Pride and Protest
On learning to be angry about the right things.
As I’m scheduling this to publish, it’s June 1st, the start of Pride Month. And I realized that, at first glance, one might assume the title of this post is referencing this, though that’s not the exact topic I’m exploring here today. I almost decided to come up with a new title, but after some thought I chose to stick with it. Because all fights for human rights are deeply linked. As a queer woman, I’m celebrating this month, remembering that Stonewall was a riot in response brutal violence, and doing everything I can to create a world where no one is being killed because of who they are. This post is dedicated to all those, past and present, fighting for love, equality, justice, peace, and a world where marginalized and oppressed peoples get to not just exist, but thrive.
I recently listened to the audiobook version of The Library Book by Susan Orleans. It was brilliant and fascinating. Part investigative journalism, part love letter to libraries, Orleans uses the fire that damaged the Central Los Angeles Library in 1986 as the central storyline for exploring the library’s past and present, the history of book burning and more, all while highlighting how important libraries are to our communities.
I found myself tearing up several times as I listened, overwhelmed by my own love of books, the library, and my immense respect for the librarians who work tirelessly to make these buildings a haven of safety, knowledge, and neighborhood support.
So when I heard the news a few weeks ago that a protest at Portland State University, decrying the genocide of Palestinians, had led to a dozen students breaking into the campus library and not just occupying it, but causing immense damage to the building and books, I was upset.
Not because I didn’t fully support those protesting the assault on Gaza and calling for a halt to genocide, but because seeing the destruction of the library pained me.
And that’s when I made the mistake of many cis white folks before me. I thought, yes, protest, but do it peacefully.
After all, this was a shit move, right? How is destroying the library — a place meant to be a safe and accessible space for all — helping the cause? How is it not simply detracting from your message and causing more people to turn against your campaign?
I said as much to my college-aged kid, needing them to understand that protests were important, but it was also important to consider how to do it right and what would ultimately be most effective.
But the more I sat with my discomfort, the more I realized that discomfort had caused me to fall back on old patterns of thought.
I’m the first to confess that I have a very difficult time admitting when I’m wrong. So even as the quiet voice of reason and compassion in my head was telling me I was getting angry at the wrong thing, I tried to justify my position. They could have interrupted access to any number of places on campus, why did it have to be the library?
While my initial reaction didn’t make me a bad person — after all, reactions are formed by all sorts of history and past trauma we can’t control — with some contemplation, I began to realize my priorities were pretty messed up. In the end, I had to ask myself what kind of pride did I possess to take that initial reaction and run with it, unwilling to stop and reconsider? To look at people calling for the end of a genocide and insist their methods had been wrong because ruined books made me sad?
The kind of pride that white western Christianity stokes at every opportunity and works to quickly indoctrinate into every child born into its ranks (that’s what kind). The kind of pride that says you know better than everyone else, that you are the sole possessor of truth, and that anything that contradicts your opinion is not just false, but evil.
No matter the actual evil staring you in the face.
Evangelicalism — which has threaded its way into every aspect of American politics — teaches us to be angry about the wrong things. And it has taught us well. People are more angry about a book that has queer characters that exist in contradiction of personal (bigoted) beliefs than they are about the fact that queer kids are unaliving themselves. People are more concerned about preventing teachers from referring to students using they/them pronouns than preventing adults from slaughtering children because they were born on the wrong side of an imaginary border.
When I thought about the fact that all of Gaza’s libraries have been reduced to dust…some spray paint, ruined books and overturned tables paled in comparison. The PSU library will be repaired and restocked in a year. Students will be back to researching and studying and roaming the stacks. The university’s insurance will likely cover most of the cost.
But what of Gaza? How long will it take for Palestinians to recover — if they’re even given the chance? And what about the cost that can never be recovered? The lives lost, families ripped apart, and lineages erased? The horrific trauma that will go on for generations?
I don’t understand how people can look at the destruction being rained down upon the Palestinian people and only dig in their heels to defend it…and yet…I know exactly why they do.
Because Evangelicalism taught me to believe in a God who, at best turned a blind eye to the suffering of those who didn’t believe in Jesus, and at worst, advocated for their suffering and destruction, both now and in the afterlife.
I grew up listening to Christian leaders declare that everything from AIDS to war to natural disasters was punishment from The Almighty on sinful people and cultures. That any number of horrors were foreordained by God as a necessary prelude to Jesus’ triumphant return.
I grew up reading Christian novels1 that demonized Palestinians and Muslims (only redeemable if a Christian character was able to convert them), and that promoted Zionist worldviews.
I was taught that the most important quality of any presidential candidate was that they “support Israel,” and it was strongly implied that no matter what the Israeli government did, they were acting within the will of God.2
I was told that Palestinians only existed because of a mistake, that “conflict” between Palestine and Israel was inevitable, and that Palestinians had no real claim to the land they lived on.
Imagine being told by the world’s most dominant religion3 that your entire existence is a mistake, one that could have been avoided if only Abraham had kept it in his pants and trusted God’s word? Now imagine that this storyline is used to condone the complete eradication of your people, homeland, and culture.
You don’t really have to imagine it. It’s happening right before our eyes.
The news out of Gaza grows more gut-wrenching by the day. People and governments seem determined to pretend they can’t tell the difference between anti-semitism, Zionism, and calls for an end to the Israeli government’s crimes against Gaza.4 At this point, I don’t even know what to say. Which is why I’ve hesitated to write a post here on this subject – words seem woefully inadequate. And, as always, I’ve been afraid of saying the wrong thing.
But there’s no wrong way to say genocide is evil.
Then this past week, I kept seeing this post shared in my Instagram feed: “You are allowed to say, at any point, I can’t support his. Even if you did. Even if you were unsure. You can at any point say ‘this has gone too far.’ And while the best time to say that was earlier, second best time is now.”
It felt important to share my struggle with admitting my mistake of wanting others to tread more lightly when condemning the annihilation of an entire ethnic group. And to show that it can take a long time to wrestle yourself free from the indoctrination of a religion that taught you to devalue certain lives so thoroughly, but it is possible.
There’s another book I finished recently: Black AF History: The Un-Whitewashed Story of America.5 In one of the final chapters, “Thug Life: The Other Civil Rights Movement,” author Michael Harriot recalls his experience encountering a young man at a protest. Harriot comes across this young man right as he’s about to smash a window and catches his wrist, asking him to contemplate whether what he’s about to do will really help the cause. Harriot encourages him to keep the protest the way the organizers intended — peaceful. In the end, someone else busts the window first, and both Harriot and the young man flee the ensuing police retaliation. As the chapter closes, Harriot reveals the positive political changes made as a result of that protest. He ponders that perhaps it was the peaceful protesters that did it…or “maybe it was the thugs.”
I don’t know what will finally put an end to the heinous crimes being committed against the Palestinian people — because I have to hold onto hope that it will end. But I do know that I’m glad our young people are angry about the right things.
I hope we don’t let them down.
📚 As always, books. Here’s everything I read in the month of May.
🤗 Therapy. I just started a few months ago, and I’m so glad I did. It’s not only helping me process a lot of stuff, but it’s also helping me realize that my body and brain can actually help me out sometimes if I just stop trying to override them. (Who knew?)
🎧 Billie Eilish’s new album. Duh.
🌱 Plant bebes. I’ve been planting veggies and flowers and added a few new indoor plants to my growing collection. There’s something really healing about getting your hands in the soil and tending to small, living things. (Despite the infuriating ambiguity of what yellow leaves mean…too much water? Too little water? JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED.)
🍫 Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups.
If you know, you know. I’m not going to give the authors any more attention by naming them here, but if you’re curious, I do mention them in one of my past posts.
This is probably the part of Christian Zionism I most struggle to understand. Like, have you read the Bible?? Let’s count how many times one of Israel’s kings, priests, or prophets got themselves in hot water with the almighty because they acted outside his will. The title of “Person in Charge of Israel” is not synonymous with “Makes Good Decisions 100% of the Time.”
Yes, despite the constant claims of persecution and fear mongering around its supposed decline, Christianity continues to be the world’s most dominant religion.
It’s easy. The first one says that Jewish people shouldn’t exist. The second one says that Palestinians shouldn’t exist. The third one says everyone should get to exist without fear of being wiped off the face of the earth. In case you need further clarification, the first two are bad, the last one is good.
This book should be required reading for every white person in America. If you, like me, grew up in Christian learning spaces (whether homeschooled or private schooled) and you’re trying to learn all the stuff you were (conveniently) never taught, I cannot recommend this book enough. It will make you angry, but it will also make you laugh because the author is an incredible writer and has perfected the art of sarcasm. Do yourself a favor and go with the audiobook so he can read it to you himself and you can get the full experience. (If you’re reading this soon after I post this, you may be able to snag it for just $4.99 on libro.fm!)
Have you read Valarie Kaur on the revolutionary power of rage?