I’ve been pretty upset since we found out that Donald Trump
will be our next president. It’s a terrifying thought for me—and I’m a white
male, a member of a demographic that he never specifically targeted. I’m upset
about the environmental consequences of this election, the social, racial, and
religious ramifications, and the economic repercussions. Every time I see the
word “President-elect” preceding his name, it stings.
Right now, I’m still in the phase of resisting despair. But
I would like to soon move into a new phase: one defined by hope. I know that,
for many, this is a hard concept to embrace. And I understand that. But I think
that, at some point, we must do so.
In conjunction with nurturing hope, we need to think about
the tangible actions that we should take to move forward. I think this is
especially important in discussing how we can start to bridge the urban-rural
divide. Most of white, rural America voted for Donald Trump, overwhelmingly so
in some areas. Having grown up in one of these areas, I know that many of those
people, while I disagree vehemently with them politically, are kind and caring.
Many of them would drop anything in order to help me, if I needed the help. Of
course, I understand that their eagerness to help me could be influenced by the
fact that I look like them. But I genuinely believe that, though many rural
Americans supported a candidate who symbolizes racism, xenophobia, bigotry, and
sexism, they themselves do not always share those tendencies.
I also realize that people in these areas are often less
progressive because they have not been exposed to diversity, to a life outside
of the one that they live. What they hear about urban areas is often what they
see on the nightly news. And as we all know, the news is often filled with its
fair share of negativity. Rural America struggles to understand issues of race
and religious differences because they often do not have the opportunity—whether
this lack of opportunity is intentional or unintentional—to engage in dialogue
with people who have different life experiences. This lack of interaction leads
to misunderstanding, and it makes empathy more difficult.
At the same time, people in rural areas are often
misunderstood by people who live in cities. I know of people who are really,
really struggling. They battle hunger and unemployment, low wages and subpar
education, just as many urban people do. They feel like they are being left behind.
They feel misunderstood.
The tangible action that I think needs to occur alongside
the presence of hope is this: we have to find a way to put these groups in
dialogue with one another. We have to help people in rural areas better understand
issues like systemic racism. We have to help people in urban areas better
understand what it’s like to lose your farm to the bank. We need empathy.
How do we get there? I’m not sure. Maybe we could send
children on field trips to urban or rural areas. Maybe we could bring more
diverse speakers into small towns and big cities. Maybe we, as individuals,
just need to be more intentional about how we interact with those who are
different from us. I don’t know how we move forward. But I know that must try
to do so.
On a final note, I hope that this post does not appear to be
overly optimistic or inconsiderate of the damages that this election has dealt.
I’m sensitive to that. And I know that creating more dialogue and empathy alone
will not solve all of our issues. I just need to start thinking about hope and
progress. Though I’m doing it now, I can’t sit in this despair forever.
I am from a pretty rural town just outside of Shelby County called Atoka. Whenever I drive from my house into a town to go to the store or drive my Granny to church, I pass by a sign that says "Repeal Islamacare." There are people who I grew up with in school who still think Obama is a Muslim or Hillary Clinton is Satan on Earth. I'm often flabbergasted by what I see and hear when I make time to go back home.
ReplyDeleteIn the minds of many in rural America, the word Liberal is a dirty immoral word and being P.C. is on par on being un-American. There seems to be this stark divide between those that live in rural America and the cities and it has been augmented by the news and whatever else. People cloister themselves off to only those that say the same things and listen to only those who they know or those who say things that they wanna here.
It saddens me, but I don't know if there is a proper solution to it. You mentioned the idea of providing field trips to rural places, but even then some might argue you're trying to force some sort of society or social order that those in the rural U.S. are acutely opposed.
Thanks for your reflection, Brooks. I, too, would like to move past the hopelessness that I feel to action. I'm still trying to understand the separation of morality and politics that was allowed for Trump by his supporters. Trump supporters often remark that they don't agree with his -ist/-ic comments, but they support his policies/politics or what he stands for. However, for Trump supporters, Clinton's morality was integral to her politics. Clinton's emails made her an illegitimate candidate. Why were Trump's morality and politics allowed to be separated but Clinton's were not?
ReplyDeleteEver since the election, I have been struggling with a similar sentiment to the one you expressed here, Brooks. I believe that the answer lies in improving education to strengthen the American public's collective critical reasoning abilities. I think that the inability to exercise such consideration allowed the dichotomy that MaKenzie mentioned regarding how people viewed Hillary and Trump to develop. Hillary's focus on a laundry list of specific policies contrasted poorly with Trump's message of fighting economic mismanagement and elitist conspiracies to average Americans. I think this is as much a matter of differences in education and the ensuing perspective which develops as it is of population demographics.
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