Growing up in a barely middle class, puritan New England town, I often saw bullying brutality in and outside my home. Sarcasm ruled. If you had a feeling - any feeling - you made a joke or buried it. You shoveled snow or smoked a butt. You didn’t be a weakling and talk about it.
In high school we’d get high and dream of getting out of our town, of going into the world to leave a mark. I left the instant I could, but this wasn’t the norm. Living there was so embedded in our DNA that it was more fun to talk about leaving than actually do it. Some left for a year or two, but most came back. They wanted familiar. They wanted what they knew. They wanted their kids to go to the schools they went to. Familiar was easy. It felt safe.
What hit me repeatedly during this election is how many people don’t want change. They want what they know. Change is uncertainty. I think part of the reason Kamala Harris lost - next to the reality that America wasn’t going to vote for a female president - was because she represented change. Her opponent didn’t. His old school machismo and beliefs he repeatedly spouted had an effect that somehow - I don’t understand how - created safety. You knew exactly what you were getting.
I’ve never taken for granted what it means to be an American. Go to any country and locals who speak English know that English signifies class. It suggests someone is wealthy enough to be educated. To speak English is aspirational. Our clothes, movies, tv shows, books, art, all our products set a bar of desire. Currencies around the world find their value against the American dollar. It’s the strongest currency because it’s always been the most stable.
Even when we’re hated we’re still envied. Reluctantly admired. Mostly because Americans represent democracy and hope to countries who don’t have either. We were the country the world tethered dependence on as proof that justice prevails. But now we’re in new territory. Now we get to see what comes next.
I grew up in one of those towns that scorned immigrants. If you weren’t third generation you sucked. But the reality was that most of us were first gen. Second at most. My stepfather came to America when a cousin here sponsored him. They got him a job sweeping floors in a factory. My stepfather had an eighth grade education and didn’t speak English. Twenty-five years later he bought that factory. Many of his employees were immigrants. They had benefits, but he made sure they had a life insurance policy. To my stepfather, life insurance was magical. He had come here in steerage after his whole family was wiped out. Life insurance was safety, something you could get in America.
When I came to NYC all the delis in my neighborhood were run by Koreans. The parents stocked shelves and worked the registers all day and night. Their kids sat barely out of eye shot studying. I’ve lived in the same neighborhood for over thirty years and got to see their kids grow up. Many went to charter schools, then on to med school, or became engineers. One kid went to work for NASA.
NYC became the capital of the art world only because immigrants came here fleeing Hitler. Call culture elitist, but in war, early targets are museums. Kill a country by killing their culture. Destroy or steal their history. The value of culture gives a place a sense of place. It gives it meaning. Everyone loves their local museum whether they visit it or not. Through our art, movies, books, tv shows and music - a trillion dollar industry and more - think of the influence we cleave around the world. Ever hear a Russian rock band? Bring earplugs. The irony is, the creative world in America is Jewish, gay, straight, Black, white, trans, undefined and more. A gaggle of groups now under fire.
On a personal level, this last year has been brutal. It's been a micro version of the macro going on in America. For an entire year (and still ongoing), on almost a weekly basis I've had to deal with two bullies who are cruel and vicious. I’ll write more about it later, but they've turned out to be the most poorly wrapped gift. I have had to look at where and how I still give my power away because of fear. And this let me became so f*cking determined to never ever do that again. In turn, a lot of the fear has vanished. Faith over doubt. It always comes back to faith over doubt.
Wednesday night I did a zoom with a group of actor and writer friends and one said, “Do we simply let him take over?” She wasn’t suggesting violence. I think she was expressing what I’m feeling more than anything right now: Defiance. If I add the tone of hope to ‘what do we do now?’ and try to keep my heart from hardening, it’s a good question.
