents were active volunteers well into their later years. They voted and told us about the importance of exercising that right, taking us in to the voting booths with them when we were young. They voted Dem up and down ballot as do I.
We spoke about values and why it was important to do certain things. Although Judaism was our family practice, my sister and I were allowed to visit churches of friends with the caveat that we needed to ‘remember who you are’. Translated to ‘don’t convert’. In 1999 when I enrolled in seminary to become an interfaith minister, my mother’s question was “are you converting?” When I assured her that I wasn’t, but instead expanding my perspective, she gave me her blessing. She and my dad flew up from Florida to the exquisite Cathedral of St. John the Divine to watch me graduate and receive my ordination. That was a pivotal day for so many reasons, but their presence put the cherry on the sundae.
While there was discipline and structure, there was nothing even slightly resembling abuse. My parents spoke to each other and us with love and respect. Raised voices were rare. If we witnessed our parents arguing, we also witnessed them making up. They were affectionate in word and deed with each other and us as well. Hugs and kisses were as nourishing and necessary as food. I never feared for my safety in my home. I carried that mindset out into all of my relationships with friends and partners over the years. I have this image of being a human haven in which folks can feel safe and secure, knowing that I hold their hearts sacred.
With all that is happening in this country and by extension, the world, I need to maintain a calm and balanced center. I do my best to stay informed, but not inundated. I have severely cut news watching since I feel barraged. When I hear the voice of the current occupant of the Oval Office, I have a visceral response (I know I’m not alone in that) like nails on a chalk board and a gut twisting ugggh feeling. Admittedly, being on social media throughout the day, I am exposed to memes, articles, videos and opinion pieces. Hard to know what is accurate and what is AI. Sad that we have to fact check everything these days. What shows up are troll and bot filled responses to even the most benign statements. Hatred, vile, vicious, bigotry, slimy, icky, yucky, racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic comments abound. Sometimes I call them out with the simple question: How does this administration reflection your personal values, morals and ethics? Often….crickets, sometimes boomerang insults…Libtard, Dumbocrat. I laugh and shake my head. Their minds must be so dark and their hearts hardened with hatred. I truly do feel sorry for them.
I consider their likely upbringing, probably not a whole lot like mine. I imagine a legacy of bigotry, fear, misogyny, patriarchal control, religious rigidity, political fist pounding, abuse in the home, generational poverty OR excessive wealth that might have them thinking they are owed supremacy and entitled to whatever they wish. When someone approaches the world with those ingrained experiences, it might be challenging to see people as anything beyond ‘other’ if they didn’t grow up with the same mindset. People fear that which they don’t understand or can’t relate to.
There are times when I am out and about in a store, or on the streets of local towns and wonder about people’s beliefs and who they support. It is not politics that interests me. It is social justice. Unless they are wearing identifying clothing or hats (fewer and farther between these days), I don’t know their mindset. I was in a supermarket a few days ago and saw a woman about my age, wearing a hat with the word FREEDOM on it, which aligns with Charlie Kirk. I thought about asking her what the hat meant to her but I wasn’t prepared for any potential pushback. I just beamed good energy her way, hoping for a healing of her heart.
How can we address these dramatic differences in a safe and sane way? I have said often that I am willing to have heart to heart conversations with those on the other side of the aisle, if I know I am safe. I can’t imagine one of his supporters having anything to fear from speaking with me. Truth be told, I am not only interested in hearing their perspective, but to plant seeds for change of mind and heart.
The reality is, regardless of who is in office, what is happening in the world, we all do live on the same planet, drink the same water and breathe the same air. How can we find common ground? There is nothing hippy dippy about wanting rights for all. There is nothing crunchy granola about wanting a sustainable planet for the next generations. There is nothing ‘woke’ about a firm and foundational belief that people should be able to live and love in the kind of adult relationships they choose in the body and gender identity that they feel best represents them.
My own credo around this:
If I didn’t believe healing is possible, I couldn’t do my work as a therapist.
If I didn’t believe the words I say and write could touch people’s hearts and minds, I couldn’t continue to be a journalist.
If I didn’t believe peace and collective positive action could change the world, I wouldn’t show up, stand up and speak out.
If I didn’t believe all people have inherent worth, I wouldn’t see them through the eyes of love.
If I didn’t believe healthy, nurturing touch by consent is life sustaining, I wouldn’t do my FREE HUGS thing.
These are what get me out of the bed in the morning, when the world is too much with me.
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