Who is your neighbor?
I grew up in Bolivar, Missouri, a small town in the Ozarks. Almost every single one of my neighbors was white. Nearly all were, or at least claimed to be, Christian. Most were conservative.
We had our differences. Most people in my town can tell you the difference between a Missionary Baptist and a Southern Baptist, and many have opinions as to which version was likely joining the Methodists, Pentecostals, and Catholics in hell. We’d have vigorous debates about whether it was enough to accept Jesus in your heart or if you had to be sprinkled or dunked to gain entrance to heaven. In the end, though, we would always be forced to leave it up to God. (Granted, I covered all my bases and did all three.)
We were not stupid. We were not cruel. At least the vast majority were not. And I don’t bring up the debate in a mean-spirited way. I bring it up because even in a rather homogenous town, we found ways to divide ourselves, but also to live and love one another. And when we needed to pull together for something universally important—whether it was to raise money to fight cancer, help tornado victims, or build a new high school—for the most part, we did.
I use past tense because it’s been a while since I’ve been home. And since I left, I’ve had many other neighbors. In New Haven, London, Baltimore, Springfield, Mo. and Brooklyn, I’ve had the amazing opportunity to build relationships with black people, Hispanic people, Middle Eastern people, and Asians; with Muslims, Hindus, and Jews, with immigrants—documented and undocumented—from so many different countries; and with people identifying with every letter in LGBTQ.
And we’ve had our differences. Sometimes we hurt each other’s feelings and said things wrong, or stumbled over terms to discuss race, sexuality, or religion. Sometimes we’ve vehemently disagreed about important things. But we kept the conversation going, and, in the end, maybe we’d leave a particular point up to a god or the universe or time–and maybe we would just let it go.
These neighbors are also not stupid. Or cruel. Or selfish or immoral. Or thugs or rapists. Or any of the other labels that have been put on them. At least the vast majority were not. They were and are good people. And, despite our differences, we have continued to find ways to live and love one another and pull together when we really need to.
Because that’s what humans do. We love our neighbors, even if we disagree with them. It is one tenet of my former faith that I still cling to. It’s a tenet that nearly every faith shares. And a tenet that nearly every person without faith shares. Loving one another comes just as naturally to humans as dividing and labeling. And love is strong enough to overcome any division. At least for the vast majority.
And so it is, that, even though my political beliefs are very far to the left, my personal actions are considered sinful by some, and my spiritual beliefs are no longer centered around a god…even though I will fight like crazy to keep Trump from becoming president, I know, love, and respect Trump supporters. They are not stupid. They are not cruel. They are my neighbors. And, though the first sentence in this paragraph will make many of my Missouri neighbors (some Trump supporters, some not) want to change me or pray for me, it will not make them stop loving me. At least the vast majority. The vast majority will recognize that we can hold different beliefs and still love each other, help each other, or at least not get in the way of each other’s lives, liberties or pursuits of happiness.
But it seems like our country—the whole country—is forgetting this. Complicated debates and discussions are being turned into short, pointed Facebook wall quips and Tweets. People are giving up on each other. At a time when we have the tools for unprecedented communication and the ability to really exchange nuanced ideas, we are, instead, acting as though there are two sides to every question—and we “un-friend” those who are not on “our side.”
We watch “our side’s” news and allow the media and our political leaders to control us through our various fears and convince us of blatant falsehoods. Those who say “Black Lives Matter” don’t want cops or white people to die. Those who say “All Lives Matter” don’t want black people to die. In fact, both “sides” really don’t want anyone to die. At least the vast majority. There is an important, urgent discussion that needs to happen. Because people are dying. Anger and fear are not the wrong responses. But it’s very important to acknowledge that our differences on this phrase are more semantic than actual. The phrase “All Lives Matter,” was introduced in response to the BLM movement—and it’s hard to see it as anything other than a phrase introduced to put up a wall and slow progress. But it’s a wall based on a false distinction that divides and misrepresents good people on both “sides.” Now, however, people are so entrenched on their “side” that we can’t get to the heart of the issue, which we actually agree on. At least the vast majority. And instead of debating how to move forward, we’re stuck—or moving backward. The wall seems to get higher and higher.
And this is what has me so scared about Trump. He builds walls between neighbors. And it seems as though he does so for the sole purpose of putting his name on it in giant letters.
I risk a small joke, but this is a serious matter. I don’t want to be melodramatic. Our country and government is stable. It could withstand a Trump presidency as a whole. Some people would be unaffected, at least directly; some would benefit. But there are so many people, the most vulnerable people in our country—our neighbors who need us the most—who would lose so much, including several who are directly involved in my life.
In my first draft of this essay—there have been a few—I launched into a personal description of a few specific people, myself included, who will likely suffer directly if Trump is elected: my Turkish collaborator who would probably not get his visa renewed; an undocumented teenager, brought to this country as a five-year-old, who has become almost a daughter to me; and women, like and including me, who have been roofied and have silently suffer sexual assault. They are all stories that may need to be told. And I will continue to try to find ways to tell them. But I don’t want to just brush over very complicated issues in the course of this particular argument. To the degree that I can, I am determined to keep this piece based in logic and principle instead of emotion—though part of me feels desperate enough to beg. And if I thought it would even change one mind, I would beg. Because the threat that Trump poses–the wall that he proposes to build–is both symbolic and actual. The careless statements, the broad strokes, the lack of compassion for the most vulnerable, and the cavalier arrogance with which he approaches this office are more than embarrassing—they are legitimately dangerous. He will isolate us from much of the world. And he will isolate groups within our country from one another. You can see it in the rhetoric. You can see it at rallies. It’s terrifying because I believe to my core that the people participating in these rallies, the vast majority, are not bad people who wish ill upon their neighbors. But I can’t understand why they like him. Most candidates, I can at least comprehend the reason. But Trump is not a principled man, not a religious man, not a self-made man, not even an attractive man.
Maybe a vote for Trump feels like a protest against our broken and frustrating political system. Or maybe people think we have to bottom out before we get better. Or maybe this is amusing. Or maybe people really do hate Hillary Clinton that much. My best guess is that the people who are voting for him are doing so for the same reason we always build walls—because they don’t feel safe. But do you really want to give this man the nuclear codes? Does that make you feel safer? Who are you potentially sacrificing?
Who are your neighbors?
Even if a Trump presidency is not apocalyptic–it probably wouldn’t be–a lot of people, vulnerable people, will needlessly suffer. In four years, he could divide us in a way that will take fifty years to bridge. He could build walls that we will have to waste valuable time tearing down. This is not one of those matters that we can afford to sit back and say, “leave it to God.” We live in a country where it is up to us and where the decision comes down to us. This is one of those times when we need to come together. This is important.
Men, women need you to show your love for them. White people, black people need you to show your love for them. Citizens, immigrants need you to show your love for them. People with power, the vulnerable need you to show your love for them and to help them rise up. We will always have disagreements–some about very important matters. And we will always disagree about what matters are the most important. But I really think that all my neighbors are good people and can start from a place of love. At least the vast majority.
But we just can’t do it with Trump in the lead. Please do not vote for this man to represent and lead our country. Please keep talking to those who are considering doing so—but treating them as neighbors, too. Even when it’s hard. Please don’t give up.
Let’s build bridges, not walls.
