Blue Notes from a Red Zone

Blessed are the Merciful

Last week I spent several evenings speaking to various public groups on social justice issues. It's something I do all the time, and rarely give it a thought. The routine practice is that I am invited by some civic, political or faith-based group to speak on an issue that has caught the attention of the membership. Some of the folks there are interested in my topic, some want eagerly to help, and others are indifferent. A few, the radio announcers of the world, are hostile, but then they are paid to be "controversial."

Monday night, however, was a different story. I was not talking to a self-selected crowd of persons engaged in civic endeavors in one way or another. I was talking to a "town hall" meeting comprised of members of the general public. Much has been made of the bitterness and anger felt by the "Christian" right, and I've nodded and wondered what lay beneath it. For the first time, however, I really felt it. It is terrifying.

Looking out over the crowd, I saw well over a hundred well-dressed men and women, most of whom were middle-aged, and all of whom seemed comfortably well off. They have every reason to be satisfied. They live in a right-wing community, governed according to their tastes. Taxes are at the lowest possible given state law (which means they are extremely low), governmental regulation in the form of sign laws, set-backs, tree ordnances, etc., is non-existent, not a dime is spent on social services. The schools produce FCAT scores that are the highest in Florida, with meager per capita funding. Churches crowd every street. Diversity is held to a minimum. From my point of view, this must be right-wing paradise.

Obviously, I am wrong. These people are filled with rage. They trembled with anger when I spoke compassionately about people who are barely getting by. When I spoke of how our homeless are sleeping in bathroom stalls and stair risers in the churches that open, because there is not enough room to meet the need, men rose up shouting that the solution was to not open the church doors at all, but to leave the homeless in the cold and hope they froze to death.

In the past, I have wondered at the persecution complex of many in the far right. Until recently, they have controlled both houses of Congress, the Presidency, the Supreme Court, the media, major corporations. It couldn't be the "Establishment" trying to crucify them - they are the establishment.

To my shock, I realized that according to their lights, I was the persecutor. Every time I spoke of families broken by domestic violence, I was throwing an insult to their way of life. When I talked about giving a 13-year-old homeless girl the first coat she had ever had, I cracked the mortar holding their world together. By talking of families that had fallen into the underclass, I was pointing out the tenuousness of their hold on the middle class. Most of these families have little savings and great debt, and their house is built on sand.

From my liberal point of view, the anger should be directed not at the people who cannot harm them at all, but the people who are actively causing them harm. The corporations who outsource jobs rather than pay living wages, the government that raises interest rates on student loans and restrict Pell grants, the insurance companies that devote enormous resources to avoiding providing the services for which they are contractually obligated.

But it doesn't work that way, because the corrupt CEOs, the government bureaucrats and the lobbyists are not real to those of us living on the outskirts of the country. They come across as figures of authority, to be admired for their achievements, even when the achievements come at the expense of those providing the admiration. They are abstract constructs, revered by a patriarchal society.

The poor, however, are very real. We trip over them on the sidewalks. We barely miss them with our cars when we belatedly notice them walking along the side of the road at night. They sit in our parks, and look mournful and hopeless as they cluster in groups near the library. They provide a living reproach, and a terrifying example. They take nothing from us, but our assurance that the world is a safe and forgiving place.

The next night I spoke to a wholly different group, one that was eager to work on behalf of others. The stress of the previous night was washed away for a bit. But, like the tide, it will return. But perhaps, better clarity and experience will provide a more effective response.

On a personal note - I am leaving my employer of the last 10 years, and setting up the Homeless Continuum of Care as a viable, independent organization. I have been raising funds for three different non-profits, and it was becoming too confusing even for me. Thus, I have resigned from the large company that can get by without me, and dedicating myself to the causes where I fill a critical need. It feels a lot like jumping off a cliff, but fortunately I seem to have a lot of people ready to make certain I've got a safety net somewhere at the bottom.

posted by Lenore Wilson @ 8:38 PM