On the Day After the 2018 Election

The temptation to engage with politics as political theater, to see oneself as primarily a spectator in the political process, is strong. And we’re encouraged to do so by moneyed interests and the media they control. I know that at times I've succumbed to that temptation—and that those times have felt significantly less empowering than have the times when I've been engaged in pursuing my heartfelt mission and vision of a different, more compassionate community and world.

In many ways, elections are to politics what Christmas and Easter services are to Christian churches. They bring out a lot of people we never see at other times. But if enough of the people we see a lot do enough planning and preparation that what’s on offer at those big events is compelling, there’s a good chance we’ll see some of those new faces again. Which is, today (given the narrow scope of the electoral offerings, and the much broader scope of the individual and collective efforts toward transformation I've seen and been part of), both a sobering and a hopeful thought.

Gauging the success of organizing and coalition-building work by electoral success is a case of measuring things that can be measured because we can measure them. The things elections measure best are not the things we’re most interested in changing: hearts, minds, understanding of the interdependent nature of our existence in this place and on this planet. Working to transform those things is the kind of life-giving activity that springs from a much deeper well of passion and purpose, and that has always been UCM's primary work.

I was reading, in the November 2018 issue of The Sun, an interview with Stacy Mitchell, a thoughtful critic of big-box-store economies and monopolistic online retailers like Amazon, and she made a powerful point about the impact of those institutions on the fabric of our communities and our propensity for civic engagement: “Economic relationships often involve other types of relationships, too. When you shop at a small business, you’re dealing with your neighbors. You’re buying from someone whose kids go to school with your kids. That matters for the health of communities. . . . The true value of having a vibrant local economy isn’t just in the bottom line of small businesses and the specific jobs they create. It’s also the notion that place matters. A community can nurture active citizens and help people realize their dreams and potential.” This sounds a lot like the Athens community I know—people who are connected and empowered by the multifaceted relationships they have with one another, and who carry that empowerment into the public and political spheres to drive real social innovation, inclusion, and transformation.

Today is a good day to breathe, to visit, to share a coffee or other beverage with a friend and comrade, and to reflect on the transformative work your relationship is doing in each of your lives. I know my relationships with the folks I’ve been working with for the last two years have changed me in deep and lasting ways. And for that, today I’m giving thanks and praise.

And in case you still need a little quantitative validation of the transformative work you've been throwing your heart and soul into all election season, I offer these significant milestones, shared by our friends at Equitas:

Shattering the previous record, at least 114 women won statewide or federal seats across the country—including 94 US House seats, 12 US Senate seats, and 8 Governorships. These women include a number of firsts: the country’s first Muslim and first Native American women elected to Congress, the youngest women elected to Congress, Massachusetts’ first black congresswoman, the first woman Governor of Guam, and the first two Latina congresswomen from Texas.   Colorado elected the country’s first openly gay Governor. In statehouses across the country 129 LGBTQ state legislators will soon take office—including Ohio’s own Senator-Elect Nickie Antonio, who will be the state’s first openly LGBTQ State Senator.

 Shift happens. Thanks for helping it along.

On the Pittsburgh Synagogue Shooting

Rev. Evan Young, Campus Minister

Like you, I am horror-struck by the synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh this past weekend. Heart-sick, dismayed that such a thing happened, could happen, anywhere in this country but particularly in a city and community I’ve visited and loved, where people I know and love are reeling and hurting and grieving together. The impact of such a thing happening in a place of worship that serves as sanctuary and community center is beyond my power to imagine. And that all I have to offer is my sympathy seems very weak tea indeed.

There’s a temptation hiding in my response to this tragedy. I’ve heard it voiced about this tragedy, and about others as well; maybe you have too. It sounds like this: “This isn’t who we are. This doesn’t represent our community. We’re better than this.”

I understand the sentiment. I’ve shared it. I’ve said these words. But right now, in the wake of this latest act of terrorism, I’m coming to grips with its essential dishonesty. Because in fact, this is precisely who we are—who, in this historical and cultural moment, we have become.

I believe in community writ large. I believe the shooting at Tree of Life synagogue is not something that happened to that faith community, or to the community of Pittsburgh, or to the Jewish community. I believe it’s something that happened to (and in) my community—and yours. Because we’re all connected, because we’re interdependent, because the quality of community each of us enjoys depends on the quality of community all of us create.

And the fact is that the community we have all participated in creating is one in which bigotry can thrive. In our America today, it thrives to the point where bigots feel empowered to make their bigotry concrete and real in acts of violence—acts directed against people of color, against Jewish people, against LGBTQ+ people, against Muslims, against immigrants.

In a community where this is true, it’s not enough to simply be someone who doesn’t perpetrate those acts, doesn’t hold those beliefs, doesn’t say those things. It’s not enough to feel bad for the victims of those violent words and deeds, to send them thoughts and prayers, to long for a better time past or future. When we say we “stand with,” we must mean that we “act with,” and “advocate for,” those among us who are suffering. And that we “engage with,” and “differ with,” and disrupt the empowerment of those who would, and do, oppress through their power and privilege and bias.

When I talk about resistance, this is what I mean. Not resisting the rule of a politician, or a party, with whom I disagree. My resistance is about resisting—and confronting, and combating—ideas and actions and worldviews that presume humanity is rightly divided into a favored “us” and a disfavored, less-than-human “them” upon whom the favored can practice all manner of oppression. That’s what the gunman did this weekend; that’s what the pipe-bomb-mailer has been doing; that’s what “proud boys” all over the country are doing; that’s what our nationalist-in-chief is advocating when he proclaims himself a nationalist. And my resistance to what they’re all doing springs from a deeper well than my political affiliation. It springs from my faith, from the way I understand our participation in a larger whole of which we are part, on which we depend, and for the well-being of which we are therefore obliged to work.

Resistance like this is ultimately an act of faith, one that requires us to start where we really are and move toward a better, wholer, holier vision. It means embracing the possibility that this is, in fact, who we now are—however horrifying that prospect might be. And then throwing your body and soul into moving us all in the direction of the community we could be, because to do less would be to deny who you are, and whose you are.

On "trans*"

This week began with news of an ongoing effort within the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services to roll back recognition of and protection for trans* people under federal civil rights law, by defining "sex" as either male or female (i.e., binary), unchangeable, and determined by the genitals a person is born with. According to a New York Times story published on October 21, the Department specified their proposed redefinition in a memo drafted this spring and circulated since then: "Sex means a person's status as male or female based on immutable biological traits identifiable by or before birth. . . . The sex listed on a person's birth certificate, as originally issued, shall constitute definitive proof of a person's sex unless rebutted by reliable genetic evidence." 

To put it as clearly as possible: we at UCM believe this is wrong. And hateful. And hurtful. And we will neither accept, nor support, nor comply with it. Trans* friends, we see you, we welcome you, and we affirm, support, and defend your right to be fully and fearlessly who you are. For us this is a moral, ethical, and spiritual commitment that goes beyond politics. And we deplore both the dehumanizing intent and effect of this proposed move, and the cynical use of gender identity as a political wedge issue to manipulate voting blocs. Good people don't treat real people this way. And we're here for everything that will make this better.

On the Approaching Election
Rev. Evan Young, Executive Director

In this election season, there's something I want to make sure to say to you.

Voting is highly recommended. 

Not because it's the be-all and end-all of participatory democracy, not because it's some panacea that holds out the promise of curing all our nation's ills. I'm well aware of the significant flaws in our democratic process, as currently practiced. Well aware of the interests it weights too heavily, well aware of the interests it excludes from the conversation, well aware of the corrosive influence of money and its erosion of the power of our representative democracy to . . . well, represent.

I still highly recommend that you vote. Because it's a gateway activity to the kind of engagement and activism for social justice out of which real change can emerge. Take the time to become educated about the choices on offer in this election season--both candidates and issues. Let your research stimulate questions and lead you into reflection on the world we have, the world you want to see, and what it's worth to you to take action to move us in the direction of your vision. Let your reflection lead you into action, collaboration, and deeper, more interdependent relationship with people who share your vision (or who embrace a vision you had never imagined before that fills you with hope for the future). 

Voting is the low bar, the entry point, the first step on the path toward engaged, informed, contributing citizenship in our community, our nation, the world. So do it. And be advised--since our current leaders are invested in limiting access to the means of participation (i.e., voting) particularly in strongly liberal/progressive areas (like Athens), you should take advantage of the opportunity to cast your vote early (for days, times, and locations click here). Avoid long lines and make sure your vote is cast, recorded, and counted. And then . . . get to work.