How's Everybody Doing?
Although we expected the worst, somehow the last 44 days have been even more awful than any of us could have imagined. And yet, I think I’m doing…kinda-sorta-maybe okay? If it helps, I’m here to report that my coping mechanisms are firmly in place. I’ve limited my media consumption significantly, and have also altered my podcast queue to make space for more audiobooks. (In a fantasy life, Ina Garten is my fairy goddessmother, so it’s not surprising that I devoured her memoir.) My husband and I made a pact of sorts not to blurt out the horrors of the day without checking to make sure the other is ready to hear it. I’ve made a point to get outside to walk or to run, even if the weather isn’t the kindest. And I’m still hitting the kickboxing gym several times a week, which has been a terrific outlet but I might need to find additional vessels for my rage, as I set a goal to knock down five boxing bags in 2025 but as of last week I’m already up to number three.
I am also checking social media only once or twice per day. Some days, I scroll for approximately one minute before I have to put my phone down; other times, I stumble upon something that gives me a tiny sliver of inspiration. One example is this recent article from The Atlantic, “The Anti-Social Century” by Derek Thompson (I included a gift link, please check it out). Granted, it covers a topic that isn’t exactly uplifting—Americans’ increasing isolation from one another and how it’s changing our society—and while I wasn’t necessarily optimistic after I read it, I came away with much to ponder. One nugget I found particularly fascinating was Thompson’s characterization of the infrastructure that forms our societal lives—the inner ring of family and close friends, the outer ring of our “tribe” (those who share our viewpoints and principles), and the middle ring, comprised of the people we may not know well but with whom we share a sense of community; in other words, our “village.” Thompson observes that our modern home-based and phone-centric culture has strengthened the inner and outer rings, but the village ring is fraying badly for it. He writes, “The middle ring is key to social cohesion. Families teach us love, and tribes teach us loyalty. [But] The village teaches us tolerance….The village is our best arena for practicing productive disagreement and compromise—in other words, democracy. So it’s no surprise that the erosion of the village has coincided with the emergence of a grotesque style of politics, in which every election feels like an existential quest to vanquish an intramural enemy.”
Thomas goes on to paint progressives and MAGA types with the same brush as far as pointing out each side’s culpability in the partisan divide, and I take issue with this. Maybe this is my blind spot, but I don’t think there are an equal number of “good people on both sides” when it comes to the opposition in question here. However, I do agree that being physically present with others, especially when sharing opposing views, is an important way to bridge gaps in understanding, because at the heart of things, it’s pretty hard to hate up close. Since COVID especially, but even from the advent of social media, the opportunities to be around other people have gotten smaller in number while our desire to stay home grows larger. Online definitely ≠ irl.
I have spent the past 44 days thinking long and hard about how to stand up and fight for our democracy. Our political leaders are decidedly not meeting this moment, at all. So it’s on us to unify our fellow citizens to rise up against the tyranny we face. To me, a key to this is to engage with our respective villages. Don’t get me wrong; I am not suggesting we hold hands with our neighborhood MAGAs and sing a patriotic version of “Kumbaya.” But if we break out of our isolation and engage with those that we might typically avoid, little by little, minds might change. God knows that we all have a lot more in common now than we did before Trump’s cabinet of horrors was seated and Elon sicced his doofus incel army upon the U.S. government. So it’s not hard to imagine striking up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store about the price of food or commiserating with a neighbor who has lost his or her job, and being able to see the other person’s humanity for a few short seconds, even if—and especially if—you don’t fully agree with them. A glimpse like this might be just enough to make you consider more thoughtfully what they might be saying, and maybe, rethink something for yourself.
I’m not saying this will change the world, but I feel it’s worth trying. But do I know *how* to go about doing this, exactly? Not really! But just reorienting my way of thinking feels like the right step to take in this moment, so I’m going to try. I’m also going to get back to writing in this space about what I’m doing to effect change in my tiny corner of the country. One thing that has given me enormous satisfaction lately is leaving snarky comments on the insipid and sometimes mendacious social media updates from my congressional representatives. Yes, I’m including Senators Kirsten Gillibrand and Chuck Schumer in the same sentence as my horrendous House representative, Mike Lawler. But I save the bulk of my sarcastic firepower for Lawler, because he’s the absolute worst and he deserves every bit of it from me and the other constituents who ratio the crap of every last thing he posts.
Keep an eye out for future posts from me about the abominable SAVE Act and two vital Congressional special elections that are coming soon, as well as the Wisconsin state supreme court election that could change everything. (Yes, my Badger daughter is still registered in the state and is ready to go.) But I’m also gonna keep beating the shit out of a bag of sand a few times a week and waiting for it to drop.
