Aaaand... I live in Oklahoma, "the Reddest State in the Nation" following the 2008 elections. We almost repeated our performance in the midterm elections last week, but Wyoming somehow managed to eke out a more Republican record. Barely. What's more, I am a member of largely conservative families, both the family that raised me and the family that allowed me to marry their lovely Em and has put up with me since. I am surrounded by conservatives - religious, political, social, and fiscal - which is why the next statements deserve their own space for emphasis:
I love them so much I can hardly stand it. I love the state of Oklahoma, and I love my conservative families.
This often surprises people, for some reason. Several of my fellow blue friends, even those who are somehow bound to Oklahoma by family or heritage, talk often of how they cannot wait to "escape." I understand their frustrations, and they frequently manage to speak quite eloquently about them. They want to be where they feel their voices are heard and their votes count. They don't expect everyone to agree with them, but they would like to be a part of a public conversation that isn't so one-sided.
One of my good friends, a professor at the university who happens to be a lesbian, is doing gender research in a particularly conservative part of the state. Those whom she interviews have no idea of her orientation since she neither publicizes it nor fits certain stereotypes. She regularly endures chauvinistic affronts and various insulting slurs for homosexuals from people who don't know her but feel comfortable using such vocabulary because they are certain everyone around them - including her - will tolerate it. For the sake of her research she has decided not to respond to the language, but she experiences every hateful word as deeply painful. She doesn't suffer from the delusion that there is any state or city where she could evade all potential offenses. She knows that there are misogynists and obnoxious people everywhere, but she has experienced something particular here that confounds her - that such language is common and overt. When I hear her describe these episodes I can sympathize with her and others who do not feel at home here.
I won't expand on a recent experience of a dear friend of mine who is Arab, other than to say he's had an interesting week since Oklahoma voted Yes on SQ 755. He's not Muslim, but he has had to endure the hate speech of fellow Oklahomans who interpret the color of his skin as a symbol of the caricature they have created to represent the Islamic faith.
Even our most recent gubernatorial debates, which should have been a celebration of the advancement of women in our state, momentarily devolved into clichés about traditional women's roles when one of the candidates used her status as a "family" woman with a husband and children to distance herself from her opponent who has never been married nor had any children. Perhaps she didn't mean her remarks to be as belittling and accusatory as they were taken, but many Oklahomans who supported her candidacy seized the opportunity to rumor that her opponent was a lesbian and therefore unworthy of the position of governor. Many supporters who were unwilling to spread the lesbian fabrication were nonetheless prepared to gossip that she must be an impossible woman to love. Why else wouldn't she have a man in her life? This, too, was enough to justify the conclusion that she was unqualified for the job.
I share these recent anecdotes not because I believe they are indicative of all Oklahomans. If I thought that were the case, I would not remain here either. I share them simply to illustrate the very real frustrations of those who have had a difficult time adjusting to what has become a common discourse which is, like it or not, associated with so-called Republican, Christian, and Oklahoman perspectives. I share them to articulate the experiences of those who do not fit into the not-so-hidden privileged demographic of white, English-speaking, heterosexual, Christian, and male, all the while knowing full well that I am exactly the kind of person who is privileged in our society. My level of frustration cannot compare to theirs.
But I'm still here, and will be for a long time to come, because I know another Oklahoma. To be sure, I am quite familiar with the political and religious Oklahoma of their oft-justified fears and irritations. I voted for Jari Askins. I voted No on 755. I voted Yes on 744. I voted No on 751. Almost nothing I voted for last Tuesday went my way. Barring an improbable paradigm shift, future votes are also unlikely to make me very happy. However, the results of these questions and elections are not the only identifying marks of Oklahoma. The xenophobic, fundamentalist, and chauvinistic voices are not the only ones here. This wonderful state is also full of kind hearts, clear heads, and welcoming people who know how to disagree without alienating one another.
I mentioned my family earlier. While I disagree with them on many political matters, and a few religious ones, I have never experienced them as anything but careful with their motives and words, and ready for a thoughtful conversation about anything. This is not to say that we ever come to agreement or that we never unintentionally hurt one another's feelings. Conversations sometimes end with a comma rather than a period, and once in a while pauses for the sake of emotions, but this is indication that we are talking with each other rather than about each other. I have yet to hear anyone in my immediate family say a hateful word about someone with whom they disagree.
But beyond conversations, I love the Oklahoma that I've written about before here. It's the Oklahoma of my collected experiences. It's Good News Club in grandma's living room, shucking corn on grandad's tailgate, playing the piano in church, shooting baskets in the driveway, sharing a room with my generous brother, watching my sister become an artist, falling in love with my wife, listening to my dad quote his favorite poems, hearing my mom pray for her family, enjoying nieces and nephews, going back to college, strengthening my marriage. It's the Oklahoma of neighbors and hay stacks, Friday night football and county fairs, small towns and volunteer fire departments. I'm always surprised by the one or two glimpses of painted buntings each year, and I'm blown away by the November perse of Winged Elms. I'm a sucker for the gradual transition from Ozark foothills to tallgrass prairie. I love those stretches of road that allow for a miles-long gaze in every direction, eyes moving over fields of corn and fresh cut alfalfa. I have to catch my breath every time I see a pasture full of buffalo. This is my home.
My hopes for Oklahoma have little to do with coming to a political agreement. (Though, if it were to become blue, or at least a little purple, relatively soon I wouldn't mind.) Rather, my hopes are that everyone would experience the same welcome, neighborliness, beauty and simplicity that I have been given all of my life. It doesn't seem impossible to imagine an Oklahoma where my Arab friends, as well as my friends who are actually Muslim, feel perfectly at ease. Nor is it difficult to imagine an Oklahoma where prejudiced epithets of any sort are not tolerated in public or behind closed doors. This isn't about apocalyptic visions of lions and lambs laying down or beating our swords into plowshares. This is something much less complicated. This is about an Oklahoma that is already alive and well but seems to be hidden from view at times.
I'm here for the long haul. This is my place. I hope we will be hospitable to any and all who cast their lot with us, regardless of our differences.
Wow, Riley. well said, my friend. Although I'm sure I fall into that part of the family that disagrees with your politics, I'm also sure I fall into that part of the family that loves you & is proud of you. What you wrote was so well said & really made me think. Thank you for that.
Jana! Thanks for reading and for sharing the kind thoughts. These issues are hard enough to discuss, but even more difficult to write about since there is just no way to include non-verbal communication. I often worry that my tone won't be clear, so your words are much appreciated. I hope you and yours are doing well.
I was honestly brought to tears as I read this. I have known for a long time that you veer a little, okay, more than a little, left of center. That's always been fine with me. I tend to drift into that lane more often than the other one myself. As hard as it is for some to hear, sometimes the lane left of center seems more American. That is, if you are talking about those things that mean America to me. Things like freedom and acceptance and welcome. So, it wasn't necessarily the content of your post that moved me. (although it did) I was absolutely touched by the maturity in your approach and the softness that only intense love can bring to the debate. You stir my thoughts. You gouge my conscience. You push me out of my safe world and force me to see more. You make me believe that one person does make a difference. Love you.
Verla, you are one of my favorite people. Thanks for always being such an encouragement! While I'm writing these things, I sometimes imagine you reading. So I stop, re-word, re-think, and re-consider not just what I say but how I attempt to say it. Your comments are always kind, and I love reading them, but they are also far more helpful than you probably realize.
This last election was tough for me, and I can't quite put my finger on why. I think it had a lot more to do with the state questions than the office holders. People move in and out of offices with relatively little impact, but these amendments and legal statues cast long shadows. Anyway, food for more thought, I suppose. Not sure what the impact will be at this point.
Love you back!
For as long as I've been in the family, you've challenged me (whether you knew it or not) to think about WHY I believe certain things, think certain things, want certain things. We may not always be on the exact same page, but I think our books are from the same library, at least. ;) I can tell you that there are few people who actually get into my brain and make me decide what I'm going to be about and why. That's one of the biggest compliments I can give. Love ya, bro.
Beautifully written Riley. I find myself exactly where you are many times. In the heart of the South, in Georgia, where everyone in a small town seems to think everyone thinks the way they do (or should anyway). I simply smile when I hear all the gospel "heard on the internet" about how this President is an operative for Islam... blah, blah, blah. Unlike you, I've made it a point not to have discussions with my family regarding politics and social issues as nothing can be gained. We agree to disagree, hopefully with respect. I did, however, have to send my husband's 80 year old aunt an email (or two) begging her to cease and desist with all the anti-Democrat/Obama emails. She ended up taking us off her email all together. Oh well...
Thank you for the nod to Jasper Johns. I love him. I love you more.