I was born in a bubble.
As an upper-middle class, white heterosexual woman from the San Francisco Bay Area, I inherently believed the United States was good, diverse, empathetic and generous. I knew of injustice in the world, of course, but the U.S. was a place of progress. We would never allow ourselves to move backward.
Attending college in the Midwest began to corrode that idealistic view.
I couldn’t conceive of a place that didn’t recycle, where being homosexual wasn’t actually OK or where a Jewish person didn’t exist, yet I learned those places are far more widespread than the little ecosystem of my own Northern California home.
These are the places in which some of my friends live.
Nov. 8 burst open the sheltered mindset I’d retained for the 21 years of my life. Without my rose-colored glasses, the U.S. looks dark, ugly and hateful.
Hopelessness makes my mind spiral to images of desolate forests, spray-painted swastikas, little girls thinking they aren’t enough, and I’m left without direction.
So where do I go from here?
The author Parker Palmer discusses the idea of the tragic gap. Standing in the tragic gap means understanding that the world is imperfect but having the courage to pursue righteous acts, though they seem unachievable in one lifetime.
Essentially, it’s somewhere between cynicism and idealism.
Just as we cannot allow ourselves to become overwhelmed with the evils of the world, we cannot fool ourselves into thinking things will get better if we do nothing.
This gap is where Susan B. Anthony stood. It’s where Hillary Clinton has been standing her whole life. It’s where Americans must stand today.
Although it’s tempting, never again will I pursue life in a bubble. Living outside the bubble doesn’t mean I won’t still have an immense privilege through the world because of my skin color, sexual orientation and socioeconomic status. I simply mean I no longer wish to pretend the world will carry on just because my advantaged experiences tell me so.
Using the fuel of my fear with the knowledge that there are people ready to fight, I will not take the next four years lying down.
I choose to stand in the tragic gap. After all, it’s where the action lives.
naherman@umail.iu.edu
