Protesting Injustice

OK, I’m wading in. I am a veteran of the United States Armed Forces and I say it’s no insult to me or to my service if a football player takes a knee during the National Anthem.

Let’s say I want to go down to the corner and protest Big Bank’s dealings with the King of Belgium. Who’s to say what form my protest has to take? I’ll stand on my head! That’ll tell ’em, yeah! There’s no law against standing on my head. There’s also no law that says you have to stand during the National Anthem. (Be careful if you look that up. There’s a lot of false information out there.) I may have to explain what my protest means, of course, if I want it to impress anyone. The knee-takers have done that from the outset, but not everyone listens. I really don’t care about football except when the Broncos are in the Superbowl, but the player who started this brawl spoke very clearly about why he did it.

“I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people, and people of color,” Kaepernick said in a press conference after first sitting out during the anthem. “To me, this is bigger than football, and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street, and people getting paid leave, and getting away with murder.”
    nfl.com/news

There is nothing unclear about that statement. To those who dislike it, I ask, “Is he wrong?” Is that oppression he speaks of a myth? Is justice equally applied to all in our Land of the Free? Think hard. If there is widespread injustice, should it be allowed to persist without comment, without concern, without protest, without anybody doing anything? Here’s one answer:

The General cites Charlottesville, and Ferguson, and the NFL as backdrop. Each one of those incidents is complex on its own merits, and each pertains to the problem in a different way. What they have in common, though, is that they are connected to the same thread of injustice. It is justice that America needs, justice for all.

fans waiting for the gameI stand for the National Anthem. I think it would be good if everyone did. It’s a fine custom and courtesy. Yet I can understand it when people do not. Now we have entire teams linking arms, standing or kneeling, and their protest is said to be a show of unity. Whether it is unity with the original protest about oppression and injustice, or unity in opposition to those who don’t like the original protest and continue to bluster and make threats about it, I can’t say. That hardly even matters at this point.

The guy who started this protest said what it was about. He does not have pride in America, and he says it. He also says why. He does not show respect. How many times have you and I been reminded that respect must be earned? (Answer: Many.) What will it take for this respect to be earned? (Answer: ___________ )

January

I can’t write this month. Here is a news item from Bulgaria:

US Embassy in Bulgaria: No Visa Interviews for Citizens of 7 Countries in Trump’s Executive Order

Business | January 30, 2017
Bulgaria: US Embassy in Bulgaria: No Visa Interviews for Citizens of 7 Countries in Trump's Executive Order BGNES

The American Embassy in Sofia has published a special announcement calling on the citizens of Iraq, Iran, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria and Yemen or persons who have dual citizenship of these countries not to schedule visa interviews and not to pay any taxes [fees] related to such interviews.

The reason is the executive order of US President Donald Trump related to the issue of visas for citizens of these seven countries.

— from novinite.bg

That’s all.

OK, well, I’ll say this. There are so many articles being written about Trump’s executive order on immigration, “Protecting the Nation from Foreign Terrorist Entry into the United States” both attacking it and defending it, that the din is deafening. Moreover, so many adherents of each opposing view (as if there were only two sides) see only their (our) own preferred view, excluding any other view except to treat it with cynicism and mockery. That’s a damn shame. Can we do better in listening to “the other?” Fight like hell for what you believe in. Volunteer. Advocate. Work for the good as you perceive it. But be sure the good as you perceive it is not screaming so loudly that you cannot hear anything else.

There’s no need to point you to the published articles I’m referring to, for and against; you’ve probably read and liked as many of your favorite kind, and read and hated as many of the other kind, as I have. Well, maybe just one. This one.

Discuss.

Going Back

We’re going back! Toward the end of October. It’s just for a week, but it will be the first time Stormy and I will have returned to Bulgaria since we went back to celebrate at The Ball in 2004. Memories rush back as we think of what it was like when we were there, and we’re looking forward to seeing some of the people we knew. There is a little trepidation as well. We’re twelve years older now for one thing, maybe a bit slower, and the resilience we relied on as volunteers may have ossified a little. Bulgaria will have changed too; we hope we’ll still be able to get around with what remains of our old familiarity. The language we learned has been packed away like an old souvenir up on a high shelf in the spare bedroom closet. There are Bulgarian phrases and random words that rattle around in my head from time to time, but they’re not much more than in a tourist phrasebook. Still, it’s exciting to be traveling to that place that means so much to us.

As a side benefit, it will be a respite from the yammering back-and-forth cynicism and hateful diatribes of our current political process (though don’t get me wrong our democracy is perfect and a model for the world and we should export it everywhere even if by force oops no I mean be a shining example of how a country should be governed). I hope the subject won’t come up. I do recall, though, how I was mercilessly held to account for U.S. foreign policy in 2003 by my eleventh-graders and by strangers on the street, about the events broadcast on BTV and CNN, red and white and orange flashes in the dark sky and American soldiers pulling down statues of Saddam Hussein while Iraqi fighters shed their uniforms on the run and melted into the night. It was the first-ever American preemptive strike, setting the “America will never” bedrock military principle afire and leaving it to smolder in the ruins of another country. They thought we were doing it for oil. Our country, in the eyes of the old-line European countries with so many more centuries behind them, was looked upon as a two-year-old having a tantrum. A two-year-old with bombs.

Lady Liberty Crying

From friend Chasen’s Facebook page. I don’t know where he found it.

One might have thought we would have grown up as a country since then, having been through such perilous times and so many challenges. I wrote last month about the severe divisions we Americans are feeling these days as our elections approach; drawing closer to November the acrimony has only intensified. Looking at the picture of Lady Liberty, I know that many of my friends will have different ideas about why she’s crying. I hope to put it aside for a while, or if I can’t do that I might find a new perspective.

As in our own beautiful country, Bulgaria has lots of beautiful places that we enjoyed while we were working there, with mountains and seashore, forests and fascinating cities, towns and villages. As it is with life wherever we find ourselves, it was the people — the real human contact — that made it so great to be there. We’re looking forward to seeing our Bulgarian family, school colleagues, former students and neighbors, who made such a difference in our lives with their open and generous spirit.

We won’t get to see everyone, of course. My former students are scattered all over now, in their professional and family lives all over the world. People move on, and some will never cross our paths again. I remember so fondly the brash young guy in my classroom, who later apologized on behalf of himself and his classmates for giving me such a hard time (he said they called it climbing on my head). He was the one who set our goal of coming back for the Graduation Ball. Warm memories, forever locked in time. His name was Georgi. Our hearts were touched, time and time again, right up to the day we left.

A little after midnight, we said our goodbyes. One of my students, Maria, gave me a little slip of paper from her family’s Easter bread, with Kusmet, Good Luck, written on it. She wrote her name on the back, with her class number and “I won’t forget you.”
     — Breeze, p. 337

I still have that little slip of paper in my wallet.