I’ve always seen through the democratic BS of America. I don’t know whether that was being a third culture kid, but I think so.

My parents didn’t raise us to be particularly political. Though I remember them not saying who they voted for each election and I received the strong idea that having your own mind about politics was good.  Not so much with our religion. Perhaps I didn’t listen but my parents certainly weren’t zealous about patriotism. Two of my sisters and I weren’t born in America though we are US citizens. We were raised the first decade of our lives in Papua New Guinea where they didn’t allow the children of colonizers to become citizens even if they were born there.

I was born annoyingly curious I think. I’ve questioned a lot in my life. But it was always clear there were right and wrong questions, complicated by having an authoritarian father who didn’t tolerate much free thinking if it differed from him, so most of my questioning was internal.

There was no internet obviously in the 80s so the environment that surrounded us was powerful and it controlled our minds and hearts a lot. The Church, a Christian high school (though that one was my idea), attending a Christian college (definitely not my idea) all became the salt in the yeast, killing the leavening bubbles of curiosity and any questioning of authority. If you know anything about bread, adding salt at the wrong time flattens what yeast can do to create the rise.

I grew up afraid of the displeasure my father expressed when we did or said something he didn’t like which often took the form of anger and verbal punishment.   I also lived for his laughter at a joke or pleasure in something I did. I can’t think of much he liked about me growing up besides my sense of humor at times, at least that he told me. Dad admired education, intellect and musical talent– that I had, but just “didn’t apply myself” well enough. Unfortunately I began to “rebel” by not learning. I liked how mad and confused it made him. “You’re so smart! Why?!” Because it bothered him so much, duh.

My formative years were in a United Methodist church that I would now describe as kind of Pentecostal kind of Southern Baptist.  I was convinced that I was going to hell for most of high school because of how wicked my thoughts were (oh how I hated my father, that I knew for certain) and how disappointed my parents were in me for not “living up to my musical and academic potential.” I wasn’t outwardly rebellious, I was much too afraid, so it couldn’t have been my actions. I was simply a bad hearted person. And lazy. All qualities dad loathed. He ran from (his fear of) being lazy or uneducated or being perceived by others to be failing.

I suppose this is important information because it formed me into who I am. I am also afraid of being lazy and uneducated, though less and less as I know myself. I spent my thirties as a workaholic, working for him ironically, until I left ministry work for stay-at-home motherhood a decision that nearly killed me. I became majorly depressed even suicidal and an active alcoholic.

If my children are afraid of living, I know that it’s by my poor example.

I’m still afraid. Gratefully I got sober around 2008. There was still time enough to raise our kids differently but still I am who I am. Afraid. Careful. Untrusting. Wounded. 

I have struggled to let go of alcoholic behaviors. I got sober but it didn’t make me happy. In fact I’m sometimes furious that I can’t drink even though I’m glad to be sober. I have stopped working myself to death.  Good for me! I don’t miss working so hard to please everyone else. I’ve learned over time that I am smart, hardworking, empathetic, generous and loving.  

This is confusing to me as well.

Now we find ourselves here, in this political moment.

I stopped speaking about politics to friends at least eight years ago. This kid who isn’t patriotic, and questions everything, has come to despise politics because people are so stupid about it. Both sides. Talk is cheap.

I’ve always believed there’s enough of everything to go around if we’d only share… and that’s where I stand politically.

That brings me to Gaza. I am changed forever. Why has this conflict changed me? I’m so effected by the story of Palestinians that I will always raise Palestinian voices. But what else? Give money to help. I do.  And I’ve educated myself. The Church taught me stupid things about modern-day Israel. Because the attack of 2023 coincided with my medical retirement, I’ve been able to give myself an education on Jewish-Muslim relations, minimally. I’ve built a library. I have collected art and words. I read and listen to current events.

But I’m still speechless after more than 800 days of the current “conflict.” This is only the latest conflict, I learned, the first going back to the Nakba of 1948 when Palestine was essentially “given” to the Jews after World War Two though millions of Palestinians lived there. Many were forced to flea and became refugees, always believing they would return to their homes, farms, land. Others became 2nd class citizens of Israel. Still others were corralled into the Gaza Strip. A modern prison. If you want sources or to learn more, I can refer you.

I’ve never been comfortable with American history as I learned it. Being plopped down in California in the 70s I learned the history of the catholic priests in the Missions of the state. When I was dragged to Texas next I learned about the Alamo and our wars with Mexico to take their land. I learned about the people originally in America, “natives” they were called. First People’s who we made promises too and broke treaties, massacred or gathered into camps we called reservations, how we stole their children and demanded they not speak their mother tongue, learn the king’s English and put in children’s homes with again religious fanatics who abused and killed them.

American history is abominable. Our country started on the backs of Native Americans and continued on the backs of slaves. I’m not well versed enough to summarize that here in a way that does it justice. 

So no I’m not proud to be American. I believe in restitution though how it would work I don’t know. I believe we are colonizers and oppressors and everything we’ve done here and around the world, “bringing democracy” has continued that legacy of oppression and tyranny.

And now it’s come full circle back to us here in America against immigrants, black and brown folk, women, LGBT, all the “Other” that white Christians have tried to convert and now will lock up and imprison. The prisons system is yet another scurge filled mainly with black and brown individuals based on their numbers in the population as a whole.

And we won’t face it until it’s more of us white people being imprisoned.

We’re all targets.

It all comes back to not thinking for yourself.

To not sharing what we have.

It’s not that simple. And it’s not that complicated.

A lot of this I’ve written about in other places in this blog. I’m writing in my phone so I can’t link to it but look at the MENU of topics at the top of this page.