American Politics: Whatever Happened to Class?

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There’s a song in the musical Chicago called “Class.” It’s a comedic lamentation performed in earnest by the characters, Velma Kelly and Matron “Mama” Morton bemoaning society’s loss of decorum and manners.

 

The fact that Velma is in jail for murder and “Mama” is the warden who will scratch your back if you scratch hers makes the song even funnier.

 

These are not paragons of society. They are a murderer and an extortionist, respectively. Yet there they are singing:

“Whatever happened to fair dealing? And pure ethics? And nice manners?”

This musical’s story was originally set in the 1920s, but truly, the action could be any time. The lack of respect for others and the deplorable behavior that these two characters are lamenting has never been timelier than right now.

 

In the current political reality show that is American politics—more tragedy than comedy—there is no class on the side of the Republican Party. Most of its members have crossed over to the dark side and should consider renaming themselves the MAGA Party. But I’ll just call them MAGA Republicans for now.

 

The de facto leader of the MAGA Republicans, those Fox-News-watching conservatives, most of whom also consider themselves Christians, is the wolf in sheep’s clothing that my Sunday School teacher warned me about.

He masquerades as a conservative man, a Christian, a savior trying to Make America Great Again, all while stoking the fears associated with Other and Different. He’s a dangerous man. Willing, without compunction, to lie to his followers in order to incite the desired reactions: fear and anger. He’s a revenge-threatening bully; a narcissist with hateful tendencies as ugly as his combover. And the speeches he gives at his rallies and press conferences often make no sense. There isn’t enough money in the Federal Reserve to buy this man class.

 

He has no desire to be courteous. His followers wouldn’t stand for it anyway. He, and they, only want him to be as nasty and politically incorrect as he can. The MAGA Republicans thrive on meals of mockery and disrespect, leaving the table satiated with ignorance. And blissfully happy. They have no desire to seek the truth, believing without hesitation—unquestioning—just as I was taught to do in the pews of the Baptist churches of my childhood. And if they happen to discover the lies aren’t true, they don't apologize for sharing and promoting the lies. Nor do they share the actual truth.

I recently watched John McCain’s concession speech from when he lost the presidential election to Barack Obama in 2008. The man held up his hands to stop those who supported him, disappointed by his loss, from booing as he began the speech. He didn’t speak negatively against Barack Obama. He commended him for “his ability and perseverance.” And admired him for “inspiring the hopes of so many millions of Americans.” He acknowledged the two had differences and that those differences would probably remain, but he pledged his support for the newly elected president and encouraged his supporters to do so as well.

 

A speech that started with booing ended in applause. It was a time when it seems Republicans and Democrats could negotiate their differences, find a compromise, shake hands across the aisle, work together.

That was 2008.

Now we have a fool that purposefully mispronounces the name of the woman running against him for the office of president. And his MAGA followers eat it up.

Sixteen years later, we are in the shadow of a would-be dictator. In two Obama terms and their subsequent years, how did we get here? In sixteen years, how did decades of political civility turn into January 6, 2020? How did it turn into the least productive Congress in our country’s history? How did it turn into name calling and demands for loyalty? How did it turn into such a deeply divided Us vs Them?

A friend once told me that Newt Gingrich, as Speaker of the House, was the man who used his power to inject divisive division into the Party line, cracking it by telling his Republican colleagues to treat their Democrat co-workers as the enemy and to have no dealings with them outside of work. Did it start there in the late 90s? How was that good for the country? For the People?

Back to the grifting shyster who has risen to power as the leader of the MAGA Republicans. He likes to hurl accusatory barbs at the other side, accusing them—us—of doing the very things that he and his followers are actually doing. He demonizes Democrats, Black people, Hispanic people, science, women, democracy, facts, truth. And let’s not forget how he mocked the disabled and veterans. He is concerned with his own power, not with the good of the country.

As for the elected officials who have brown on their faces because their heads are so far up his ass—Marjorie Taylor-Greene, Lauren Boebert, Matt Gaetz, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, Tom Cotton, Josh Hawley, Lindsey Graham (to name a few)—they worship at his feet, forgetting all about the first of the Ten Commandments in the Holy Bible, a book they claim to revere above all others: “Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me.”

I don’t get it. I’m dumbfounded that we are here. I shake my head in disbelief. I continue to wonder how this happened. I no longer trust an American populace that could and would elect Donald Trump. Or any of the above mentioned senators and representatives. They are fucking with too many lives. For what? So women can’t get abortions? So gay people can’t get married? So trans people can’t get the medical care they need or use the goddamn bathroom that goes with their gender identity?

(Side note: No one is coming for their churches. Their right to pray. Or their Bible. Although in the 2024, maybe the Bible should be the top challenged book to be banned instead of Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe. But I digress.)

I leave the last word to “Mama”:

“Jesus Christ, ain’t there no decency left?”

Struggling To Transcend The Darkness

Yesterday was a dark day for me. Nothing in particular happened to cause the darkness. Unless, of course, you count the state of the country.

I woke up. I made coffee. I drank the coffee. I read Vogue. I was in a pretty good mood. I even decided to be bold with my eye make up: dark purpled-gray on the lids and a smudgy stroke underneath.

Without even knowing why, I just felt dark. I wore mostly black. And with the salt of white in my beard and the dark eyes, I had a vision of what it would all look like and it came together in reality with as much perfection.

The darkness of the outward soon seeped inward.

I asked a question and participated in a discussion about politics: Mr. Trump's Executive Orders, Senate confirmation hearings, Democrats stalling just to be vindictive or because they had legitimate concerns.

During the discussion I listened but couldn't help but feel like the kid sitting in Geometry class, not understanding, finally raising his hand to ask a question, and hearing the snickers of the students around him making him feel even more stupid because now they know he doesn't understand.

I know that these are my own self-imposed feelings of ignorance. I also know that my dread of each new move by the Trump Administration on the chess board that is our country's political game is real. I know that I shouldn't live in fear. But knowing and doing are two different things. I'm trying to understand. I'm trying to have faith. Both are equally difficult for me to do.

I couldn't shake the feelings of dimness that took hold of me yesterday. I tried to engage in other conversations. I felt the people around me working overtime to lift the mood in the room. I couldn't do it for myself, and they couldn't do it for me. I had spiraled down the rabbit hole where even Alice kept her distance. Too much darkness. I was alone. I finally realized the best course of action for me, and everyone around me, was to remove myself from the situation.

Later in the evening I took to Twitter. Searching what was trending led to a Trump related hashtag. I knew I shouldn't click on it but click on it I did. Three tweets in I saw the word "libtard." That's the word that I've noticed more and more from the Right since the election results knocked the air out the Left. It's a hateful word; demeaning.

I wasn't sure it was possible, but the darkness got even darker. I forced myself to close my Twitter app and then forced myself to delete the app from my iPhone.

We're living in a divided time right now. I am honestly trying to understand how the other side feels. I saw the progress that happened during the Obama Administration. However, I'm trying to understand how what I considered progress was not considered progress by Obama haters. It's so difficult to see another's point of view when that point of view at no point has even a hint of aligning with yours.

I can't understand why my being protected, as a gay man, causes so many such discomfort. I don't remember what I felt more of when the Supreme Court ruled on Equality in 2015. Was it relief? (I certainly was relieved. And shocked. I wept.) Or was superiority that people in a country so superiorly Christian would finally have to accept the Separation of Church and State? (I felt that too.) Of course, that ruling inevitably led to Religious Freedom bills being submitted over many parts of the country.

Fear and hate continue to be carefully taught. And they're thriving. They're thriving equally among the Right and the Left: two sides within the same country so divided that we can't even be civil with one another.

I continue to fight my fear and to try not to hate people who might hate me for the way I was born.

I know that I'm supported by some but don't feel that I'm supported by those from whom I'm longing to be held.

As I made my exit yesterday with Charlie Brown's rain cloud firmly secured above my head I said, "The next time I see you I'll try to be more pink."

Today I am trying to combat the darkness with pink. It's light-hearted. It's revitalizing. It lifts my spirits.

I can't watch the news. I can't read my Twitter feed. I don't even want to look at the headlines on Huffington Post. If I do any of those things the brightness will begin to drain from the pink. And if that happens all I'll be left with is the dingy brown of a watery puddle. And that's just one step away from the darkness, over which I'm struggling to transcend.

Religion and Politics: A Combustible Concoction

This piece also appears on Huffington Post Religion.

In the 80s, I remember my preacher at the time warning the congregation of Madalyn Murray O’Hair and her attempt to get all references to God removed from public schools. I remember the word atheist being bandied about, as in “Madalyn Murray O’Hair is an atheist, pass it on.” What that told me was she didn’t believe in God, and not believing in God was a ticket straight to Hell. I remember us as a congregation praying she wouldn’t succeed in her quest. I was a child: naive about compromise, unquestioning the reasons, simply following along. That makes sense to me even as I think about it now. The pastor of the church is the Shepard and the congregation is the flock of sheep. We listened to our leader, and did what he said. People still do it to this day.  

I’m not suggesting that I agree with what Ms. O’Hair wanted. My normal is saying, “One nation under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance and seeing “In God We Trust” on my money. That’s because I believe in God; the Christian God. What I am suggesting is that no one should be made to pray to or believe in a deity that is different from their actual beliefs. This creates a sticky situation in our politically correct times of trying to please everyone. We’ll never be able to do that. 

America is a country founded on freedom. That includes religious freedom--freedom of religion and freedom from religion. That means we all have the right to believe or not believe if we so choose. Why then is the line separating Church and State increasingly blurred? When I read of the proposed bill to create a state religion in North Carolina I was momentarily speechless. But only momentarily. The idea of declaring a state or national religion has been churning in my brain almost every day since.

The reason for the drafting of that bill was to address a lawsuit filed by the ACLU in North Carolina’s Rowan County. The lawsuit was filed against the county commission to attempt to block the commission from starting its meetings with a Christian prayer. The key word here is Christian. Maybe it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but what if you serve on the commission and you’re Muslim, Jewish, or Atheist? You don’t believe in the Christian God? Should you be subjected to that prayer? It’s an honest question. Should a verbal prayer be removed from the beginning of the meeting, perhaps replaced with a moment of silent prayer? Should the prayer be removed altogether? What if that prayer made those non Christians on the commission uncomfortable? Does that matter to anyone?

The bill was killed in the North Carolina House of Representatives. That’s good news for a country with such a diverse religious canvas. One religion should never be chosen as superior above all others.

The Establishment Clause followed by the Free Exercise Clause that appear in the First Amendment to the United States Constitution states: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof...” 

Believing in God is a personal choice. One should be able to display it or not. Much the same as there are people who don’t feel comfortable with public displays of affection, there are people who don’t feel comfortable participating in public displays of religious beliefs. 

Everyone knows that religion and politics are two topics to avoid discussing at a dinner party. If you want to clear the room, ask a question involving one of them. You’ll either have a heated discussion on your hands followed by storm-outs or you’ll have a quiet exodus of those who suddenly have somewhere else to be. Either way, you’ll be left to clear the half empty wine glasses to the kitchen. 

Just because people don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean they don’t believe in God or a higher power. It means that it is a personal choice and something they honor in private. And before you start asking how I can profess to believe in God and not stand behind a national religion I’ll tell you: I’m trying to put myself in someone else’s shoes. I’m trying to imagine how I would feel if I didn’t follow the beliefs of the proposed religion of Christianity. I’m trying to live in the gray area instead of the black and white of “my way or the highway.” Some days I feel this country is so divided that we’ve forgotten compromise is more than a word. It’s an action. I’m guilty of it myself.

As a gay man who finds many organized religions less than welcoming to my community, I question what a national religion would change in our country; how a national religion would redefine the already thinning line separating Church and State. I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. I also know that those who oppose my views may criticize me as too liberal or too far left; possibly even morally bankrupt because I’m a gay man. To each his own. My relationship with God is mine and as Matthew 7:1 says, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.”

We have the privilege of choice here in America. We don’t have to follow any one dogma or doctrine, and politics has no business in the middle of it.