The TML Blog
America, We Need to Talk
“Talking to each other instead of talking about each other is not some kind of nicey-nice idea. It's the difference between societies falling apart and societies getting something wonderful done.”
— Elizabeth Lesser
Like many of you, I am still processing the events of Wednesday, January 6th…a day that will no doubt live in infamy. I find myself struggling to string together the words to perfectly describe what I (what we) witnessed and what I feel. I am enraged…I am mortified…I am heartbroken…I am shocked…but I cannot say that I am surprised. This was not an accident. This was not random. This was a culmination of years of rhetoric and complicity. This has further compounded the collective trauma that was the-year-we-shall-not-speak-of and shined a spotlight on the deep divides that exist in our country.
“We have the ability to make ourselves incredibly accessible to billions of people, but that accessibility appears to begin and end at our keyboards.”
But I don't want to talk about the event itself—anyone who knows anything about me knows where I stand. Instead, I want to talk about how we get through this—because we will get through this. Emotions are high right now and we find ourselves at yet another fork in the road in terms of the direction of our country. I certainly do not claim to have all of the answers, but after many conversations and some time to reflect on this exact question that has been posed to me several times over the past few days, my answer is this: we have to start having the hard conversations.
We find ourselves in an age where you can send a message around the world with just one click of a mouse…or share a photo of your brunch to all of your friends in a matter of seconds…or fight with complete strangers about sports or politics on various platforms. We have the ability to make ourselves incredibly accessible to billions of people, but that accessibility appears to begin and end at our keyboards. As a Millennial (and as a solid Enneagram 9), I have always struggled with confrontation, giving my (true and full) opinion, and frankly having hard conversations. And as a “Southern young lady” it was ingrained in me from a young age that it was impolite to discuss things such as money, politics, and sex openly. When difficult situations would arise, the “flight” in my “fight or flight” would immediately kick in, causing me to become defensive, to deflect, or to shut down altogether. And I believe that experience to be true for many others as well. Then the internet appeared, and we found that pendulum swinging so far in the opposite direction—digitally shouting down those who would disagree with us at every opportunity and seeking refuge in our respective echo chambers. And as therapeutic as owning a Twitter troll can be at times, that isn’t how we make progress.
“We have to be willing to not only make our voices, opinions, and stances heard but also to allow the same for others.”
Like most things when it comes to making progress, it starts with us. Again, for us Millennials especially, it’s easy to watch an event like the insurrection at the Capitol unfold and be affected by it but still experience a huge disconnect. The tragedy of 9/11 occurred during our most formative years, and I still vividly remember watching the towers burn with fear and pain and confusion in my heart and yet…I never felt a seismic shift in my life because of it. As adults now we obviously have a much better understanding of the world, but I think we are still lacking one very important piece of the puzzle: principled responsibility.
So what does that look like? We have to first understand that whether we feel the direct effects of an event or not, they still affect us in some way, shape, or form. We then have to claim our responsibility as an active participant in society and share some accountability in the successes and the shortcomings that come with that. And finally…we have to start having the hard conversations—with family, with friends, with colleagues—in the form of civil discourse. We have to be willing to not only make our voices, opinions, and stances heard but also to allow the same for others. In my most recent interview with WVNN radio, I made the point that it is absolutely okay (and healthy!) to disagree with someone—completely and fervently—but we must not lose our empathy. That doesn’t mean not holding people accountable for their actions and that does not mean allowing people who have proven themselves to be toxic and harmful to stay in your life, but we have to make the effort. We have to try.
And although my show Alabama Politics This Week has certainly gone a long way to push me to express myself more openly and has forced me to discuss tough topics and have these hard conversations with those who may not agree with me some (or most) of the time, I am absolutely still a work in progress. But if the-year-we-shall-not-speak-of has taught us anything, it’s that we can do hard things. We must do hard things. Because I believe that until we start recognizing the humanity in each other and begin talking to each other in the form of civil discourse with the true intention of seeking understanding and common ground, what we are experiencing now—which is not normal—will almost certainly become so.
So consider this a challenge: start by discussing last week's attack with someone in your inner circle such as a close friend or a family member you trust and know will be willing to engage with you. Make sure to listen to them, even if they may not agree with your views—especially if they don't agree with your views—and then share yours. We all have different life experiences that have shaped us into who we are, whether it be because of our gender, race, affiliation, generation, family dynamic, religion, or culture, and we have so much to learn from each other because of that. I cannot guarantee that any agreements will be made or that every conversation will be fruitful or that it will even solve all/any of our problems, but I do believe that having these conversations—however hard they may be—will only serve to better us as people, as a society, and—hopefully—as a country.
Just Say "Yes"
“Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.”
— Dale Carnegie
Yesterday's MY BODY, MY CHOICE rally was brimming with so many emotions: anger, excitement, fear, courage, frustration, hope. So many amazing people of all genders, races, religions, ages, identities, backgrounds, cultures, and walks of life showed up at Butler Green to have their voices heard and to stand in solidarity with one another—friends and strangers alike—and it was truly a thing of beauty.I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to speak at this event. And although I still hold the same beliefs on this issue today that I have my whole life, 10 years ago...5 years ago...hell, 2 years ago, I would have never had the courage to speak publicly like this. (Fun fact: I would have failed my public speaking class in college if it hadn't been for A) it being a summer class; B) my professor's pity.) But when asked, I said "yes"...because saying "yes" has been what has gotten me to where I am today.Before 2017, I had zero political background, zero political experience, zero political education. I had no reason to believe that there was a place for me in this world or that I had anything to contribute to it. But I was lucky to have amazing people believe in me, and when opportunities presented themselves, I then had the audacity to believe in myself and say "yes."I say all this to tell you that not only are politics vital to all of us, but also there is a place for you, too, in this realm—there is a place for all of us. And there needs to be. It doesn't matter your age or experience or where you come from or your level of education—your perspective and ideas and voice are needed and necessary.And that was the message I wanted to convey yesterday—one that would encourage you to also step outside of your comfort zone and find ways to get involved. Because you have it in you and the opportunities are there...you just have to say "yes."
Below is the text of MY SPEECH, as well as links to local/statewide progressive political organizations to help you find your place and how you can get involved.
"Today we’re going to be hearing from some incredible advocates and activists, but I’m here to talk to you all about the political aspect. Now, I don’t want to stand up here and bore you with a bunch of numbers and data—that’s not my style—but I have to cite these very important ones: The female population in AL: 51%Do you know what the percentage is of female members of the AL House? 17%And the percentage of the female members of the AL Senate? 11% Just think about that for a second: 51% population, but only 17% and 11% representation. Advocacy for reproductive rights is incredibly vital—but so is supporting and electing candidates who will listen to those advocates and implement the policies that will support reproductive rights. This means supporting PROGRESSIVE candidates. And more specifically, supporting progressive FEMALE candidates. And even more specifically, supporting MARGINALIZED female progressive candidates. We saw a huge rise nationwide in progressives, women, women of color, and LGBTQ+ persons running for office last year. And here in Alabama, we, too, saw a rise in progressive, women, and women of color candidates running for office—locally and statewide. I was actually lucky enough to act as the campaign manager for the amazing Amy Wasyluka’s State Senate campaign. And the data shows that in a community when women are uplifted and empowered, the community as a whole thrives. And when progressive women are elected to office, they put forward and support legislation that supports and protects women. If I could encourage you to do anything today, it would be to not let the fear of not knowing about politics keep you from getting involved. I promise you—no one knew less about politics than I did 2½ years ago. You don’t have to come from a family of politicians or have a degree in Political Science to be involved in politics, you just have to be a citizen of the world who cares about what’s going on in your community and a desire to make a difference. And there are SO many ways to get involved: You could run for office, or encourage a friend to run. If running for office isn’t an option, then find a candidate you support and volunteer for them. Get involved with a local political or activist organization. Support organizations like Persistence PAC and Emerge AL who are doing work to financially support and train progressive female candidates here in Alabama. Call, write, or meet with your representatives to let them know where you stand on this issue and hold them accountable. Remember: they. work. for. you. Talk to your family, friends, neighbors, coworkers about the issues you care about—like reproductive rights—and use your personal relationships and experiences to help them understand why it’s so critical and why they should support candidates who also find it critical. Make sure that you and everyone you know is registered. to. vote. Whether big or small, we all have a place in politics and a role to play—there is a place for you—you just have to show up. In closing, I want to leave you with this: Regardless of how messy and frustrating and overwhelming as it can be, we no longer have the luxury to not care when it comes to politics. Elections have consequences, and the passing of this abortion ban is proof of that. So I urge you, when you go home today—go home with a sense of hope, but also with a sense of purpose...go home feeling inspired, but also empowered to be the change...go home angry, but also with a plan of action. But please, PLEASE...do not just go home. Because hope and inspiration and anger without action is just that. Today we have proven in the most spectacular way what a group of empowered women and allies with a sense of purpose and a plan of action can do in a very short amount of time. We can be the difference—and if we keep fighting the good fight—we most certainly will be. Thank you."
(Originally published May 20, 2019)
Finding My Voice in the Perfect Storm
"Let us have faith in each other. Let us not grow weary. Let us not lose heart. For there are more seasons to come...and more work to do." — Hillary R. Clinton
It's been one year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. And when I think back on this time last year, those visceral feelings come rushing right back as though it were yesterday... The panic. The disbelief. The anger. The sorrow. I got caught in a tailspin of emotions and was left feeling hopeless.And then came the phone call from my grandmother—words which I will carry with me for the rest of my life: "Honey, I know you're sad. We all are. But you're only allowed to be sad for so long...then you have to do something. So what are you going to do?" I knew she was right...but I didn't have an answer. I had just turned 30 years old, and I had never been politically active in my life, nor did I know anyone who was. So I made the typical Millennial move—#GoogleIt—and there it was: Madison County Democratic Women. And that's where it all began...
Before I knew it, I was being embraced by this force and found myself saying "Yes!" to everything. I was busy—I joined several organizations and multiple committees. I was meeting people—I met so many people from different backgrounds and generations and walks of life that I probably never would have otherwise met. I was doing things I had never fathomed I would do—I marched. I protested. I put signs in my yard and magnets on my car and dedicated a portion of my closet to statement tees. I was feeling that force become a part of me...or was I becoming a part of it?
As I reflect back on this past year, it was most certainly a whirlwind. It was at times frustrating and stressful and even down-right maddening. But there were many more moments that were educational and inspiring and, honestly, just a whole lot of fun. I learned so much about the world and myself this year...from complacency and advocacy to apathy and empathy. I got to hear from people I greatly admire and even meet some of them. And I have formed some of the greatest friendships that I know I will cherish all the days of my life.
And in that reflection, I can't help but think about all the things that had to happen to get me to where I am today...to this very moment—from moving back home to work flexibility to the (hellacious) election to joining the right groups with the right people at the right time. You see, I had always had thoughts and opinions and ideas about the world and politics—but it wasn't until this perfect storm that I truly found my voice to put thoughts to words, and in turn, those words to action...
And I am then left wondering: "Is this a new version of myself that I have become?" or "Has this always been a part of me that I've just been too afraid to embrace?" Perhaps it's a little bit of both, but that doesn't really matter. What I do know and what does matter is that those feelings I was so deeply consumed by this time last year have been replaced with: panicCalm. disbeliefBelief. angerPassion. sorrowHope. Whether it was there all along or a recent discovery, I am better now than I was then. I still have so much more to learn and to do, but I am hopeful for the future and excited for this new season of my life.
I would encourage anyone reading this to not wait for some catastrophic occurrence to start caring or speaking out or doing something to better the world around you, but if it does—always keep your eyes, ears, heart, and mind open. Because who knows...you may one day find yourself caught up in your own perfect storm, and you don't want to miss your shot to find the voice you never knew you had. Now that I have found my voice, I don't plan on being quiet anytime soon...or throwing away my shot...
"...I’m past patiently waitin’ // I’m passionately // Smashin’ every expectation // Every action’s an act of creation! // I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow // For the first time, I’m thinkin’ past tomorrow // And I am not throwin' away my shot...”
— Hamilton: An American Musical
(Originally published November 15, 2017)
I Can't Keep Quiet
"I write for those women who do not speak, for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified, because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves. We've been taught that silence would save us, but it won't."
— Audre Lorde
Let me start by clarifying something...
FEMINISM:
(n.) fem·i·nism \ˈfe-mə-ˌni-zəm\ 1) the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes; 2) organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests.
Ok, now that we've cleared that up...
Regardless of your personal feelings, this past weekend's Women's March was a historic HERstoric day—millions of women (and men) gathered together in solidarity across the nation AND world with the main focus being love, equality, and a willingness to stand up for what is right. I was fortunate to be a part of this beautiful movement, and I came home with this incredible high of empowerment and hope for a better tomorrow. And then, as it tends to do, reality set in.
I scrolled through my social media pages that were (gloriously) flooded with positive photos, articles, and stories about the Women's March on Washington and all of its sister cities...that was then abruptly and brutally cut by anti-March posts. I gasped. I couldn't wrap my mind around the concept of someone being AGAINST this movement—a peaceful, inclusive movement—especially those who were women.
.Why?! How?!
I could feel this tinge in my heart reading these words of disgust and disapproval. Questions began to swirl in my mind: "Do they not understand what this was about? That it wasn't ONLY about women, but also rights for LGBTQ+, immigrants, Muslims, working-class, poor, education, and the environment?? Do they not know the difference between 'whining' and 'activism'???"
With all of these thoughts bouncing around in my head, I decided to take the time to read and re-read these negative posts in order to gain some sort of perspective as to where these comments were coming from. I had to keep in mind that these people have the same right to an opinion and a voice that I do, and they, too, deserved to be heard. And after careful review and quite a bit of processing and reflection, this is my personal observation and understanding as to why these people feel that the Marches are wrong/unnecessary/anti-men/whining/pointless/etc.:
These individuals do not feel that they are victims and/or have not been victimized. These individuals feel that they are equal in every way. These individuals do not feel that any of their rights or freedoms are being threatened. These individuals feel respected as men/women and humans. These individuals have never felt discriminated against or marginalized. These individuals have never felt like second-class citizens. These individuals feel that because Americans by birth are given more freedoms than those of other countries, that should be enough. These individuals don't believe climate change is a pressing issue. These individuals are more concerned with economic issues than social issues.
Notice I did not say, "Those who didn't participate in or support the March are sexist, racist, homophobic, xenophobic, gun-toting, woman-hating, anti-feminists!" Because they are not one and the same. Just as those who did participate in these Marches aren't "men-hating, police-degrading, gay-agenda-pushing, handout-taking, godless baby-killing socialists" (to put it lightly, just based on things I've read). The main problem on this one particular matter isn't that one side is "bad" or "wrong"...the problem is that we don't understand each other.
If you are anti-March, I do not hold any ill will towards you—because I know the root of why is that you don't understand it. If you can relate/identify with the paragraph above, then I truly and sincerely congratulate you. I wish there were more people who felt the way you do. But unfortunately, there are not.
In fact, there are far too many who have felt victimized, discriminated against, threatened to have their rights and freedoms taken away, scared for their future/the future of their children/the future of the planet, and harassed solely for loving who they love or being who they are.
And with an administration that has built its platform on these very fears, the gesture had to be BIG and it had to be NOW.
And honestly, I myself identify with a few of those statements—as a straight, white, cisgender, middle-class, educated, American-born woman, that is part of my privilege. And there is nothing wrong with being born privileged (I repeat, there is nothing wrong with being born white/Christian/straight/American/privileged/etc.), as it cannot be helped...just as it cannot be helped to be born less privileged. The privilege itself is not what matters—what matters is what you DO with that privilege. And by that, I mean you essentially have two options:
1) you can use your privilege to help those less fortunate; or
2) you can live life under the motto: "If it's not a problem for me, then it's not a problem."
If you fall under the first category, then I think we're good here. If you fall in or around #2, then Imma need you to have several seats and listen up...
I get it. Truly, I do. Because I used to be like you: I used to live in my own little world and worry only about myself and those closest to me. "Racism isn't a thing anymore, right? I mean, I'M not racist, and I've never really experienced anyone else being racist. So...everything must be cool on that front."
And yet, I've never seen a million dollars in my life, but I'm pretty sure it's safe to say millionaires do exist. Let me put it to you this way... "OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND" DOES NOT APPLY HERE.
Just because you haven't personally experienced something, doesn't mean that it's not happening around you or that it's not a problem.
Have I personally experienced racism? No. But I have seen it firsthand and have had African-American friends tell me horror stories of situations that they have endured. Am I personally worried about having my marriage rights revoked? No. But I do worry that my best friend may lose his right to marry the man of his dreams. Do I personally fear being shipped off to another country? No. But I do fear for my friends who may have been born here, but risk losing their parents to deportation. I finally had my "wake up call"—hopefully this can help serve as yours.
Although there are things that I selfishly fear for myself (women's health, education, equal pay, etc.), this March was never about me...or you for that matter. This was about something far bigger than myself or any one person. This was about walking the walk. This was about taking a stand for something I have always believed in, but was either too apathetic or too afraid to speak up. But then I realized that feeling compassion and empathy is only half the battle—you also have to SHOW it. I know the world can be a scary place that can cause you to become cynical. And I know it's so much easier to sit in the comfort of your home behind your keyboard and criticize those who are actively trying to make a difference. But if you TRULY want this country to be great, you have to put in the work. You have to be willing to look past your front door, get out into the world, talk to people who aren't like you, and put out what you hope to receive.
These past few months have shaken me to my very core, and I have decided that I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change...but I am going to change the things I can no longer accept.
I cannot accept injustice—and I won't. I cannot accept inequality—and I won't. I cannot accept hate speech—and I won't. I cannot accept "alternative facts"—and I won't. I cannot keep quiet—and I won't.
(Originally published January 23, 2017)