A few months ago, I had a conversation with the young man
who helps me do my barn chores. He’s a polite, well meaning neighbor kid whom
I’ve know since he was six years old.
While I was mucking out one stall and he was mucking the other, he told
me that he was looking forward to watching the first Presidential debate. I admit that I was surprised since he doesn’t
seem the least bit interested in anything outside his small, isolated world. When I asked why, he eagerly announced that
he was planning to vote for Donald Trump.
Startled, I stopped mucking. I tentatively
asked why, and he told me that he liked Trump’s economic and health care
plans. I bit my tongue. I said that I
don’t discuss politics. I didn’t blurt out, “But he’s a racist and he’s a bully
and he’s disrespectful to women!” I was afraid that the young man would decide
that he didn’t want to help me anymore and quit working for us.
It was the first of
many instances where I didn’t speak up when people in my community said things
– often hateful and bigoted – against Hillary Clinton and in praise of Donald
Trump. I kept telling myself that I didn’t
want to make them mad at me since I had to live with them long after the
election would be over. At the same
time, I felt my mother looking down on me, scolding me for not calling a spade
a spade and defending my beliefs. I was
ashamed of myself for being silent.
There was a terrible dichotomy because some of these people,
who were clearly not concerned about the racism and the misogyny being spewed
by Trump and his surrogates, were at the
same time, good folks, good neighbors whom I genuinely liked. It would all be fine unless we dug a bit
deeper and uncovered this really ugly truth. I felt that they didn’t give a shit about what happened to people who were different
than they were. They didn’t want to be
connected to everyone else on the planet. They wanted to protect their little
corner of the earth and justify their own beliefs, and they appeared to truly hate
anyone who thought the way that I did. I
began to feel their anger and frustration radiating all around me. It scared
me.
Yesterday was my birthday.
It did not go as I expected it would. I thought that I would be
celebrating the first woman President’s hard fought victory. I really wanted us to have a Mom-in-Chief so
badly. Our country needs nurturing and healing and an end to the bullying, mean
culture that has mushroomed like a nuclear bomb during this election season. Instead, there is terrible fear that we will
fall back into the dark days before civil rights, women’s rights, gay rights,
environmental rights, human rights were given to those of us who had been
previously trampled and abused.
Over the years, I can see that my young friend, who reliably
and cheerfully comes to help me with my barn chores, has also grown to love my
horses. He had never spent any time
around big animals before, but it’s clear that he enjoys being with them. It is also obvious that he loves trees,
plants and nature. This morning, when he
comes to muck the stalls with me, I will try to start a new conversation with
him. I have no idea what I will say, but
I will attempt to find common ground, listen carefully and keep an open heart.
I believe that we all need to do that starting right now.
