I think the thing that bothers me most about the farcical travesty of this Inauguration Day is how personal it feels. I am a reluctant citizen, inclined by nature and nurture to regard with skepticism the social contracts* so cherished by those who portray themselves responsible adults. My parents, though they possessed strong political views, never voted, and did little to inculcate within me anything resembling a sense of civic duty. My father, especially, held to the opinion that voting was pointless, because everything was rigged.
If you want to know what my father was like, think Archie Bunker, just a little more drunk and abusive. Maybe a little smarter, probably a little less ethical. It's the intelligence and lack of ethics that concern me here and now. Passed down as they were, from him to myself.
If I was the person I was supposed to be. If I was the person my father tried to teach me to be. I would be delirious with delight right now. Ecstatic at the overturning of an age of corruption. Giddy with seraphic glee, I would welcome this turning of tables, which I had predicted from the moment Donald Trump announced his candidacy.
Alas. While the prediction was precise, my sentiments are.. dubious? Unconscionable would be a better word, and yet... I will not deplore that I feel the way I feel.
It's taken me a long time to acknowledge. To accept. That feelings are valid, in and of themselves. Right or wrong, they are real and have to be faced. It's been difficult for me to come to terms with the truth that emotion and logic are both so strong inside me, and that they in no way negate one another. I've found no convenient cancellation, so perforce I face the paradoxical predicament that is self-awareness.
As I look at our nation, at the choices we've faced during this past year, I see.... myself, flinching from a mirror. In one hand, a shard of glass. Poised to slice the other hand's palm.
As a veteran of self-loathing, I assure you: the reason matters not. Excuses are empty. What matters is that something's wrong, Anything's wrong, everything's wrong. I am wrong, and my penance will purge. Will make this right.
Whether we admit it or not, we are one people. One people, forged from conflicting fires. Fires coruscating with strange colors which all eyes may not see. Pristine purity and unscrupulous avarice are no more incommensurate than fierce compassion and relentless reason, after all.
We are one people and we hate what we are.
So much of history remains untaught. So many voices remain unheard. We see the same world, from more perspectives than there are stars in the sky. It's no wonder (to me) that we destroy ourselves, again and again. I wish I could have warned you in time. I wish you would have listened. But I was brought up to believe that I'll never be believed.
If you want to know what my father was like, think Archie Bunker, just a little more drunk and abusive. Maybe a little smarter, probably a little less ethical. It's the intelligence and lack of ethics that concern me here and now. Passed down as they were, from him to myself.
If I was the person I was supposed to be. If I was the person my father tried to teach me to be. I would be delirious with delight right now. Ecstatic at the overturning of an age of corruption. Giddy with seraphic glee, I would welcome this turning of tables, which I had predicted from the moment Donald Trump announced his candidacy.
Alas. While the prediction was precise, my sentiments are.. dubious? Unconscionable would be a better word, and yet... I will not deplore that I feel the way I feel.
It's taken me a long time to acknowledge. To accept. That feelings are valid, in and of themselves. Right or wrong, they are real and have to be faced. It's been difficult for me to come to terms with the truth that emotion and logic are both so strong inside me, and that they in no way negate one another. I've found no convenient cancellation, so perforce I face the paradoxical predicament that is self-awareness.
As I look at our nation, at the choices we've faced during this past year, I see.... myself, flinching from a mirror. In one hand, a shard of glass. Poised to slice the other hand's palm.
As a veteran of self-loathing, I assure you: the reason matters not. Excuses are empty. What matters is that something's wrong, Anything's wrong, everything's wrong. I am wrong, and my penance will purge. Will make this right.
Whether we admit it or not, we are one people. One people, forged from conflicting fires. Fires coruscating with strange colors which all eyes may not see. Pristine purity and unscrupulous avarice are no more incommensurate than fierce compassion and relentless reason, after all.
We are one people and we hate what we are.
So much of history remains untaught. So many voices remain unheard. We see the same world, from more perspectives than there are stars in the sky. It's no wonder (to me) that we destroy ourselves, again and again. I wish I could have warned you in time. I wish you would have listened. But I was brought up to believe that I'll never be believed.
*But really, who wouldn't be skeptical of the very concept of social contracts, after learning how one of the most ardent and enlightened proponents of such spent a large part of his career attacking colleagues in an attempt to square the circle? What a tyger burning bright, in the forests of the night!
