American government is a mess. Two things, in particular, have held my attention in the past several months: the impeachment proceedings and the Democratic presidential nomination. Just after noticing how irritated I was at the details, I shifted to seeing things in the context of patterns. One pattern leapt off the page: they might not be using dogs or hoses any more but these sure feel like the modern tools of voter suppression.
Try this:
First, the impeachment proceedings are aired on live TV and the entire country turns to watch. Even if we only dabble in the NYT video clips, viewers still see the same thing: straight white men of a certain age in positions of power. They sit at high wooden desks, they bang gavels, they speak an odd form of English to convey information to each other, and they tightly control the clock. While we may be listening to the substance, I don’t think we can avoid absorbing a subliminal message: power belongs to the demographic we see on the screen. We’ll hold that as archetype when we enter the voting booth this year and it is designed to make us less likely to see women, people of color, people with disabilities, younger people, people of different ethnicities or religions, etc. as viable candidates for office. It might not inhibit people from going to the polls, but it will limit their choices when they arrive. Round 1 to voter suppression.
Meanwhile, a dizzying array of candidates have stepped forth for the Democratic nomination. When I ask friends and acquaintances who they prefer I get a stark answer: I don’t care. Just pick one. Alas. what is likely to unfold is a phenomenon the democratic party cannot seem to shake: their candidates won’t act as a team. When the primary is over, it is in the Party’s best interest for each of the losing candidates to immediately signal to their following that getting behind the winner is a matter of urgency. Instead they will be silent or follow Mr. Sander’s lead and delay endorsement. That will have the impact of voter apathy and cause followers of losing candidates to be less likely to come out to the polls in the general election. Taking action to reduce the likelihood that people come out to vote is, by definition, voter suppression. So goes round 2.
Voter suppression has been at the core of our electoral politics since the origins of our country. It is a handy and effective tool that retains power for the few at the cost of the many. Voter supression in this modern form worries me far more than the (increasingly likely) possibility of another 4 years of Trump in the White House.
Informed voter turnout deserves our vigilant attention and any effort to suppress that should be seen as a threat to the Republic. Barring that, we’re likely to continue to have a government that represents a fraction of the country because the rest of us swallowed what we are being spoon fed.
Round 3 awaits.
April 2016
A friend (white, educated, kind and fabulous) came for dinner last night. She was timid (albeit brave) in raising the concern she has: upon hearing “Black Lives Matter” she thought there might now be a norm where it is not ok for her to say “All Lives Matter”. I shared with her my sense that she might be taking the first phrase too literally. What those behind it might mean to say is that black lives have not mattered nearly so much as white lives over the course of the history of our country and that its time that they do matter. I offered the standard set of evidence often provided in these conversations: overrepresentation in public systems like prison, foster care,and special education by people of color, the growing sets of data that glaringly suggests opportunity is doled out based on race and zip code, the demographic fact that the quality of housing and educational opportunities falls along racial lines, the array of systems that are structured to protect wealth and power for white people.
After my predictable comments came the predictable response from my friend: “but I didn’t do any of that. Its not my fault.” I assured her she was correct and added that it was also no less true that the beneficiaries of white privilege have an awesome responsibility to disrupt the current set up.
I awoke with the sense that I had not gained any ground with my friend. It occurred to me that “Black Lives Matter” and “All Lives Matter” are misleading insofar as they suggest that the two comments are in the same conversation. “All Lives Matter” is clearly the voice of white privilege. It comes from “I”. Its the very “I” that blinds those of us with white privilege to its origins and pathways. This “I” suggests that my success was available to everyone and “I”, by myself, just did what “I’” needed to do. Others who did not enjoy the same outcomes just made other choices. This furthermore confirms that “I” have no connection to, impact on, responsibility for any others who might not have faired so well. When it is suggested that I do, the “I” retreats further into itself as a protective and defensive measure, only subconsciously aware that straying from the “I” success story is a risky proposition.
“Black Lives Matter” conversely, comes from “we”. It suggests “we” are interdependent and all in this together and that some of us doing well while others are struggling is an ill fated path that is doing damage to all of us. For some this path has been perilous. The moral outrage that this could go on for so long without notice and corrective action is now aptly placed in public arena.
I think the “I” of All Lives Matter is inadvertently taking over the “we” of Black Lives Matter in conversation. When both show up at the same time, All overshadows Black, pushing the Black Lives Matter conversation away as if to say “we get it and now its ok”. The responsibility for splitting this two conversations rests with the “I” of White Privilege. It will mean brutal self reflection on the benefits the “I” has enjoyed even if it means pangs of guilt for having done so well for so long just by luck of the parents to whom we are born. It will require the courage to admit we rest in avoidance to avoid our fear that giving up the current structure might negatively affect me. It will mean sitting on your hands and listening deeply to substance of the Black Lives Matters conversation.
Allowing All to overtake the Black conversation smacks of a modern method White Privilege use to divert a challenging conversation about race — one our country desperately needs to have. Disaggregating All and Black into the two very separate conversations might just get us started.
April 9, 2016
Over the recent past a splash of anti-gay backlash has erupted. Mississippi’s governor signed legislation allowing for individuals and businesses to cite religious objections and refuse service to gay people. Just prior, North Carolina’s governor signed a law that banned anti-discrimination protections for gay people outright.
In the aftermath there has been an impressive show of moral fiber, with large corporations, big money celebrities and other governors refusing to do business in these two states. Its hard to imagine that the economic impact won’t bring hatred around and that’s something for us all to look forward to.
I have been equally intrigued by the fervor of comments on social media signaling outrage at both Governors. This as if to say they, alone, acted and the people who live in each state are victims to a rogue political figure. I can’t help but notice each Governor played but one role (his conscience be damned just to have it said). Each signed legislation that was put on his desk. Each piece of legislation was passed by the 102 Senators and 242 Representatives that comprise the General Assemblies in these states combined. Each of those Senators and Legislators represent the roughly 13 million people who live in both of those states. Those folks arranged, by decision or default, for those individualist be elected and to have pen in hand when this idea got legs. What did we think was going to happen?
I’m not mad at the Governors of either Mississippi or North Carolina. Or their Legislators. I am grateful to them for making themselves known. Before now, bigots hid in the shadows and I could not tell who was who. When they have the gumption to speak at least I can see them clearly. That, as compared to the past, is a gift.
Neither am I mad at the citizens of either state. I live in Baltimore. In the last election an estimated 20% of the citizens of my beloved home town got up off the couch and went to the polls. Everyone else was….busy. Its surely true that 80% of the folks who live here have an opinion about our elected officials. I know because I hear about it with some regularity. I do always wonder, when I am listening to some impassioned critique, what the odds are that the speaker cast a ballot on election day. Probably low. So we are in no place to point fingers.
It is however an interesting opportunity to look in the mirror and imagine that civic engagement at the local level may be the most important tool we have at our fingertips now. I wonder about what we could do to transfer the cache of our smart phones to our opportunity to cast a thoughtful ballot.