To Love When It Seems Unreasonable

’Tis the season, I suppose, for the inanity that is politics. A time when the pumpkin-spiced lattes, the Ugg boots, and the aspiring dregs of society decide to roll out and remind us why…oh, who am I kidding?

This specimen of intellectual wholism was delightfully yelling on the street corner of my town this morning, a sign proudly claiming allegiance to some fetishized version of the Mango Mussolini’s truth, and generally being a fantastic example of butthurt assholery. If you think I’m being a bit rough with the language, you should’ve heard what came out of his mouth as he got closer to my car…

The flag he’s got on the sign has, in a shock to absolutely no one, a blue line and, on the reverse of that signboard, there’s a “Support the Police” slogan written in the same ransom note style newspaper letters as the front side. All in, outside of jarring inconsistencies with font kerning and selection, he at least sized the sign appropriate to his frame.

I’m a big believer in the ostensible free speech freedoms we have in this country. As such, while the behaviour of this insufferable pilchard grates on my soul, I respect his right to play the fool. I also respect that I have the right to honk my horn excessively, give him the finger, and generally mock his delusions of grandeur all the same, either online or in person. This right to expression isn’t something we, or anyone else, should take lightly because it is seminal to how we’ve decided our society should function.

However.

I also had to remind myself that for every snide comment, every middle finger raised in salute, every snappy comeback that I could think of in retort to his “Biden is a p*ssy” or “Let’s go Brandon” slagging that he let cascade from his embittered lips, it would only serve to polarize him more.

There was a TED talk done recently by the gentleman who started the whole “Birds aren’t real” movement that gained, in some parts of America, significant traction. Part of what he talks about is how people inherently gravitate, when challenged, to the safety of those who believe the same as they do; how conspiracies, even at their grandest, are nested together with those who find community and camaraderie with each other. When we mock and chastise and otherwise disabuse people of their fanciful notions, we inevitably accomplish quite the opposite of what we, ontologically, hope to.

As I drove away from that intersection, mind furiously working through the various permutations of intellectual fallacies that this dude was espousing, I was reminded that the sweatshirt I’m wearing states “Be Kind” as a 3rd line to its prescription for the day. (I will gleefully note for the record, however, that “Kick Ass” directly precedes it so, the existential debate of what “kicking ass” constitutes is ripe for debate…but I digress). My nature, in these moments, isn’t to be kind. It’s to simmer and stew, run permutations of the various methods and means of intellectual battle that I could enjoin to put him in his place. And, dear souls, I’d fail in my mission of kindness and love should I ever open my mouth to that end.

You see, this man is us. He’s endemic to our community, our nation, our questioning and querying. He may be odious to us but he is us: body, soul, spirit. Just because we’ve removed ourselves from the X’s of the world and created a more “safe” enclave of liberal thought here on Post doesn’t mean that we are any different.

To be fair, we’re standing on the opposite corner of that intersection, holding signs that mean the same thing, spouting words that cut just as deep, creating the same rips and tears that we so loudly decry from our elevated pulpits here in cyberspace.

The picture above is black and white. My words at the beginning of this story are in stark contrast to what I’m asking of you at the end of this soliloquy. There’s a lot of nuance and space in these words to understand what it means to be part of a community, to be part of a fractious world that is dying to find some level of homeostasis, good or bad. For every jab and riposte I can come up with, there are a thousand other questions and hurts that come bubbling to the surface as well. And this man, whomever and whatever he is, is one of us.

I don’t find kindness in these moments to be easy. I’m not prone to conflict, not someone who relishes the battle of wits. I’m faster with a pen than a sword, for what it’s worth. But I also know that should I fail this sacred call to community and kindness, I’m no better a man or human than him. I’m no better a person than those who view people as chattel, who view the marginalised as speed bumps, and law as warfare.

My challenge to you, then, is to embrace the obnoxious, the untoward, the unkind, and the unkempt amongst you. Love when it hurts to do so, invite the strangers and polarized in, and, while the results may not be what you want, at least you’re planting the seeds of love.

May it ever be so.