Never Walked In High Heels

Last night I became engrossed in a debate with a fellow American about whether or not it was appropriate for us to bow when meeting the Queen of England… should we ever do so. Her argument was that it is British custom bow and “when in Rome…” The problem is, there is a difference between following cultural custom because you are a guest and completing an act of submission, which is what the bow symbolized originally.

I’m not going to talk about the point of the American Revolution and the preamble of the Constitution ensuring that Americans bow to no one. Such an argument is quickly, even if irrationally, dismissed in a postmodern world. But I do want to challenge the argument that people give: Americans should bow to the Queen as a sign of respect?.

Respect for what exactly?

If it’s respect for the culture, this is a shaky argument to say the least. I’ve never walked down Tottenham Court Road and seen one man bow to another. Unlike the Japanese, Brits are not normally the bowing type these days contrary to what you may read in fairy tales. That’s why businessmen bow when they are over in the Tokyo office. This is not a bow I have a problem with.

So then, why do British people bow to the Queen? Simply put, because she is their queen. They do not bow to their prime minister or any other member of their government. They bow to no other foreign regent but their own; British people don’t bow to the king of Saudi Arabia because he is not their sovereign. And likewise, Queen Elizabeth is not ours.

You will now no doubt say, “you should respect a world leader.” I will never disagree with this. But since when does showing respect to people mean bowing to them simply because they wear a crown on their heads. For that matter, what makes her a world leader? She was born into a regal position, this is very true, and so were many world leaders. One might even very well argue the same about a wealthy man born into his privileged position. But by being a leader it is inherent the one leads. According to most of my friends here in the UK, the only leadership activity she undertakes is putting on the crown.

I bow to no one except to God. The American Constitution and my own faith are far too engrained in me to even consider doing otherwise. Some might call it fanaticism, others can call it arrogance. But I personally think no one should be obliged to bow down to another person, ever. If we are all made of the same stuff, if we are all equal as people and as cultures, why should a title be acknowledged at all, let alone with an act which historically signifies acquiescence. You are still fearfully and wonderfully made, even in a place as sophisticated as Rome.

I’ve been told there was recently a horrific earthquake in Haiti. My pastor tells me the president’s approval ratings are at fifty percent. Evidently there’s been a change over in congress. Supposedly Google and China are at odds. Oh and Johnny Depp is dead (I read that one on Twitter… it wound up being a hoax).

Other than that I have no idea what’s going on in the world. I haven’t turned on the news, listened to my favorite talk radio station, or opened a paper since New Year’s Eve. This was the resolution I made for myself. And so, what I know of the world I get in snippets: the boldface overly dramatic Evening Standard sign, conversations with friends, a headline I happen to see from the paper the man opposite me on the tube is holding or a dubious Twitter feed. There are no images of mass graves coming into my home while I’m eating dinner. I haven’t seen a lying politician for months. And my blood pressure has probably dropped.

This year long experiment has already changed my worldview in so many ways. I can no longer assume myself to be the most jaded one at a cocktail party as every piece of news hits me fresh. I listen to other people and their opinions more, because I cannot offer my own. And once I hear of an incident, it is the principles rather than the particulars which I am left to think about.

But my favorite effect of not watching the news is I see the things in front of me much more clearly. With the extra time I now have, I’ve made an effort to spend it with the people who surround me in daily life. The truth is, everyone’s life is so dramatic that each person could be their own news show. If broadcasts are supposed to inform us about the events that shape our world, why do we not respond with the same amount of passion when our friend finds out that her husband is having an affair as we do when we hear about a politician doing the same to his wife. How can I honestly say I feel pain for people who lost their homes in a natural disaster, when I don’t even bother to understand why a man outside Waterloo Station has lost his?

I’m not even saying ‘love thy neighbor as thyself’ and everything will be fine. The truth is I don’t like the idea of being nice for niceness sake, it becomes another excuse for legalism. I think western society’s obsession with the news can be another form of this devotion to the standards of society. We appear to care about the world around us while not actually looking at the issues close to home. It’s like driving in the desert; everyone is looking at the mountains, which are miles away, wondering how the people there can live in such harsh conditions. We almost marvel at the drama of it. What we miss are the folks who we drive past that desperately need a cup of water. Perhaps we are even on our way to help the folks on the mountainside ourselves. But while this is admirable, we aren’t anywhere close to our destination. The fact is, when can’t even get where we think help needs to be without looking around and seeing first where we are.

I’ve stepped out of the Ethiopian restaurant in Elephant and Castle absolutely stuffed. Night had fallen by the time we had finished our meal and we dragged our overfull belies to the bus stop. The first bus passes us by even though we attempt to flag him down like mad. There are 12 minutes to wait in between the buses at this particular stop.

And then I see a homeless man who makes eye contact with me and I instinctively know that there is going to be trouble. He crosses the road carrying his bag and wants to kiss me on the lips. “Just one kiss.” And like always, I am stunned and speechless. He attempts to make a move. It is my friend’s 19 year old boyfriend who responds, shoving him backwards and making fierce eye contact with a strong “No” attached to it. “What? I just anted to kiss her, it’s not like I was going to hurt her.” “No.” he says again firmly. The homeless man shuffles off, yelling curses at Alex.

After we get home, I am in the shower and I feel filthy. Not because a homeless guy laid hands on me and attempted to kiss me, but rather I realize that it was the first time in my life that anyone had mentioned that this sort of behavior is wrong.

Perhaps I should explain. People, absolute strangers, try to kiss me all the time. While I was living in Chicago, homeless men and women would invade my space wanting to know my name or where I was going. And I was taught to accept it. Actually, taught is most likely the wrong word. But, to avoid commotion, I let it happen. This, combined with the fact that no one else knew what to do in such a situation meant that I was kissed by strangers a lot. Or followed while being asked annoying questions. My space is constantly invaded and I am used to it.

There comes a point in everyone’s life when people tell you something is wrong which always bothered you but you never thought to put an end to it, and all of a sudden you feel ashamed for your naïveté. You didn’t know that such behavior was a violation. You never thought that you were vulnerable and it was entirely possible to become a victim so easily. And then the fact that it took a 19 year old to know despite his immaturity what was appropriate and what was not, simply rocks the foundation of your world. You no longer feel like an adult. You no longer feel like you can take on the rest of society and live safely. The world suddenly gets very big and very dark. After this particular incident I felt helpless for several days, even in fear, and then like most things, it wore off and I moved on.

It still happens occasionally. How old the person is or what they’re wearing doesn’t seem to matter. I can usually spot trouble when it meets me on the street and I try to avoid it as much as possible. Sometimes even crossing the street myself after they have crossed it and are approaching me. Some areas seem less affected by these people. Some areas more. Elephant and Castle is particularly a place where I am on my guard. But sometimes I have no idea it’s going to happen. And as much as I want to cry out that my body is not public property, it still catches me off guard, particularly in the nice areas of town.

One night I was with two friends heading over to the Tesco Trafalgar Square. It was a late evening and one of them had just gotten out of a show that he was starring in. On our way over to the store, the two others decided that they didn’t need anything and would head home shortly thereafter. Then I saw him, another person who simply went into our cluster and tried to break into our conversation and touch me. I got out of our group and went inside Tesco while it was still lit. My friends followed me and I acted as though nothing was wrong. Then I made eye contact with one of them. “Can you stay here for a minute until he leaves? I don’t trust him.” “Yes, I will stay. Just go about your business.” So I picked up some sushi and milk, a combination that is most likely my own but being easy to get to as I realized I could get out of the store sooner, and went to the checkout extremely aware of my surroundings. Pretty soon after I was in line, one of my friends came over to me and said “We’re leaving now.” I looked over to him and said, “Is he gone?” “Yes” he said, “he’s gone.”

I sat across from the occupational therapist, going through his checklist and asking the standard questions. It was my last visit to the therapy center I had attended for 16 years. She was going through what she called the “release documents” which was to say that I was leaving the center, never to be a client again. “How have you improved in your independence since coming to this institution? Are you now able to live a fully independent life?” It was a ridiculous question on several levels. First of all I was approximately 9 months old when I first started going to therapy at the clinic. I would hope I had improved from a baby who could not sit up by herself in the past 16 years. But to further complicate the situation the therapist was asking for a definite answer to a rather nebulous question.

Do I live a fully independent life?

What the heck does that mean, “fully independent?” There are plenty of able-bodied people who aren’t at all “fully independent.” There’s the girl who is in a co-dependent relationship with her boyfriend and can’t leave him at any price. There’s the man who lacks self-confidence and therefore relies on his wife to make the decisions that he cannot take initiative for. Co-dependency is everywhere. What about the woman who can’t shovel her driveway when it’s full of snow, or calls her daughter every time the DVD player starts flashing 12:00?

In our society today, we’re not just dependent on people. Stuff ties us down and paralyzes us in an extreme way that most of us don’t recognize. SO often I hear, “I can’t go anywhere without my pillow,” or, “I don’t want to be away from wi-fi for longer than 3 hours. I need to know what’s going on.” The comforts of the home which we insist on are in their own way a confirmation of our dependency on things outside of ourselves. They tie us down, make it difficult to move at a moment’s notice, and close options and opportunities that might occur yet ask us to travel away from our home with all the comfortable stuff.

A good friend of mine is a philosophy professor up in Leeds and she asked me one day why I seemed to have this obsession with independence. According to her, none of us are independent. We can’t survive on our own. We need to go the grocery store and buy flour made by some farmer we’ve never even laid eyes on. I guess it depends on how you define independence more than anything. The word “depend” actually comes from an old Latin and French root meaning “to hang.” Properly defined by the dictionary, depend on or depend upon means “to be controlled or determined by.” Maybe it’s just the way I was brought up, but I can’t help but see the connection between being controlled and hanging oneself at the end of a rope. If the French root of the word is indeed “to hang” it quickly explains my fear of dependency. You are tying yourself to something that will inevitably not allow you to go as far as you want and much like a dog on a leash, eventually the choke collar will nip into your neck.

If we look at where the word comes from and the violent as well as suspenseful image of being controlled, we begin to wonder if independence means not being at the end of a leash. Maybe it’s about knowing that you have options to change your life and live how you would like it to be rather than living a life completely self sufficient? I can’t make my own breakfast or tie my own shoes. If you define independent in this way, my occupational therapist was a failure in her goal of helping me work towards independent living. But if it’s about having options and being able to control your life, seeking help if one method fails you and having the confidence that you will survive one way or the other, then I am independent. I have succeeded in being the driver of my life, being able to take it where I want to go, and ensure that I can meet my goals and dreams. Oddly enough I don’t feel independent during the hours I spend alone, even if I’m able to complete any task I want to. I feel the most independent when my front door revolves with people offering suggestions, borrowing a cup of flour, insisting that we live in a community where we value each other, help each other, and encourage each other to go as far as we possibly can.

There’s a homeless man outside of Waterloo Station. There’s always a homeless man outside of Waterloo Station, and I didn’t think today would be any exception. The biting cold whips around the coats and scarves of myself and my companion. She is older, considers herself a hippie and only wears natural fibers that are organically grown. Her hair turns silver a little more each day adding to the image of wisdom and magic she already exudes. By the time she was my age she was already taking place in college protests demanding peace and equal treatment around the world. I respect her for her passionate views on humanity and her liberal amounts of love.

The homeless guy spots us and smiles, reaching out his Costa cup that has been torn in half and begins asking us for money. My friend holds on to my arm tighter and urges us to keep walking even though I hesitate and slow down to look him in the eye. I smile, shake my head and walk on. “Keep walking. We have a government that can take care of him better than we can. We’re not experts in his condition and problems.”

I’m confused by her statement. Why do we assume, all over the world, that the government will take care of people in need? That the government can make all of the problems disappear? That someday there will be no poverty and no homeless if only we had the right set of social institutions and collective practices? We all have some idea that if just our party, our guy, our religion, our class, our race got into office somehow, that everything would better. And we lie to ourselves about this every election year.

Most people think that my political views don’t include things like charity or giving the little guy a chance. They assume that I’m highly liberal or highly conservative, fitting into one of the extreme poles of the situation. More often than not people say that I don’t care or I’m selfish because I don’t fit with their ideologies about what human rights are or what charity is. That’s simply not true. I believe that human rights are better described as human responsibilities and we as individuals have responsibilities to everyone else, to make sure they can and will achieve the highest standards they can possibly reach. This does mean taking action at an individual level rather than waiting for someone in Washington D.C. or Parliament to agree with us and letting them take it from there. I’m afraid that it is our nature to assume that just because a government has a program somewhere, everything is ok and it is reaching the people that it needs to. I see this all the time in America. People assuming that just because there is a law against disability discrimination that it never happens, this simply isn’t the case. Governments cannot pinpoint specific problems the way we can as individuals, and so saying it should be everyone’s responsibility is essentially saying it never will be anyone’s responsibility. Like everything else, responsibility and the enforcement of justice gets diffused so that nobody feels that they can toe the line alone.

I know I probably pass by too many people in need on the street, not just the ones crouching in the shadowed doorways trying to keep warm, but the ones who need help in my own neighborhood, who have a home and food on the table, but are desperate for so many other things. I assume when I see them living their lives independently and unobstructed by a set of stairs, I assume everything is ok and everything is provided for simply because they have two hands and two legs that work. And to some extent I need to do this in order to get anything done in my life and in order to fight for justice and expand the borderlands of creativity (my two objectives while I’m on this planet). I can’t spend every single night taking people to churches and shelters ensuring that they get help, when I need help myself so much of the time, but I also know that things put in my path, regardless of if they’re directed towards me or just in the obscure corners of my field of vision, they are there, in whatever form it may be, whether it be a physical obstacle or the fellow human in need, to be aware of and to face. And while I might not be able to do anything for him in that moment, knowing he exists, knowing that the situation, the condition of life exists, means that someday, when I am in a position to do so, I may be able to advocate for him, having never seen him again. In this way, it is my duty to acknowledge the injustices, if anything, to stay grounded in reality.

In one of my favorite books, the hero tells his love interest, “nobody gets anywhere by denying reality.” I think of this often, the second I try to avoid uncomfortable conversation or pretend that everything is fine. I’m in the car with my mother and we are discussing this book. The conversation soon turns to the difference between lying to oneself rather than lying to others. Two different categories of sins, in my opinion. The latter we all know is wrong. But the former?  How does one begin to lie to oneself, if he knows reality to begin with?

But we do exactly that. We all hate certain aspects of our lives, our relationships, much preferring to push those into a corner and soothe ourselves, rather than face what are seemingly minor problems full on. I never really understood what lying to yourself meant, until last semester when I was faced with conditions in my home that I really didn’t want to see. However, in my small two-bedroom flat, there was very few options to get away from person problems. What insisting on not lying to yourself actually means is that you have to see what is directly in front of you.

In acting, we call it living in the moment, which sounds easy, but is extremely difficult if not next to impossible to accomplish, both onstage and in reality. It’s better to understand what it means in life by first understanding what it means in acting. Briefly, it means that while an actor is onstage, he cannot be thinking about how he delivered the last line or how he will deliver the next. He can’t be thinking about what he left inside his dressing room or the technical difficulties that arise in the next scene. He has to be listening, in only the matter of the moment. He has no idea what will come next, no idea how the play will end, and at this point in time it doesn’t matter. He only needs to accomplish what has to be done now.

This is not to say that the actor denies planning ahead. Indeed every option that is offered to him by other characters, he must consider the possible outcomes of. But it does mean that nothing exists beyond what is on the stage.

In life, problems resemble a cancer. The more you ignore them or fear them, the bigger they grow. Oddly enough, if you obsess over a problem, the same thing happens. It’s a sort of ontological joke. That is, if you don’t imagine a successful outcome to begin with, if you don’t envision your cancer actually getting smaller, chances are greatly lessened that you will ever make a full recovery. So you must first get diagnosed and then take action accordingly. But denying that there is a problem and denying that there is a solution is ultimately practicing a form of escapism in your own life.

Emily, in the play “Our Town,” says it best when she questions whether anyone ever appreciates a single moment that they live in. According to the stage manager no one but poets and saints are able to even begin to do that. What’s in front of us on a daily basis is without a doubt highly overwhelming. Even looking at a chair and thinking about all the actions and reactions that are going on within the world of that chair on the subatomic level is enough to make your head spin. But, to then try to plot and plan what may or may not happen a month, year, or even a week down the road is biting off more than anyone can chew. All that we have control of is here, now, and barely that. No amount of lying in order to make oneself feel better, safer, and more at ease, will change what actually may and will happen.

Having a disability helps master this task to some degree. You have good days, and you have bad days. Days when you literally can climb a mountain, and days when you fall out of bed. On the good days, you know that there are bad days coming, you’re not suddenly going to be healed and have that be that, but you also know that you have to enjoy a good day when it comes. Going outside for a walk that lasts a little longer. And on the bad days, it means that you can’t go any further before you figure out how to, quite literally, unlock the door in front of you when your hand is shaking from spasms. And then, after you unlock the front door, you figure out what the next step is. And then the next. And then the next…

He was the type of person who says Homer is his favorite author although he has no idea what that means. A good looking man, at least in photographs, he was able to spout popular opinion so eloquently that we all thought he was a perfectly lovely man if not a little bland. When he introduced himself, he did it with all the right moves, so you thought he really wanted to get to know you, be on your level, respect you, and talk about important things—things, which few people are willing to speak about.

Then you would ask him about his opinions, a detailed question out of curiosity, and he couldn’t back them up. “Everybody just knows it’s a fact.” Talking about deep issues, his eyes would eventually glaze over, and he would dismiss himself quickly with a pale face and little to no idea of what was just said.

Lots of people buy into popular option—believing what they hear on the news and read in a magazine. I’m learning that people are spouting out the same statistics, the same quotes, and even the same opinions—all just hand me downs heard from one person and said to another until they become the stuff of legend. This is nothing new of course but I feel like people have begun to just glaze over, to not pay attention to new ideas. They would rather stay just as they are than have their opinions refined. I find walking around London, hearing the same quotes over and over, repeated almost like automatons scarier than any zombie that might visit my door on Halloween.

Often people will refuse to engage in conversation, simply repeating these lines and catch phrases even when they have no relation to the subject being spoken about. This particular individual was extremely good at dropping into a conversation without the pretext of the last five minutes. Working with him was like working with one of those dolls with the string in its back that you would pull and it would say random things. His eyes looked alive, but often what he said bared no relation to what was being discussed, and everyone would stop, look at him for a minute and then go on realizing that no conversation piece from him was helpful as of yet.

Time and Newsweek simply are not enough to form an opinion. They’re the crux of pop media that one has to read in order to be called “well-educated.” If you follow books suggested by certain individuals, memorize statistics on any cable news station, you are entitled to call yourself well-educated and well-informed. But the very concept of being well-educated suggests that not everyone is. How can this title be yours if you are just reading the same things that everyone else reads?

Getting into political discussions today is about as creepy as watching the Stepford Wives at a grocery store. You come up with an obstacle and they simply don’t know what to do. If you say that one of Maya Angelou’s books wasn’t good, no one asks you to defend it; they’ll just shut you down. Going through life not thinking and with the brain shut off is becoming a more and more common occurrence, almost to the point where you expect popular opinions to band together and start doing the Thriller dance down the street as you run into your house to take cover.

Don’t shut off your mind—the very organ that makes life worth living. People need to learn that it’s okay not to have an opinion. If you don’t have time or the interest to go further than headline news, that’s okay, perhaps your resources are better used elsewhere. So many walk about the planet unconnected and yet can quote every statistic on last nights news, seeking anything that will numb their minds and put their conscience at ease, even if it means refusing to dig deeper into an issue and really find out the truth. The most moving sight in the world is the sight of man fully alive, questioning boldly, and holding fast to the truth.

I was out for breakfast with some friends of mine when I was introduced to an older woman who I knew by association. She was wrapped in a blue-green scarf and she looked really quite fascinating. We began talking and someone brought up the political subject of X. Now for the purpose of this entry, I am not going to tell you what X is. X is a certain national figure, but I will not give you any other details or political associations. If I did, the purpose of the piece would be lost. I like X but X is not particularly popular in the mainstream right now, and I know if I would tell you who X was, I would immediately lose you, I think your reaction would be focused on X rather than on the point of this entry. This is evidenced by the woman’s reaction when I gave my opinion on X.

“I can’t believe you like X! What is there to like? There is nothing to like about X.”

Her response was so visceral that it was shocking! Here I was, a perfect stranger giving my opinion and she immediately shot me down like a schoolgirl wanted to shut up anyone who didn’t believe in her popularity. However, in this response she made it clear that not only had she no respect for X, she had no respect for my opinion of X, and through her ungracious response made it clear that she had no respect for anyone who wasn’t as starkly opposed to X as she was.

Now, had I known her for years, and years, I could understand her reaction, but on first acquaintance it was shocking. It made me feel repulsed by her, and as I was just trying to gather up information about this woman to determine whether or not she could be a potential friend, this graceless display came out, making it doubtful that I would ever want to be her friend in the first place. It also made me question what she valued. Clearly, it wasn’t me. I had commented that I disagreed with her within the first hour of us meeting. That couldn’t have been a particularly good introduction, but later in the conversation she claimed that she was a great “embracer of freedom.” Now, given her reaction to our differing opinions, I immediately had doubts as to whether or not this was really true. Freedom, more often than not, means that people are free to agree with us, but in the case of this woman, she wasn’t interested in anyone feeling free to disagree with her. And for that matter, did she really even respect her own opinions? If she did, surely she thought that they could stand up to my own disagreement and would be able to at least hold her tongue rather than immediately jump all over someone who disagreed with her on a relatively small issue.

Disagreement in my mind is one of the most important and fascinating elements about human relationships. It’s through disagreements that we all become better people, not clones of each other. Our ideas are challenged and refined until they become impermeable and at the same time flexible enough to take on a great many people and relationships despite the contradictory beliefs. If there is disagreement among seemingly educated people, shouldn’t the first question be, why do you believe that, not how could you ever believe that?

I had known her for less than an hour and in that time had seen a single reaction that immediately turned me off from seeking a further long-term relationship. Because of one reaction, one potential friendship was gone.

Everybody knows about the American church in the UK. The second I mention a concept like the separation between church and state, my entire class rolls their eyes. They don’t believe there is such a thing. The irony is of course that the Founding Fathers left the Old World in hopes that there could be a place in the new world where government and religion never mixed. Clearly, that place is not America.

The American Church prefers to throw up its hands and say we’re not responsible for where modern government takes us. How could we ever hope to accomplish our goals with this sort of distrust? The truth is, I think that the American Church, despite its own opinion(s) of itself will prove to be under as much judgment as any other institution, should we ever be fortunate enough to meet the face of God someday. The following is a list of three simple shortcomings, or to use more dramatic language “sins” that the American church will have to answer for someday.

Number 1: A lack of access- The story about Jesus healing the paralytic after he was lowered down through a hole in the roof has particular significance to any church. Despite commercials saying that in churches, sitting congregations have their door “open to all,” a shocking number of churches have no physical access for those of us with disabilities. Many of them hide behind the idea that their building has “historical significance” and therefore is so old that they cannot be made accessible; this of course, given my physical disability, angers me to no end. It’s not even that the building itself is inaccessible, which does irritate me, but the fact that God’s house is suddenly not open to all. Many buildings all over the world are inaccessible to those of us with physical limitations. But if the church is reflective of God’s love and is supposed to be a model of morality, how can they ever justify their existence when they refuse to build a simple ramp to get into their sanctuary?

Number 2: Lack of Compassion- There is a genuine sentiment that suggests that all sinners who have not come to God are somehow inhuman and thus unworthy of value. The way that the American Church has handled the issue of homosexuality is appalling. Forgetting that Christ died for us while we were yet sinners, they then expect non-believers to uphold the morality, which we are only given when we willingly accept and follow Christ. To expect anyone to act like a Christian before he knows the face of God is like expecting a slave to behave as a free man while his ankles are still in shackles. There is an unreasonable expectation that people—all sinners—should be able to clean themselves up for the sake of not being repulsive when they first set foot in church. Thus, whenever people of certain lifestyles first try to come to God, God’s own people shun them.

Number 3: A Lack of Initiative- Here is the church’s biggest fault. Routinely we expect the government to behave like the Church and solve issues that should be of heart and mind with the law. The aforementioned debate on homosexuality is a prime example as are other issues such as the legality of marriage and abortion. The American Church has somehow fooled itself into believing that it is Washington’s role to make laws according to what is moral or immoral, rather than the church attempting to impact lives on a personal level. The influence of day-to-day morality through a higher government surely will never sit well with God. As Christ said, “Pay to Caesar what is Caesar’s” So too did he understand the difference between church and state. The two would never be a substitute for each other. Why then have we fooled ourselves into thinking otherwise?

I don’t know where this idea of the Founding Fathers ever being “Christian” came from, but their Christianity was certainly not of the same ilk as ours is today. If you look at the Constitution it is not a moral document, it is not the Ten Commandments, and it leaves individuals the freedom to behave (both socially and privately) as they wish. The American Church seems to have forgotten that we are a nation made from people who believed that there is a God, a God who gives us the freedom to behave as we wish, in conjunction with those Constitutional liberties. In assuming that America is a Christian nation, the Church has given up its own powers to understand morality, and act compassionately towards others with the hope that the government will take care of it all for them, and in this way the church has aimed for government dependency as much as the America population has.

“We are a Christian nation. We were formed as a Christian nation, and a Christian nation is what we shall claim to be. People forget that.” She was getting more frustrated in her debate. The quilt on the wall and the dried flowers were the quintessential marks of a country home. She lived in typical Middle America. Good, God-fearing, hardworking stock, who believed that all the founding fathers were men of God.

I didn’t say anything at first, but I thought back to my 11^th grade US History class and seemed to remember an early lecture brought on by an older teacher—no they weren’t all Christians I thought to myself. At least not in the way we think of when we say they were. Weren’t they deists? The longer I thought about it the more I agreed with my assumption. I finally went home to look it up on Wikipedia when my mother asked me to check my facts after breaking into the argument and making such a claim. I was right, most of them were indeed deists. I’m always envious of deists simply because I’m not one. In fact I’m the dead opposite. Reason and rationale is tempting to me though, as are many of the deist doctrines, but there are so many things I cannot agree on. Deism is best described as this: God is like a clockmaker, he put all the parts in place and let it unwind itself. It’s a kind of hands-off deity where God created the world and then sat back to watch—like he created the world for his entertainment—a substitute TV show. With this in mind, God doesn’t rule over every aspect of our lives. The ultimate anti-predestination argument, man makes his own destiny and every choice he makes is one that he is directly responsible for. Born out of the Enlightenment, this view of God is highly allowing of individualism, reason, and rationality.

Now bring that philosophy to the men who wrote our Constitution. It gives you a whole new perspective on that document doesn’t it? If you read it, all of it, you can see that that single piece of paper was meticulously written, word-by-word to allow a great amount of flexibility in interpretation. It was almost like the Founding Fathers felt the government should mimic their view of God—hands-off, let the country and people unwind how they will. There goal was to protect people’s rights and afford everyone civility.

We were not founded in the modern Christian ideals. America was truly a great experiment and nobody knew how it would turn out. In writing the Constitution, maybe nobody wanted to be responsible for the mistakes of the future. Write the document and see where the country goes. Sounds like a pretty radical idea even if it was based on the Enlightenment and reason. To afford people the greatest freedom and to make them responsible for everything they do, doesn’t agree with much of the modern interpretations of Christianity. It’s radical really, almost humanistic, and forces us to be the drivers of our own fate. The truth is, I’m unsure if any of the Founding Fathers knew what to envision when they drafted that document. Who in recent history had ever successfully tried to make a country? Any man would be panicked in such a situation, and I can’t help but wonder, did they even think America would last this long?

Current events are making people say America is going down hill or America is finally coming into it’s own—depending on who you ask. Looking at the Constitution, I can say that considering what the Founding Fathers envisioned, America has great flexibility to create whatever type nation it wants.

I’m an opinionated woman. I don’t mean to be going for the understatement of the year here or anything, but the fact is I spend a lot of time thinking and even forming my own conclusions. Public transportation is particularly good for this exercise as it allows me to observe, think and refine whenever there is little else to do.

So I was really surprised when during a conversation with a close friend I said, “I actually don’t care” in the middle of the debate. I try to think of everything in my spare time, but when he asked me about a major ethical issue, I just couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t that I couldn’t come up with an opinion if I thought hard enough—of course I could—I just wasn’t sure that it was worth my effort.

I have a friend who doesn’t know the first thing about politics, several of them actually. Oddly enough, most of them are human aid workers—reviving people who are dying, rescuing people from floods or avalanches, going in where the rest of us barely dare to pray. I don’t consider myself as the same classification as those friends, but it’s interesting. Outside of naming our new President (and possibly our Vice President) they are completely lost in a political conversation. Ask them about some act in Russia, which turn orphans out of orphanages at 15 and they can tell you exactly who passed it, when, and why, as well as subsequent acts which resulted thereof.

I think the reason why they don’t follow politics is that my friends are too busy fixing things that the politicians in armchairs talk about changing as they smoke on cigars and go out to fancy dinners. The human service acts, which my friends undertake are the equivalent of feeding prisoners of war while the rest of us are talking about strategy. We like to believe in America that our vote is actively changing something, but the truth is that it isn’t. It’s like how some people believe that paying taxes is actually charity—there’s nothing charitable about voting. It’s not some humanitarian act. Humanitarian acts don’t come from a government legislator, they come from actively getting up out of your house and encountering the world face to face, which means not being home to watch the cable news shows, and in this way, my friends being clueless about politics isn’t really an issue.

Not everyone can move the middle of Siberia in order to make the world a better place. I realize that of course, and so it is up to those of us who do have time to follow politics and care about it, to ensure that the America my friends come home to when they need a break from saving the world, it is a country they can be proud of & in. This is the place of voting and taxes. It is not however, human aid work.

After this conversation, I put myself to a challenge. If I don’t have an opinion on something, I don’t give one, that’s okay too. My friends and I are passionate people—wanting to see the world change in a huge variety of ways. However, when you care deeply about many things you cannot afford the energy to superficially care about what everyone else thinks of as being important. In my mind some issues are more important than others, and the issues I don’t think are important need to be left to someone who is passionate about those issues because in the end, who knows if there’s anyone else passionate about mine.