Action

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

~ Cheryle Gardiner ~ Leave a comment

It’s taken me almost two weeks, but I think it’s time. More importantly, I think I’m finally ready.

Before the 2016 election, I wrote a rather cynical post advocating that we should all vote for trump so we could learn our lesson. Some agreed with me, but some of my clearer-headed friends decried my cynicism for the damage it would do to the nation; other of my friends declared that they didn’t have the luxury to be cynical.

Well, it came to pass: we elected the most unqualified person in the history of this country and he did all of the awful things we imagined, plus some no one ever dreamed could happen. In the next election, he was defeated and we thought that sanity had been restored.

Boy, were we wrong.

We’ve now elected him again and he’s doubling down on all the things he promised. His supporters cult is ever more strident and the racism, misogyny, bigotry, and intolerance are out in full force. It’s really easy to get discouraged, throw our hands up in despair, and start making plans to leave the country for some place where sanity reigns. I’m not going to do that; I’m going to do something very different:

I’m going to love them.

I’m going to love Donald Trump, J.D. Vance, Tulsi Gabbard, RFK Jr., and, yes, even Matt Gaetz. Please note that I did not say I’m going to like them or approve of them.

How am I going to love people whose whole raison d’être is to destroy this country, to turn us into a dictatorship, and whose supporters cult members want a theocracy – as long as it’s compatible with their beliefs, of course – how will I do that?

I’m going to keep reminding myself that love – despite popular culture and starry-eyed lovers – is a verb. Love is action, not emotion. What’s more, I’m going to keep reminding myself of what I promised in my baptismal vows: to respect the dignity of every human being. And after reminding myself of these two important things, I’m going to pray for them (love) and I’m going to try very, very hard to remember that they are human and are children of God (respect their dignity).

I want to issue a couple of caveats here:
1. I will protest, publicly as I’m able, their acts that harm people and our nation. This could include marching in the streets, writing treatises, even opening my home to those who need a safe shelter. I will not stand idly by if it’s possible to protest.
2. I will always defend those who are defenseless or who are most in danger. I will continue to support LGBTQIA+ causes; marriage between committed couples regardless of gender; Black Lives Matter efforts; and provide shelter for anyone needing reproductive care.
3. I’m going to speak up when I encounter prejudice in any of its forms.
4. I’m going to fail spectacularly and often at doing these things because I’m human.

Finally, I want to say this: my way is not the way for everyone, not even everyone who identifies as Christian, as I do. We each have to find our way through this morass of an administration; this is mine. Seek a way to be positive. Find like-minded people to get you through the hard times. Reach out to those who are targeted. Be a force for good.

(For clarification, the God I worship is not the god that promotes the idea that Trump was “chosen;” not the god who rejects the immigrant, the person of color, the gay, trans, bi, nonbinary; not the god who allows people in power to exercise control over the lives of women. My God is loving and forgiving, accepts each of us as we are, sees each of us as Beloved. My God is the God of hope, of possibility. It doesn’t mean we won’t undergo trials and dark times, but Hope is the flame that we must keep burning even as we seek a better future.)

 

Why I #RESIST

~ Cheryle Gardiner ~ Leave a comment

In late summer of 2015, my sister, niece, and I made our second genealogical Southern tour. This time it was precipitated by the news that one of our forebears, John Justus Grovenstein, was to be honored by the DAR at Oak Grove Cemetery in St. Marys, GA.

St. Marys is a lovely little seaside town just across the Florida/Georgia state line, and is where my grandfather was born and grew up, and where many of his family (including his mother) are buried. While there, we also planned to visit some other family gravesites, as well as the town of Ebenezer where our ancestors first settled in the mid- to late-18th Century. We also planned to finally meet up with a long-time Facebook friend and attend services at his church, have dinner with a cousin, and – one of the highlights – actually have a tour of the house that my great-great-grandfather lived in after the Civil War.

We were able to do all of these things and more, and had a wonderful time. One thing I had hoped to do, but didn’t know if we could, was to visit Mother Emanuel Church in Charleston. This was just a few months after nine people were murdered by a White Supremacist as they met for prayer and Bible study. Since my great-great-grandfather’s old home was also in Charleston, I had high hopes.

In fact, we did visit Mother Emanuel, and as we gathered, there were a large number of other people arriving as well. The gates were locked and we weren’t able to go inside, and there were obvious signs of construction and repair following that hateful and horrendous act. There was a man there who had created great signs with sheets of plywood, and he invited each of us to sign our name, leave a few words, to honor the memory of the victims. I can’t remember how many hundreds of thousands of signatures he told us were there, but it was impressive.

As we stood there on a hot southern summer day, I began to weep. Looking back, it was similar to the spontaneous and uncontrollable weeping I had experienced at the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC several years before. A weeping not just for the awful loss of life, but for a society that allows such things to occur, that at times seems to foster the very hatred that is represented. An African-American woman who was there saw me and opened her arms to me. We embraced, and through my tears all I could say was, “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.” But I felt her consolation even though I should have been consoling her. It was a sacred moment in a sacred space.

This week I am watching “O.J.: Made in America,” a documentary film that won an Academy Award this year. It’s long – five episodes, each about an hour-and-a-half long. I’ve just finished the second episode, and it’s gut-wrenching. You see, it isn’t just about O.J. Simpson. It’s about the Watts Riots and Eulia May Love and Rodney King. It’s about all the things I was too busy to pay close attention to when they were happening, but that were telling people of color over and over and over and over again, “You’re not important to us. Your lives aren’t as valuable as ours. You are disposable.”

It’s about Mark Fuhrman (remember him?) saying, “What do they think they’re proving by burning their own businesses? I don’t understand it.” It’s about Police Chief Daryl Gates defending the indefensible, and blaming King for the excessive force that was used against him. It’s about all the ways we as a nation have failed the most vulnerable among us. Perhaps if Mark Fuhrman had read history, had seen that generations of our fellow citizens had tried every method available to them to achieve parity, only to be spurned at every turn, perhaps then he could have understood the anger and frustration that leads people to set fire to their own neighborhoods, to break and destroy, to loot and to crush. Perhaps he would have understood that when the wall of injustice is falling on you, you do whatever it takes to get someone’s attention, even if it seems unreasonable and counterproductive to passers-by.

I can see that. I don’t like it and I don’t condone it, but I can understand it. I’m just sorry it took me so long.

And now we are living in a time when people are being banned because they’re Muslim or Mexican, when cemeteries are being vandalized because they hold the mortal remains of Jews, when a White Supremacist sits in the highest halls of power in this country. I may have been busy working and raising children in the ’70s and ’80s and ’90s and not paying close attention, but I’m paying attention now. And I’m using my voice in whatever way I can – postcards and rallies and marches and town halls. Tweets and emails and Facebook posts. Learning how to be not just an advocate, but an ally. Learning to put aside my natural inclination to speak in favor of listening and learning – and then speaking the truth of what I’ve learned. That’s why I #RESIST.

And I think often of that kind, embracing woman in whose arms I wept on a hot summer southern day. And I wonder if she ever thinks of me.

Dinner with a friend

~ Cheryle Gardiner ~ Leave a comment

Last Friday, I went out to dinner with an old friend. Patty and I first met when we both worked for Portland Parks in the late ’90s, lost touch after I left in ’01, and reconnected on Facebook a year or so ago. I always enjoy her company and look forward to our occasional dinners.

As is common these days, our conversation soon turned to politics. Patty voiced her concern that those of us on the left are fragmented in our approach to what’s going on right now, and that it would be better to be cohesive if we hope to have electoral successes in 2018 and 2020. The question is: How do we do that?

Right now, we do have a lot of fires that we’re trying to put out. The Trump administration has mounted assaults on LGBTQIA rights, Women’t rights, immigration and human rights, our national lands, our ecology, education, and with the “get tough on crime” stance, a certain assault against people of color. And, really, that’s only part of the things we’re fighting against. The lack of qualifications and sheer incompetence of Trump’s cabinet is frightening and threatens the very foundations of our nation.

I don’t think anyone has all the answers, but I agree that we do need to work together. The most important thing we can do for now is continue to voice our objections, to attend marches and protests, to participate in Town Halls, call our representatives, and as we are able to provide financial support to those politicians whose positions most closely match our own. We also need to continue to support our representatives who are taking a stand against the current administration’s appointments and policies. There is an abundance of resources available on the internet, and most anyone can find a cause to support.

I believe the great danger is stretching ourselves too thin, or exhausting ourselves with outrage. For me, the decision of the 9th Circuit Court last week caused me to breathe such a huge sigh of relief that I became fully aware of just how wound up I’ve been. When I realized that the action of a court on just one issue seemed so monumental, I knew that I need to find a way to pace myself. I can’t do everything, so I’ve had to make hard decisions about just what to do. My choices are going to focus on particular human rights, even though that decision necessarily means I can’t focus on the environment, education, egregious cabinet choices, or even the Supreme Court. Of course, I can still make phone calls on those issues – and I will – but my volunteer time will go toward protecting vulnerable people.

Other people – those with more experience and more knowledge – might find that focusing on DAPL, NAFTA, SCOTUS, or any of our alphabet of issues fits more comfortably into their lives. The important thing to remember is to not burn out. Take some time away from Facebook and the news, even if it’s just a few hours or even a day or two. Treat yourself to a massage or a nice dinner out. Pet your cat. Walk your dog. Appreciate the view out your window. Whatever it is that brings you joy and peace, do that thing – even if it’s just for a few minutes.

This week I’m going to a campaign kick-off for a woman I know only through Facebook. She’s running for the school board, and although she isn’t in my district, I’m supporting her with my presence even though I can’t support her with my vote. We need new blood in politics and those who are willing to put themselves out there deserve more than just an attaboy – they deserve our presence and where possible, our dollars. If you’re thinking about running for office, good for you! Let me know and I’ll publicize your campaign.

Each time I blog I will try to post new links to information that will help you find your place. If these links are useful, please let me know. If you know of other opportunities, put them in the comments and I’ll highlight them in my next post.

And to respond to Patty’s concern: Yes, we are fragmented to some degree, but the bottom line is that human rights covers everyone’s rights. Concern for the environment covers pipelines, fracking, drilling, loss of Federal lands, and animal protections. So really, we aren’t that divided. We just need to hold the umbrella a little higher and let more people into the shelter of our concerns. I’m optimistic that before the mid-terms roll around we’ll have identified a more cohesive message. And in the meantime you can still make those phone calls, send postcards, and show up when you can.

And still we persist!

How to Get Out of the Cycle of Outrage in a Trump World

Your Guide to the Sprawling New Anti-Trump Resistance Movement

Elect a Brand New Congress That Works for All Americans

Indivisible – A Practical Guide For Resisting the Trump Agenda