By now we are all quite familiar with the Kony 2012 campaign that has taken the internet by storm. Of course this may damage my ethos, the fact that I have not watched the video, and that I don’t intend to watch it anytime in the future. In that case, the good thing is that I won’t be writing about the Kony 2012 movement, per se, but the bad thing is that I will be writing about all of you–first world mass media users. How troubling and mysterious it will be to hold the mirror up to both myself and to society at large. . .
So about a week ago the video started appearing on my newsfeed, followed by a long train of accolades that ran the entire gambit between “Oh the ramifications of social justice and the globalization of human welfare, alas to the future!” and “See ya later, dictator.” Soon thereafter, as often happens with any “mass movement,” the backlashes likewise began to appear. . . “Where were you years ago, bandwagoners?”, “What do you expect to change you first-world bastard?” and my personal favorite. . . “One does not simply overthrow an African dictator by liking a Facebook status.” A cyber battle soon conquered my cleverly itemized news feed, between those who thought they were doing something and those who criticized them. . . But we all know this, we all use Facebook, and we all creep on our friends for a good 4+ hours a day.
So allow me to offer some questions and analyses. . . Do the thousands/millions of people who like a particular status and repost a certain video expect to change anything? Obviously, or else they would not do it. Nothing on Facebook is arbitrary; it’s the public identity we seek to construct, so obviously we are very conscious about what we post and allow to be posted about ourselves.
One of the most prominent criticisms I’ve seen is “Do you actually expect to overthrow a dictator with Facebook?”, to which I respond “Is that the immediate goal of every Facebook user who has participated in this movement?” Surely they don’t think that their actions will proximally lead to the potential overthrow of an international criminal, but is that something to criticize? By posting a video and liking a status, they are simply affirming the issue, coming out of whatever ignorance they might have been in and saying “I see this, and I acknowledge it.” Just as many of you will like my Facebook status that links this blog, affirming both the existence of this post and the fact that you have read it. Does that mean you know everything about me, or even that you CLAIM to know everything about me? Certainly not. Acknowledging the existence of a problem is the first step to understanding it. By posting and liking, they do not claim to know everything about the issue, but they are certainly on the right path. They’re holding up the mirror and looking into it, thinking “This may be across the globe, but I recognize myself within it. Some implicit and fundamentally human tie binds me to these children and to these people.” While they may be seeking change, and certainly that is a noble goal, more importantly they’re affirming the humanity of those to whom it has been denied. They’re saying “You exist to us, we know you are there.” They are lifting the veil and beginning the dialogue, and through this perhaps change WILL occur.
Likewise, I feel much of the animosity towards this movement lies not within its content but within its context. Something about the Facebook/twitter trend has pissed people off, the fact that the movement is a “fad” somehow profanes it in the eyes of humanitarian elitists. But to this I ask: is this not the purpose of mass social media? Shouldn’t we be HAPPY that something is trending that is not Jersey Shore baby-daddy’s or Jessica Simpson’s naked-preggo-pictures? Heaven forbid that global media engender global awareness; that people hop on the bandwagon of supporting a movement for justice; that people acknowledge the issue even if they don’t understand the intricacies. Shame on you for trying to help, because you’re not doing it well enough. How presumptuous of you to think that your cyber-opinion matters in the grand scheme. These people don’t need your elitist sympathy, you’re only revealing your pretensions. I hope you feel good about yourself, enjoy relapsing into comfortable apathy.
Lastly I ask, what are people trying to prove by criticizing those that support the campaign? Are you trying to lord your intellectual superiority over the masses, the fact that you understand all the subtleties of Uganda’s political topography? Your global acumen is certainly something we should all aspire too, but is there not a better way to set an example than knocking people down? Is it not your responsibility as a more informed individual to guide those who may be misinformed into true understanding, rather than insulting them? Perhaps it is time that you hold the mirror up to yourself as well, and consider what change you are affecting through your actions. Elitism benefits no one, save one’s own ego. Why respond to a lack of understanding with a lack of respect? In this process you fall short as well.
All in all, this was a rather impromptu and poorly organized blog, but I needed to get on my soapbox, even if for a brief moment. Let us consider what WE, the collective US–that means YOU + ME not ME – THEM–are trying to accomplish. There are greater things at stake than a Ugandan dictator. How can we preserve the humanity of those who are oppressed, if we undermine the humanity of those right next to us by disrespecting them? Perhaps I’m too idealistic, but I think this a great movement, and a great opportunity to raise global awareness of an issue. By no means is it the road to comprehensive understanding, but it has opened the door. We all walk this path together, let us help those that travel with us, instead of pushing them aside in order to get ahead. It doesn’t matter how much we know or don’t know, if we don’t understand how to respect people.
The Art of Getting Lost:
During my freshmen year of college, my girlfriend and I would frequently take late night drives, and during the course of these wanderings we probably drove nearly every county road within a 50+ mile radius of Waco. A certain serenity permeated these drives as we traveled along the edge of the surreal, reality and youthful fancy coalesced–the stars shone with greater luster, awash in idyllic lunar lambency, or, sometimes the racing trails and tympanic meters of raindrops on the sunroof lulled our ever-hastening minds into a somber and tranquil catharsis. I usually drove, quickly yet steadily, knowing the favorite haunts and lairs of small-town cops, and, although my eyes rarely wandered to meet my passenger’s own, welcomed gestures reassured me of her presence. We rarely played music, and if we did, the selections spoke in ways that we could not, be it subtle ambivalence, bashful hopefulness, or unspeakable grief; we both had pasts and baggage, but no desire or compulsion for releasing these monsters crossed our minds–the mutual knowledge was enough, the other’s very presence served as a sufficient response. We stopped where the roads led us, the destinations were of our own choosing, parking lots to watch the lightning, parks to view the stars, and on the return journey her steady breathing feigned sleep, but nevertheless she remained awake, eyes fixed on the trees and stars. With her hand lightly placed upon mine, we reluctantly journeyed back across the threshold of the every day, the succession of familiar exits and buildings chided our vanity and portended the onslaught of our daily routines.
Almost 3 years ago, these nightly escapes flooded my mind not only with memories and sorrows, but also with dreams and aspirations. I came to Baylor as a shell, bearing the face and body of a David I had long since released. I pulled the chain of my “high-school self”, determined to drain every last dreg so that I could start anew and recreate myself. I have a remarkable talent for burning bridges, and not only am I ruthlessly efficient, but I also have few qualms with turning my back on the conflagration. What’s done is done, if you push me out of the sandbox, chances are I’m not coming back. The irony, perhaps tragedy, is that as I approach my last year at Baylor, I find myself preparing to repeat the process, for 3 years now I have cleared the way and constructed the pyre, and there is little doubt that I will set fire to this monument as soon as I turn my back on Waco for the last time. Is this a bad thing? Perhaps. I often find myself lonely, but more often I find myself content, this hubris can be both my greatest flaw and asset.
Many times I wish things could have gone differently, that I could have said or done things differently, but living in the past serves no one well. Nevertheless, much can be learned from the travails of the past, and this post, in many ways delineates my efforts to do just that.
For all my flaws, I have an impeccable sense of direction, in every sense of the word. In many ways, one of the primary purposes of my nightly Freshman year outings was to try to get lost, to take every random turn and unknown road that crossed my path until I could truly say that I had gotten lost. I suppose it all stemmed from a desire to run away to somewhere where I would have to be found. Throughout my whole life I have struggled and faced many hardships from nearly every direction, by no means do I consider my lot unique , and I recognize that others face the same, and even more dire, situations daily. But a special significance lies in one’s own tribulations, a sense of entitlement that we are often reluctant to admit, for we ascribe reality to that which we experience directly, and perceived reality (whether or not it be more True) can often be lost in translation due to interference from our own personal bias. Many times in my life I have been on the verge of “getting lost”, of crossing that threshold of no return, but without fail I have always managed to “find myself”. Whatever it may be, there exists in me some intuitive compulsion that triggers in these liminal moments, which prevents me from taking that fatal step or turning that final corner. Rarely, if not never, have I had someone with me, a guide or companion to steel my heart and steady my step, I have always discarded the trappings of my destruction of my own volition. I am incapable of implosion, incapable of getting lost, and incapable of surrender.
That’s how we embarked on our drives, my girlfriend and I, so unbreakable, hardened by grief and fortified with years of isolated self-preservation protecting our most cherished cores, the inviolable “us”. Every night in silence, we stood at each others walls, lowering the ladders more and more each encounter until at last we surmounted these hinderances and gazed upon the true reflection of the other’s self. Such a moment I will never forget. . . I was 18, away in college and a seemingly new man–is this what relationships were like after high school? Had I finally shaken the Furies of my past? Sadly, no sooner than this revelation had graced my eyes did it fade into the recesses of my past, stored away and catalogued among my other failed attempts at mutual humanity. The relationship withered just as quickly as it had blossomed, with a steel countenance I set fire to the first bridge the “new me” had built, and I continued on into the distance never looking back except when the gales of my memory bore the images, vivid as ever, back into my foremost thoughts.
Affected, unaffected, and mostly disaffected, I returned to Baylor and repeated the cycle. The loss of a romantic companion compelled me to seek solace in the presence of an intellectual counterpart, far removed from the pedantries of college relationships, in which I could confide the struggles and stirrings of my mind. A wonderful and unlikely friendship was constructed, but again, I set fire to this well-wrought edifice and continued on with the embers still glowing.
The unlikely encounter of two distinct spirits framed the misgivings of my failed attempts at friendship, two wanderers going in no particular direction with no deliberate hurry, who enjoyed the company of the other, decided to undertake this journey together. Just as my girlfriend Freshman year and I had been extremely similar, this time she and I were remarkably dissimilar, and this is what sparked the attraction and intrigue. Constant conversation broke the customary silence of my former relationships, drawing me out of my comfort zone, far away from the familiar. This relationship filled with happiness and joy spanned my entire junior year, immune to the buffets of outside storms, it all passed in an instant. Tranquil seas soon turned stormy, and faced with the necessity of self-preservation I walked away rather than sinking with the ship. Just as Odysseus laid with Circe for almost a year amidst pleasure’s delirium before the passage of time troubled his mind, so too did a sense of duty and selfhood eventually lead me away from the specious bounties.
And so I walked away, my countenance marred by outpours of emotion, but nevertheless I shall continue on. Even so, I’m led to ask–have I finally gotten lost? Have I taken one too many turns, and crossed one too many boundaries? I have allowed myself to be drawn so far away from that which is myself, will I ever find my way back? No doubt the flames of many bridges will warm my back as I constantly tread forward, such is the nature of the game, and it avails no one to watch them burn in longing.
That is my nature though, I continue on, ever-pressing towards my goal. And now it has become increasingly clear to me that my goal is, in fact, to get lost, to reach that point where I no longer walk forward, with my back to the past and eyes fixed on the horizon, and to reach that location where I can linger, where the path ends and the virgin meadow begins. Here the zephyrs will softly greet me, free of the familiar ashen scent of cinders and sorrows. Here I shall meet my true Muse, on the boundary of where my epic ends and life’s true journey begins.
Recreation:
I’ve been wanting to write this blog post for a long time. A very long time (if you hadn’t noticed, my daily exercise has nearly become a monthly one!). Anyways. . . Needless to say these past 5-or-so weeks have been a whirlwind. It’s like the baking soda and vinegar in the jar called my life have finally mixed, and everything has blown up (that will have to suffice for lack of a better metaphor). I don’t want to bore you with the intimate details of my life, in fact, I don’t want to make you remotely privy–sorry internet community. But all of these occurrences have led me to reflect on my life as a whole, how I’ve lived it, and how we all fit together in society.
Personally, I can divide my life into distinctly unique segments, and consequently, I can identify a certain “shade” of myself that I have highlighted based on given the circumstances. I guess in many ways I don’t have a typical “strong personality”, I configure myself in such a way that I fit with those around me. I don’t prefer to call it acquiescence, I’d much rather call it the “path of least resistance”–my defense mechanism of choice. Subsequently, there is very little confrontation in my life, and when there is–I certainly don’t handle it well.
Remember those toys in elementary school, where you had the see-thru color paddles, and you could overlap different ones to see create different colors?
I believe that’s how we present ourselves, we always appear as shades of ourselves. (Now is a good time to refer to my previous post about faith and lenses!). But, just as in faith, where we can see the underlying truth through any number of lenses, the same is also true with ourselves. No matter which shade we choose, there is always the underlying truth of our selves, aka our self-ness, not to be confused with “ourselves”.
Teenagers are a classic example of this phenomenon, because many are driven to match the shade of the “popular group”. They desire to be identified as part of that group, as the same shade; if all the “populars” are yellow, then those who desire to be popular will subsequently try to present themselves as yellow. The tragedy occurs when the seekers are denied, for the basic truth of their selves does not match the “selfness” of the “true” yellows.
A wise women once told me that truly getting to know someone is like peeling an onion; it takes time, and it usually makes you cry. A very accurate metaphor–discovering the core of a person requires seeing through the different shades of their presented “self” including both the placid blue shades as well the volatile red shades. It is difficult, and it is rarely achieved, but it is certainly worth it.
The same applies for ourselves TO ourselves. . . I think it’s equally rare that a person sees their true self that lies beyond their many shades. A lot of the reason for that, I believe, is that when we appear in a certain shade we also “feel” that shade. It makes sense that when we are angry, we feel angry. We don’t get many opportunities to analyze ourselves free from the influence of our many shades.
So how does this apply to me? Some people prefer to always appear as one shade. They see themselves as exclusively orange people, and thus they do everything they can to “be” orange. For whatever reason they think that the “orangeness” they exert best represents the truth of their self, as they understand it. These people are your typical “strong personalities”, and any affront to their “orangeness” is a cause for conflict. Me on the other hand; I prefer to match my shade to those around me, to change and configure my shade so that it’s compatible with whomever I’m with and their shade. In many ways I enjoy being able to present so many different sides of myself to people, some people know me as “blue” others as “red” or “green”, and so on. While this may lead to comfortable and conflict-free relationships, it also leads to superficial relationships, and a lot of this is my fault. Since I assume such a passive-role in relationships, simply configuring myself to the needs of the relationship, I rarely have much stake in the relationship. Also, whenever conflict arises, I simply try to change something about myself to alleviate the situation (i.e. appeasement) rather than addressing the issue at hand aggressively and directly.
How does this apply to society? Time to complicate the metaphor. . . Just as we create ourselves as shades, I believe we also fit together as puzzle pieces. All of our relationships represent a different side of our “piece” and our role in the relationship represents our “configuration”, so tospeak. It makes sense that we interlock comfortable with those with whom we are “compatible”, just as puzzle pieces easily interlock with their complementary pieces. Just as I assume a passive role in relationships, so too are the majority of my puzzle piece sides inwardly configured, very few of my sides are configured to reach out and lock with another piece, rather I wait to receive another piece that will lock with me. Because of my predominantly inward configuration, it is difficult for me to find a place within a group because I wouldn’t fit (just as in the picture, where the required piece would need two inwardly and two outwardly configured sides. . . ). As such, I tend to be rather nomadic, finding a relationships towards the outsides of a group, where I more easily fit with just one or two people. . .
So where has all of this brought me? All in all, these past few weeks have taught be to be more flexible, and to be more willing to invest myself in relationships. I’ve realized that sometimes this requires me to overcome my natural passivity and to assert myself as a player within a relationship, to assert my own shade and require compromise and flexibility from the other party. That fitting in to society does not always mean configuring oneself to one’s surrounding to avoid conflict, but rather asserting oneself into his or her circumstances and facing the consequences with courage. I had previously thought that my chameleon-like ways were a necessary survival mechanism, and perhaps they were, but they were grounded in cowardice, a cowardice that prevented me from engaging with those around me, and subsequently with myself.
Faith and Lenses
I wrote this miniature essay a long time ago, but I really think it’s important–especially concerning a post I’m writing at this very moment that concerns the recreation of ourselves, and how we can appear in any number of shades. Please enjoy!
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I apologize ahead of time for my very free use of words such as faith and spirituality; this is not meant to be a dissertation centered on definition and semantics but rather a contemplative entry of personal experience and reflection.
Faith and spirituality are very sensitive subjects for people and being as such, many people are afraid to talk about them—at least to people with different view and opinions. Faith is a fortress, and no wall can have a flaw lest the strength of the fortress be compromised. Instead of opening the gates and allowing this fortress and its surroundings to grow and thrive, I find that many people lock themselves inside merely to build their walls higher.
Such has been my experience as a Quasi-Catholic at Baylor. Believe me, I’ve heard it all. I’m a papist; I worship the pope, Mary, and the Saints. Inherently I am closed-minded, vengeful, condemning, and an elitist. Perhaps these individual instances would prove to be a sweeping generalization if I were to apply the consequential inferences onto the “Baylor” population as a whole. Although I am rarely personally admonished for being Catholic, I find that I am treated with an interesting bias by many of my friends and acquaintances in general. They treat me as though I am misguided and to be pitied, my spiritual journey is wayward and my walk with Jesus is dreadfully askew. I am viewed as though my faith is lacking and my spirituality is deficient, simply because my faith is different.
An interesting reflection I had one night concerning faith was about how we essentially wear our faith as glasses through which our view of the world is altered. Naturally we measure and judge another’s “faith” in comparison to our own faith, for there is no other guideline; no scale by which the weight of one’s faith is measured, or graduated cylinder into which the volume of one’s “faith pool” can be poured. Furthermore I think of faith like colored lenses through which we view things. Imagine you have a red, yellow, and blue lens, all of which of course, represent a faith view. Naturally some people look through a blue lens and some people look through a red lens, some may even look through a yellow lens. I find that people with blue lenses only talk to other people with blue lenses, and the same applies to all the other colors. Their faith is blue, their world is blue and any other color is incorrect, simply because it’s not blue. Well let’s say for instance my lens is yellow. I am perfectly fine conversing with other yellows and seeing my world yellow, but I don’t see the harm in interacting with blues. For when I interact with a blue our lenses overlap and for a short time we see the world as green, our faiths and our views blend and are exchanged through this interaction. Does this mean that through simple interaction my view will remain green forever because I interacted with a blue? No, because after the interaction is over we both part ways and take our lenses back with us, and again they see blue and I see yellow. Now say in that interaction there is a particular aspect of the world I like even better as green, that is more rational and logical as green. It makes no sense simply to deny the compelling logic of greenness simply because it is not pure yellowness, for you cannot have green without yellow in the first place. Ask the blue for a piece of a blue lens, add it to your yellow lens, and see that part of the world is green. A small section of two lenses overlapping does not adulterate the yellowness of other sections of the lens. Repeat this process as necessary, converse with red, greens, oranges, etc. etc. etc.
Truly mature faith cannot be a single colored lens. It may be built upon such, but faith is not black and white it’s a gradient of everything in between. If faith were meant to be black and white so too would be everything we see; we see everything in different colors, because there is no less truth in one color than in another.
I believe the same applies to people who claim non-faith or anti-faith. I don’t think I should avoid them, fearing that their lack of faith might be contagious. More importantly, I don’t think that I should try to “fix” them, try to make them see the world in the shade of color that is “true and correct”.
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More to come!
Familiarity:
Today will be a short and rather reminescent post, logging the progress of a journey that I’ve been on my entire life.
My maternal grandfather, Paul Lindblad, died five years ago, a victim of Alzheimers. He entered a nursing home about 10 years before that, and starting exhibiting symptoms even earlier than that. . . Needless to say my memories of him outside of a nursing home are minimal, and in most of them I recollect him being distant and aloof. In many ways, my memories betray his legacy, because they present a completely different picture of Paul Lindblad than the stories I hear from family and friends. This contradiction in images has been a conflict my whole life; stories of a lively and adventurous man constantly battling against my memories of a mentally, physically, and emotionally atrophic shell. So for me it was almost as if the Paul Lindblad of the past never existed–his current state always invalidated his previous “self”, prevented it from existing in my mind. I refused to allow him to ever have been himself, he was what I made him. It’s almost cruel–a man no longer able to create and become himself, completely “uncreated”, but it’s how I coped. Knowing how he was made me envious and sad, invested me in the situation, but through my insistence I was able to position myself in a position of apathy, and sadly, it’s what I preferred. Perhaps the most difficult part of the situation was constantly facing being told how similar we were. I was a child and he was a veritable vegetable, how could we be similar? I didn’t want to be like this man, the cause of financial hardship and familial strife. I have two memories of him that have stuck with me through the years:
First, I went to visit him with my grandmother, I was young and still played baseball (probably around 6th grade) and his disease had not progressed to the extremes yet–he was still able to walk on his own and communicate. A sidenote on baseball: I used to be good, it was definitely my sport. I was a left-handed pitcher (just like my grandfather), and I went to all the camps and even had a private pitching coach. My grandfather had always told me that he’d teach me “the tricks” (or so I was told by my family, I don’t actually remember him saying that. . . ), after all, who better to teach me than a 3-time World Series champion, left handed, relief pitcher? So we were in a courtyard at the nursing home/hospital and we were playing catch, enjoying some of the only 1-on-1 time we’ve ever had, until he asked if I’d like to learn how to throw a curveball and splitter–the real kinds, not the ones that modern coaches teach you that screw up your elbow. Gladly I consented, but my joy turned to disappointment and his to despairing anger. He just couldn’t do it, he could throw a baseball but when he tried to remember how to throw specific pitches, much less explain to me the mechanics, he couldn’t. . . It’s sad that one of my most vivid memories of him is one of inability and disappointment. At the time, this memory further reinforced the fact that the old Paul Lindblad was gone and that the new Paul Lindblad was decadent.
My second memory was equally as sad as the first, but was also horrifying. I was probably around the same age (4th-8th grade are all kind of a blur. . . ), and both of my parents were busy so I had to go spend the day with my grandmother. My grandfather was being transferred from one nursing home to another, so I had to accompany my grandmother who was there to help the process (as much as she could, at least. . . ). The trip was relatively uneventful, except for one instance: they had gotten my grandfather to the new nursing home, and for some reason he became quite aggressive and violent, the doctors and nurses attributed this to hallucinations, so about 5 people held him down while another administred Haloperidol (aka, Haldol), which is an antipsychotic drug as well as a mild sedative. After this, my grandfather was completely passive. . . Again, this just reaffirmed to me that he was less than human, that from that point on the slightest step out of line was cause for sedation, freedom was long forgotten in the inaccessible banks of his memory.
In light of these memories, I asked myself again, “How can I be like him? How in the world are we similar?” Amidst the darkness of all the circumstances, there was always one light. My grandmother, a remarkable example of fortitude, visited the nursing home every day, with very few exceptions. I cannot even imagine the pain it must have caused her to see the slow degeneration of her husband every day for over 10 years. . . And eventually she was alone, even their three children gradually withdrew–visited less often, etc., just as I refused to acknowledge the old Paul, they refused to give him up. What love, to stand by the one you love, even though he may not be able to stand, risking that he may not even recognize you, a familiar face from memories that are just beyond reach.
My apathy has long since gone, and the love my grandmother showed him has taken root in my journey to find this familiar spirit. His sickness no longer pushes me away, but something about him draws me forward, maybe we are similar. . . The stories of my childhood have taken a whole new meaning, it wouldn’t be so bad to be like this man. He was on the MLB All-Star team in 1975, but forgot his jersey to the game–something I would definitely do. . . He was often seen searching the fields he played at with a metal detector–smart, and economic. . . . The stories are endless, I hear more every day, and they now make me glad, because now I choose to listen and hear, rather than completely disregarding their form and substance. I don’t physically have much that reminds me of my grandfather, but what I have is enough–a few baseball cards and a glove that’s too small. Although my grandfather was certainly an exceptional baseball player, as is noted by this wonderful tribute to him, there was so much more to him–and these items remind me of that. They compel me to search for the Paul that I only knew through stories, to tap into that same adventurous and fearless spirit that drove him straight to the hearts of people he met.
There is certainly something that transcends a beautiful life and a tragic death, something worth searching for, and I know we all have similar stories–comfortable disillusionment turned to enterprising hope, and it’s all part of the journey, the best clues are often the best hidden.
There is so much more to this post that I could never include–I could never cover everything that I’m thinking and feeling as I write this, but I hope it makes sense and that you’ve enjoyed it.
It’s obvious where I get my good looks and pretty handwriting from, no?
DM
Homosexuality Part 2: Homophobia and Hatred
Using Amanda’s comment on my previous post as a springboard (and my own desire to bring this topic to a conclusion), I’ve decided to address my opinions on homophobia in this post. I apologize for the unpolished nature of my last post–I literally hit enter and ran out the door of my office to my next job and had no time to edit! Hopefully I’ll get better about that, I certainly need to improve on proof-reading and editing my papers, so thanks Melissa for the constructive criticism 
.
I’ve also gotten some feed-back that people mistakenly think that my last post addresses my own personal struggle with homosexuality. Such is untrue, I am far too enamoured with the women-folk; I was just addressing the struggle between how I think about homosexuality.
I have a sneaking suspicion that my discourse on homophobia will be significantly less “philosophical/logical” (if I dare categorize my previous post as such. . .) and more “emotional”, which is unsurprising because I have strong feelings about the issue. So bear with me!
Any scientific inquiry, mathematical proof, or otherwise syllogical/deductive endeavor always begins with a given. If there were no given, there would be nothing from which to deduce. . . (Of course, hyper-theoreticians debate the necessity/validity of givens, but as an undergraduate history major I am wholly unqualified to discuss such. . . ). So for my forthcoming argument I assert the following given: Hatred is a negative.
What exactly do I mean by “a negative”? I use the term rather loosely, as hatred is negative in almost every regard: negative momentum, negative energy, etc. I’ve positioned hatred as such, becuase I’m going to attempt to answer the question: Ultimately, what do we gain? To what purpose? And do the ends justify the means? Let’s consider a historical example: The Crusades. Probably one of my biggest problems with the Crusades is how they are taught to children in school. Not only are the Crusades one of the most notorious examples of the power of hate, but they are neatly compartmentalized into a justified “end-means pill” that society can swallow. We are taught a twisted version of the story that somehow leads us to believe that even though the Crusades were ultimately a failure that they were indeed a success. . . The 150 year pan-generational guided slaughter of Christian (as well as Muslim and Jewish) people is understandable and forgivable, after all, we did get spices and Arabic knowledge out of the deal. What a bargain, right? So we gained spices and Arabic goods. . . that’s cool, but trading was already highly active, the Mediterranean world was never completely fragmented by religious ties–merchants were more concerned with profit than principle. What else did the Crusades do? Besides heightening fuedal rivalries, confirming lines in the sand, and leaving the lands of secular lords susceptable to Church “protection” (aka extortion), the Crusades accomplished very little. As in the case of trade, pretty much every benefit the Crusades “produced” would have been discovered anyways, and the only thing the Crusades directly sought to achieve (the capture of the Holy Land) was a fantastically lost cause.
So what am I getting at? After 150 years the Crusades didn’t even accomplish their purpose; the few tangible and positive results of the Crusades were not dependant on the Crusades, they would have been acquired anyways; and the Crusades have become one of the most widely accepted examples of an end-means analysis in the modern day. Despite the accepted success of the Crusades, the hatred still lives on, however diluted it may be by generations, the embers certainly continue to smolder. The positives we attribute to the Crusades can never outweigh the negative effects of the hatred.
So how does this apply to Homophobia? First of all, Homophobia is not an action, in my opinion. On the other hand, hatred and discrimination are indeed actions. It is difficult to identify hatred until it is manifested in an action. So, do I have a problem with homophobia? Of course I wish it didn’t exist, just as I wish such vicious enmity didn’t exist between world religions. But anytime two groups of people exist in opposition, so to does the seed of contempt in their thoughts. Even though I tend to be a hardened cynic, this reality pains me, because I know that it leads to hatred. I don’t overtly have a problem with homophobia or one who thinks negatively of homosexuals, because I believe people have the right to think however they want. If someone decides that he/she thinks it’s wrong for homosexuals to get married, who am I to tell them they are wrong? I may not agree with how they think, or understand why they think that way, but neither of those are reason anough to rebuke someone for thinking “wrong thoughts”. We live in a world where thoughts are punishable, one can think either correctly or incorrectly in regards to another. The Romans, however, did not punish thought crimes, and that is also where I stand. People can think however they want, so long as they don’t act upon it.
I do, overtly and adamantly, have a problem with hatred, and acts of violence and discrimination that spawn from homophobic thoughts qualify as hatred. I don’t believe in degrees of hatred either, just as I don’t believe in degrees of love. No act of love is categorically lesser than another, even if a particular act of love is more wide-reaching, for they are all from the same source (“Love”, if you will. . . ). The same applies with hatred, no act of hatred is fundamentally more greivous than another. Killing someone is no worse than calling someone a fag, they are both hatred in substance. Granted, we may have developed ways to ajudge the accountability associated with acts of hate (i.e. calling someone a name may deem one less punishable than killing someone), this doesn’t change the essence of the hate that was committed. Why do I not believe in degrees of hatred/love? Because one of my core beliefs is that the tiniest act of love can alleviate the greatest act of hatred, and that the most subtle act of hatred can undermine love. So that’s how I live my life, showing tiny acts of love and avoiding tiny acts of hate. Because I don’t think living is about myself, living is about other people. Life is breathing, living is loving–simple, a bit cheesy, but I’ve struggled a lot, and this is where I’ve arrived.
At last, time to address the true issue. Why is homophobia a problem? Because it lead to hatred, intentional or otherwise. The unintentional hatred is the most widespread, although the most subtle, and most people don’t even realize the effects of their actions. Homophobia as a thought does not harm anyone, but it is a slippery slope. I despair over what will come from homophobia though, because it transcends the political issues. Most people attribute their homophobia to the conflict over gay marriage, whether it be religious or otherwise, but acting in hatred as a result of homophobia due to one’s position on gay marriage is far from justifiable. It troubles me when people feel they are doing a service to their religion and their god by committing acts of hatred. I am accepting of other religions, extremelly so, but I refuse to accept a religion that leads to hatred as true, and I lament for the Christians in particular who feel they achieving “heavenly merit” for commiting acts of hatred (by the way, in this case I think it is the believer that is wayward, not the religion. . . ).
So what do I plan to do about homophobia? I accept that I cannot change the minds of hardened homophobes. That is, even if the political issues of gay rights and gay marriage were resolved, I have no doubt a large contingent of people who justify their homophobia with “because gay people shouldn’t be allowed to marry” will simply adapt to “because gay people are allowed to marry when they shouldn’t be. . .” I am at a loss, how can one fix that? I truly don’t know, but I do know that I can continue to show love. Because I know that if I am the only person left in the whole world who loves and accepts homosexuals that the positive force of my love will prevent the total conquest of even the most overwhelming hatred. I try to go about it not by thinking “what can I do to fix others” but “what can I do to show others”. I’ll never change someones mind, but I can turn their thinking, they just need to be shown how. Just as people need to be taught how to hate, so too do they need to be taught how to love. Maybe one of my acts of love will teach someone that next time they meet a homosexual they don’t need to call them a fag, and maybe eventually they will learn that hatred isn’t worth it, because the cost of hatred never outweighs the benefits. Nothing is gained from hatred, progress cannot be achieved by a negative force. Negative progress exists, that is true, but it is merely the illusion of progress, the act of willfully turning and walking in the opposite direction while pretending to move forward. So what is it that acts of hatred against homosexuals are trying to accomplish? What progress will come from homophobia? None, only the illusion of progress–we will be left with even deeper veins of hatred and naught but a handful of spices. . .
I hope this brings a relative sense of closure to my opinion on the topic. Essentially, I wish people would stop acting in hatred and start acting in love, a basic premise really. I hope you’ve enjoyed my writing on this topic, I realize it’s probably a bit scattered and disjointed, but I hope that doesn’t completely undermine my purpose. Please continue to follow me, in the future I’ll be taking on some smaller, less controversial topics, because this blog is not supposed to be my personal editorial, but my way of training myself to communicate effectively. Anyways, stay tuned 
DM
Homosexuality and Homophobia: Morals vs. Values
I’ve decided to dive straight into this exercise with a controversial topic. Please bear in mind that this blog serves the purpose of honing my writing skills, particularly in regards to conveying ideas and opinions in ways that are simultaneously both cogent and pleasing to read. I know how to research, and this is NOT meant to be an exercise in research-writing, because I do quite enough of that throughout the school year. So please, take my opinions with a grain of salt, feel free to agree or disagree; I certainly welcome any discourse and conversation, but please do not troll me for an apparent lack of research. I assure you that I am not making groundless claims, so please withhold comments such as: “OMGZ go research more trollolololol”. Thanks.
Anyways, this topic has always been of interest to me, mostly because it represents a sort of internal struggle. My moral compass wavers between two different poles, between my religious beliefs that tell me that acts of homosexuality are fundamentally wrong and my personal beliefs that lead me to believe that people should have the right to live out their sexuality however they choose (unless it involves animals. . . no thank you). Essentially, I’m straddling the border between these two opposite and seemingly incompatable view-points on the issue, where do I go from here? A firm believer in logic, I can’t simply accept both at face value, for both views negate each other, but I also cannot deny that there are grains of truth in both sides of the issue. Truth cannot contradict truth, so somewhere down the syllogical chain, these two ideas must compliment each other, and this post is part of my quest in discovering where these two paths meet.
A short disclaimer concerning my religious views: First, although I am not confirmed as a Catholic, as far as ideology and theology go I primarily defer to the Catholic Church. Proximately, of course, I consider myself a Catholic, but true and devout Catholics are apt to scoff at me because I do not show appropriate deference (and subsequently reverence) to the Sacraments. I believe the Sacraments have their place and their purpose, but I don’t personally believe that I need to recieve the Sacrament of Confirmation from the Catholic Church to call myself a Catholic. Indeed I’m going rogue, on the cusp of heresy and infidelity, but I don’t care, because I believe there is truth in religion (in ALL religions, in fact), and that all religions (within reasonable bounds) are viaducts to Truth, wherever and whatever that entails. I believe Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, as well as many other religions and paradigms of belief (and non-belief, for my Athiest friends) can lead one to Truth. The quest for Truth is a nobler cause than I believe any of us could ever understand, the paths are endless and we are all wayfarers, I personally believe that we should help each other should our paths intersect rather than engage one another aggressively. Such a journey is a quintessential “Quest without End”, so the goal is not to get there FIRST, for how will we ever reach the source of infinite light? As such, I take anything taught to my via religions with a healthy dose of discretion, because my studies and personal experience have taught me that religions as institutions are inextricably linked with politics and economics and that their spiritual messages, although made in good-faith, are not always conveyed across this barrier without adulteration. Anyways. . . that was a long but necessary aside.
Back to my original intention for this post: homosexuality and homophobia! Essentially I think this boils down to an extremelly subtle distinction between morals and values. Although morals and values are largely similar, there is one key difference in that values are primarily internal where as morals are primarily external. In otherwords, I believe that our morals are externally directed, in that we judge other people and their actions based upon whether or not their are “morally right” or “morally wrong”. Also, our morals are primarily forged and tempered by external influences, such as our parents, teachers, institutions of religion, etc. That’s part of the reason why freedom of religion and more generally freedom of conscience are such jealously guarded rights by Americans these days; we don’t want the government to arbitrate and dictate morality beyond the sphere of being a good citizen (i.e. a good citizen pays his taxes, therefore a citizen with correct morals WILL pay his taxes or be punished–a bit of a stretch logically, but I feel it applies).
On the other hand, values are inherently internal, that is, we formulate our values on our own accord. If an external source wishes to influence one’s values, then that source must work through means of morality, by teaching one that it is morally wrong or right to value something–it is impossible to directly instill someone else with values. This dichotomy lead to a necessary “chicken or the egg” question: do values stem from morals or do morals arise from values? I’ve heard both sides of this argued, and frankly I don’t think there is a definite answer, primarily because the question is so intertwined with the “nature vs nurture” issue, which is still one of the most hotly debated topics among developmental specialists. The issues are quite parallel, nature being internal and nurture being external, but there is no definitive answer as to which is more influential, which precedes the other, or which is superior in regards to ones cognition and ideation.
Admitting my defeat in that regard, I shall now seek to apply this distinction to my views on homosexuality and homophobia. Referring to my earlier conflict, it is clear that my relligious stance on the issue is a moral affair, where as my personal stance is certainly a value. Realizing that this disconnect between a moral and a value has resulted in my confusion over my definitive stance on the issue leads me to believe that a similar disjunction has led to many of the societal views towards homosexuality. For instance, one of the primary agruments against gay marriage is that it adulterates and corrupts the institution of marriage. To me personally, this has always been one of the least convincing arguments, for the following reasons: One values the institution of marriage, but one cannot judge others concerning their positions on marriage based on a value, one must judge using a system of morality. Thus, one may consider it to be morally wrong for two gay people to be allowed to marry, but that is a strictly moral judgment. Based on this, I believe that two people can have two completely different sets of values, maintain them, and live in harmony (of course this is within reasonable bounds that respect the “humanness” of each other, i.e. no murdering, etc.) For example, I personally value the institution of marriage as entailing one man and one woman, but another person who values the institution as two people of the same sex in no way offends or calls into question my value. Two internal values can only interact by means of moral judgments, and ultimately I don’t believe it to be morally wrong for two people of the same sex to marry, because I value that people should be able to live out their sexuality however they may choose. Thus, I maintain my value in tact, and so has the other person. Subsequently, I suppose I ultimately believe that acceptance as a value supersedes the religious views/morals that have been taught to me concerning the issue.
This raises the next issue in regards to my case: not everyone is as accepting and willing to disagree with religious institutions as I am. That is where I believe most of the controversy and disdain arises. When either side aggressively tries to impress their values on the other by means of moral accusations and judgments, it is no wonder that tension and stagnation results. But here is how I ultimately see the issue: one side is asserting their right to pursue their value of marriage as they see fit, free from prejudice, while the other side is seeking to protect their own value by repressing the pursuit of a value on the opposite side. If one needs to deny another the right to pursue his values for the sake of protecting his own values, then it shows that one was never confident in his values in the first place. It baffles me that one party is seeking the government to oppress the other for the sake of upholding their own values. But all in all, it’s really just all my opinion.
After writing this all, I realize that I probably bit off more than I could chew–I could never do this topic justice. My only hope is that this made some sort of sense, and that perhaps it leads a few people to acceptance, in realizing that they can hold strong to their own values without denying the values of another. Again, I believe that we are all on our own path, and I consider it a blessing that our paths intersect, parallel one another, and even combine at every step, but I believe we are all heading to the same destination, and I find it quite sad that some people feel the need to push others down in an effort to reach the end faster or to reach the end as a “better person”.
I realize that this first substantial post is an eye-ful, but I hope you enjoy it, please feel free to leave feedback, but please be civil,
DM
