Principled Retreat

How much room should we give people who hold and express principles that violate our own?  

This sounds like an easy question, but like most things worth discussing,it can be more abstract.  What do we mean by “room”? Which people, exactly? How dramatic are the differences in principle? Do we have any hope in being a positive influence on one another? 

What about the co-worker who holds political opinions you don’t care for? No biggie.  Give a wide berth, don’t talk about that stuff at work, smile and nod.  Easy peasy. 

But what about the dear friend whose position wasn’t known to you while you were building what felt like a promising relationship, and then out of their mouth comes an intolerance that is at first stunning and then quickly evolves into a true conundrum?  Where’s the deal-killer line?  What are you willing to put up with?  When does your presence become a silent approval?  It’s hard to have a dear friend that you have to treat like an office co-worker with certain topics off-limits.  That seems to inherently limit the friendship. 

Everyone has to determine the line for themselves, but I believe some important considerations can be helpful guides. 

The first consideration is around harm and safety.  Obviously, if it feels unsafe, hightail it on outta there.  

The second consideration concerns the capacity for dialogue.  Are you able to have worthwhile and meaningful dialogue around this subject with your friend?  If not, well, how delicately do you want to have to dance every time you see them? 

The third consideration is your own energy.  You have the right to protect it, and if the friendship is becoming energetically exhausting for you because of this conflict, then you might need to step back.  

There is a fourth consideration I want to add that is especially important to me — if any of these would apply to a person not present, consider how important your advocacy role is to you.  For me, the line has always been clear.  If someone maintains a position steeped in bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, or racism, I don’t share space with them. Period. 

James Baldwin once said, “We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.”  I would add that we can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in anyone’s oppression, the denial of anyone’s humanity, or the denial of anyone’s right to exist. 

My approach may not work for everybody, and it’s probably a good thing it doesn’t.  We need people who stay in the fray and have the argument.  We need people who ease folks around to a new idea without being so absolute.  I appreciate those folks.  I need them because I can’t be them.  

But I’m an Aries.  We’re weird that way. 

Religion Feng Shui

A friend says, “I’m practically
allergic to organized religion,”
and I nod in solidarity and
sisterhood. I joke, “I'm
far more comfortable with
disorganized religion.”

Then I go home and check
Merriam-Webster because English
professors do that a lot more
often than you might think, and it
tells me that religion is “an organized
system of religious attitudes, beliefs,
and practices,” and I realize that
“organized religion” is redundant.

It doesn’t impact my friend’s
position, but my standup routine
has to change. I’m not comfortable
with religion period. I’m not comfortable
with the idea that moral behavior
can be organized into a list of
dos and don’ts. I’m not comfortable
with the intentions of a singular
creator being known and owned by
this or that hierarchical, patriarchal,
oligarchical, pseudo-monarchical
“non-profit” organization. I am not
comfortable with any one way being
determined the arbiter of sacredness,
the magistrate of love.

So once again, since it came
up, I check the layout of my
philosophy. I rearrange the furniture
of my creed. I tweak the angle
of my theology and take residual
dogma out with the trash. I remember
again that the only value in any of it
is the degree to which it reminds me
of who I am, the freedom with which
it allows life to flow like a breeze
or a river or a bird gliding on energy
unseen by a physical eye but
undeniable in the experience
of the flier.

It was still funny, though.

Volunteer Flower

A volunteer of green clings to
the edge of the sidewalk
at an out-of-the-way place
the weedeater may miss
long enough to sink roots
deep enough to support
the flower.

The seed was planted in
mystery without intention
or design but still somehow
managed to land in a
spot conducive to growth,
just enough soil and water
for life.

And now the decision,
to let it remain and do
as it will, to attempt a
transplant into an
established bed, to dig
a whole new bed around it,
or kill it.

The latter is inconsistent
with my soul, the new bed
is a commitment not yet
called for, the transplant
is risky and could cause
its death, and so, for now
it remains.

As is, growing in the squeeze
of pavement, bringing
beauty to a barren place,
offering itself just as it is,
just where it is, to help
joy flower in a heart
craving joy.

Flowers fade, but some
come around same time
next year, returning
again and again to a
spot that welcomes it,
volunteering again and again
to blossom anew.

Anyway

You had the perfect response
almost. I believed I’d be
safe with you, and I know you
believed I was. But almost
perfect can turn un-
certain in an instant, in
a word.

You listened to my story
with gentle eyes, eyes care-
fully set, and a mouth firmly
neither a smile nor a frown. You
wanted to be seen as taking
me seriously. I held your
attention with a panoramic
memoir of my life in love.
I offered my journey as
evidence in the trial of my
authentication. I explained
and explained and explained my-
self.

And you gave an almost perfect
response. It should have been
three words, but you added
a fourth, and that one word,
that fourth word turned a corner
you didn’t intend, I am sure, but
still, it careened right into
qualified acceptance, head-
long into good will with
a short half-life.

I love you
anyway.

I hear
Even though you’re wrong,
I love you
Even though you’re strange,
I love you
Even though you’re less than,
I love you
Even though you’re abnormal,
I love you.
Even though you’re weird,
I love you.
Even though you’re gay,
I love you.

To which I say,
(sigh)
I love you for trying
anyway.