Trying to Reason with Black and White Thinking in the Conservative World
I had a jarring experience last week. I discovered that my parents had put up a Trump/Pence sign in their yard. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised me. I know they are Republicans. Always have been. Always will be. But somehow the fact that they could be so openly supportive of a candidate that has proven to be not only bad at the job of being President, but also so lacking in personal character, struck me hard. The thing that bothers me the most is the hypocrisy, the obvious double standard. If a Democratic President had half the scandals as this President, they would have for sure thought he was the anti-Christ. My mother pretty much thought that of Bill Clinton. So how could they so publicly support a man like Donald Trump? I guess the answer is they have fallen into line with their party. I grew up being taught that Republicans were good and Democrats were bad. My parents used to mention Christians they knew who were Democrats, and they would shake their heads and say, “How can a Christian be a Democrat?” In their minds Republicans are moral, family oriented people and Democrats are big spenders who help the immoral, undeserving, and do so by taxing the moral middle class. So how can an immoral, cheating billionaire fit into their Republican world? And what do they do with a daughter who has turned Democrat? This is simply too complex for them to discuss or deal with openly.
So now we just don’t talk about it. Well, they still talk about it a little bit when we all get together. My father wears his “Proud to be an American” t-shirt. My brother-in-law shows up with his “I stand for the National Anthem” sweatshirt, or maybe his Second Amendment t-shirt. My mother makes some one-sided and half informed remark about current events. There is some version of the flag displayed throughout the house. Maybe it’s a wreath on the door, or a magnet on the refrigerator, or a small blanket you grab unsuspectingly to wrap up in. Is it bad to fly the flag? Of course not. But patriotism has been taken over and corrupted by the far right. And that’s part of the absolute thinking. Republicans believe they are the only patriotic ones and Democrats are out to destroy the country. Because that makes sense of course. I would argue that true patriotism is when you want to see your country get better and be a better place for ALL its citizens. I believe the conservative world has confused patriotism with nostalgia. They believe patriotism consists of talking about all the great things this country has done, without acknowledging the mistakes that have been made or the ongoing problems that still need work, like systemic racism. I listen to my family talk, and they want to reminisce about the “good old days,” rather than address uncomfortable realities.
I tried to be more bold in 2016 when we were first dealing with the possibility of having Donald Trump as a President. I thought at that time that I could reason with them. I guess I thought I might actually have some influence. So I tried to bring up some of my concerns about Trump with my father. I mentioned the ties the Trump family has had with the KKK. I naively thought maybe my dad just didn’t know, and being made aware would have some impact on him. I was wrong. I was a little shocked. And I was very disappointed. My father’s response to my concerns was to say that he felt discriminated against as a white, Christian, heterosexual male. Really? This was my dad’s response? His life as a white, Christian, straight guy was so hard? I was a little bit dumbfounded. Just like that the door to open dialogue was slammed in my face. It hurt that his mind was so closed off, he couldn’t even hear my concerns. He didn’t care that I was concerned about Donald Trump being openly racist. Didn’t care that he had a non-white son-in-law. His mind was made of stone, and the worst part was there was no compassion there. No concern for anyone different from himself. Later I thought of all the things I wished I had said. I wish I had asked him how many people told him he didn’t belong here because he was a Christian. I wish I had asked him how many times he was threatened or beaten up for being heterosexual. I wish I had asked him how many times he was honestly afraid of the police because of his race. I wish I had asked him how many times he was turned down for a job interview because of the sound of his last name. I wish I had asked him how many times he was falsely accused of doing something wrong just because he looked a certain way. But this is the reality for many people. Muslim citizens get told to go back to where they came form. Gay and trans-gendered people get beaten up, and sometimes murdered, just because of their orientation or sexual identity. Black people get shot by the police when they are unarmed and not threatening anyone. People get passed over for a job interview because they have a name that is unusual or hard to pronounce. Hispanic and Latino citizens get stereotyped as criminals. Never have I heard of a bunch of gay people beating up a “straight” person for not being gay. Never have I heard of a Christian being told to go back to Europe where Christianity came from. It just doesn’t happen. To pretend that life is exceptionally hard for the conservative white Christian population lacks all understanding and compassion. But that’s the lie that people like Trump use to maintain power and control.
Something in my relationship with my parents changed from then on. They were not the reasonable moderates I had once imagined. They were extremists. I could not reason with them or get through to them. And they were not the caring, compassionate people I had imagined either. At the end of the day, they really only cared about the people they could relate to. People who looked like them and shared their beliefs. I no longer fit into that category, and they had shown me they did not care about my concerns either. Protecting their idea of the world is more important to them than understanding someone else’s fears or concerns. This was true to such an extent that they minimized experiences both my husband and I had to protect their view of things. When I told them that people in South Dakota would sometimes stare rudely at me and my husband when we were out on a date, they dismissed this as either my imagination or that people were staring at us for some other reason. Not because I was a white girl out with a Native guy. This was deeply hurtful to me. My parents were not there. They did not see the hostile looks people gave us for no good reason. We were not being rude or obnoxious. We didn’t barge in line ahead of someone else. We were not making out in public. We were simply an interracial couple, and older white people gave us unkind and hostile stares for that reason alone. But hearing that would damage my parents’ reality.
The same thing happened when I told my family about my husband’s experience of almost being shot by a police officer before I met him. He was pulled over for simply having a brake light or headlight out. When the officer asked him for his insurance information, he reached for it in the glove compartment, where most people keep those documents. Suddenly there was a gun in his face and the officer was screaming at him to put his hands on the steering wheel. My parents’ response: it had nothing to do with race. I know my dad never had a cop pull a gun on him. He got pulled over more than once and I am pretty certain his insurance information was in the glove compartment too. But no matter how many times there is a news story about an unarmed non-white teenager being shot multiple times by the police, the response of my parents and my sister remains predictably the same. “We don’t really know what happened. The officer probably felt threatened.” Really? We don’t know what happened? The officer felt so threatened by an unarmed kid that they needed to empty their gun into them? But when you live in a black and white world of absolutes, these are the absurdities that have to be upheld. The police are the “good guys.” All veterans are “heroes,” and not wanting to send troops into war is unpatriotic. Protesting injustice is also unpatriotic. Let’s uphold the second amendment no matter what. The first amendment however should be limited to things that don’t make them feel uncomfortable.
A few weeks after Trump was elected in 2016, I found out I was pregnant. I was excited, but also somewhat afraid of what kind of society I would be raising an interracial child in. It was an emotional time for me, and I knew my family did not understand. Now it’s election season again, and I am pregnant again. I hope it will be a society that is improving that I will be raising my two Native children in. And I know I can’t just remain silent anymore. For years I have maintained silence to preserve the relationship with my family of origin. But what example does that set for my children? I want them to be proud of who they are, proud of their heritage, and unafraid to challenge injustice in any and all forms. Perhaps my parents are truly incapable of change. Or perhaps they can learn to open their minds if that is the only way to maintain a connection with their daughter and grandchildren. I guess I will find out how much the relationship means to them. I have had to accept them with their views and opinions. In order to accept me, they will have to become accustomed to hearing my views, values, and opinions as well. It has been a one-sided effort for too long. Some discomfort is the price of authenticity. I can’t pretend or just stay silent anymore. Risk is part of relationship. I have allowed my silence to preserve their reality instead of openly challenging it. There are only a few things I have regretted saying, but many things I have regretted not saying. Change doesn’t happen when we are afraid to speak up. When we don’t challenge systemic problems, we are part of the problem. I don’t want to contribute to these problems I see anymore. It’s time to be on the side of change, no matter what the risk is.
