A letter from our ever-enthusiastic back-page columnist
Hello future readers. I’ve been writing to you since late June. This is the hard part about magazine journalism. I’m waving to you from here in early summer while our friends at WFAE and Axios Charlotte wrote to you about five minutes ago. How’s it going over there? Has the wait time gotten shorter at Bird Pizzeria yet?
The political climate here in June is volatile, as we all know. The first presidential debate took place a few days ago, and many of us still can’t take our eyes off it. But what’s worse than this moment is thinking about what’s going to happen at the next one. I can’t imagine things will be any better when we return to you in September, because you’ve been through it. Party conventions, attack ads, hurricane season, and, wow, more debates. How are you all surviving?
I try not to talk about politics on this page. We hear enough about it elsewhere, and few of us want to know more. But as I write my column, “Good People Doing Quietly Kind Things,” politics can be a vehicle for change. We need the system to work at least a little. Even for those of us who are less partisan, politics still permeates our social media feeds and ruins family dinners. National campaigns have made their way to North Carolina, and our race has caused chaos in the country. It feels like we’re forced to swim in polluted waters.
At times like these, I worry that this column is taking itself too seriously, like a violin echoing on the deck of the tilting Titanic. I show my husband a draft and ask, “Am I taking myself too seriously?” Jimmy assures me that he takes himself too seriously, and that’s OK. But being too serious isn’t cool. Being serious isn’t sexy. No one says, “Hey, you need to read that writer who tries so hard to believe things.”
A book published this year helped ease my fears: Who’s Afraid of Gender?, by the brilliant philosopher and kind thinker Judith Butler. Butler suggests we stop engaging with people who debate in bad faith – people who ridicule or refute imaginary points that serious people have never actually made. “We don’t seem to be engaging in public debate at all,” Butler writes, “because there are no texts in the rooms, no agreement on terms, and the landscape in which critical thinking should flourish is saturated with fear and hatred.”
Instead of fueling vicious arguments, Butler suggests we imagine what it would be like if we were more accepting and supportive of one another. What if we painted a picture so vivid that it overwhelmed those we despise? What if we showed others a future that could happen instead of looking back at a past that didn’t happen?
That’s a lovely idea, and a very serious one.
But in this day and age when bad people are doing so much harm and speaking out, I still wonder if seriousness is enough, if this column is enough. How much anger do we need in this moment? How much hope? How much resistance? How much acceptance do we need? We are carrying so many conflicting emotions, it’s no wonder we feel exhausted. But I believe the worst outcome is that it makes us hardened, either to others or to our own sense of agency.
I gave two small suggestions here in June. The first is to avoid engaging with people who argue maliciously or have bad manners. This includes people who enjoy offending others with their words or social media posts. Engage with ideas, speak up for your beliefs, refute falsehoods, and please, vote! Life is too short to engage with people who try to deceive, ridicule, or offend. (This tip is especially applicable to you if you were born in September.)
The second is to be super lame. Paint a picture in your mind of how things will be. When you reach your breaking point while reading the news or having dinner with that old man, keep that imaginary picture close to you and channel that frustration into something productive. Is there anything you can do to bring your corner of the world a little closer to that picture?
Maybe in September we have it all figured out and are lounging together eating delicious pizza without a care in the world. But if not, do yourself a favor: paint your picture, and maybe add a brush or two to make it just a little more real.