Why I Refuse to Go Along to Get Along

Yesterday, my uncle posted this picture to Facebook. I did not immediately see it because, contrary to popular belief, I have a job and do not spend every waking moment on Facebook. My mother, however, has a lot of (too much?) free time on her hands and immediately noticed her big brother’s post.

Activate: Howler Monkey Mode.

Almost as soon as my uncle posted this picture to Facebook, my mother called me in full-on howler monkey mode. How dare he? How could he? What the fuck was he thinking? (Okay, the “fuck” may have not been a direct quote, but I definitely heard a fuck-y tone.) Needless to say, she was upset. And, like any loving parent, she took to Facebook to defend her children.

My mother has three lesbian daughters. She is, by far, the most supportive parent any gay girl could ever hope for. Seriously. She is a gay kid’s dream. Unfortunately, due to her all-encompassing love and support for her gay children, living in small-town Kentucky can be difficult for her at times. To say Owensboro is not the most progressive town in the world is a gross understatement. I’m proud of where I come from, but I left for a very real reason – as you will likely come to see in the course of this ranty blog post.

So I was not surprised when my mother called me yesterday. Nor was I terribly upset at the time. Hate speech is rampant on the internet, and haters are a dime a dozen. Was I sad that this particular picture was posted by a family member? Sure. Was I angry? Not right away. Honestly, I was busy. And I tend to dismiss my mother at times as an over-reactor. It’s an unfair characterization, but we all have pre-conceived notions about our parents that we re-think the older we get.

Then I read my mom’s response to his post. And I swelled with pride. There was my mom, smack dab in the middle of Trump country, calling out her own big brother for his ignorant, hateful attack on LGBTQ people. His attack on her own children. I knew this was not easy for her. I knew she would get grief for it. I knew she would eventually be forced to apologize for shit-stirring, though she was absolutely right in her response. I knew she would be pressured to go along to get along. I knew all of these things intrinsically.

My uncle knows a few things, too. He knows very well that my mother has lesbian daughters. He knows very well that his youngest sister has a gay son. He knows very well that his brother has a transgender son. He knows very well that his own deceased brother was gay and died of AIDS. He knows almost all of us LGBTQ family members left Owensboro because it was not a place we could live a healthy, happy life. He knows we were driven from our hometown because of the exact attitudes this photo represents. He knows all of this, yet chose to post a nasty, demeaning meme of Facebook.

And for what purpose?

To hurt? To belittle? To get a laugh? From whom?

I have to believe he did not mean to hurt my mother’s feelings. I have to believe that he did not mean to upset her to the point of activating her howler monkey mode. I have to believe he did not expect the backlash he received. I want to believe these things. But honestly, it doesn’t matter.

Words are powerful.

Words have consequences.

Regardless of my uncle’s motive for posting such an ugly meme – and honestly, I can’t fathom what it would be – it was hate speech. Plain and simple. My uncle called me a perversion. On Facebook. In public. For all to see. My uncle’s hastily, and probably mindlessly, shared post attacked me. It attacked my sisters. It attacked my wife. It attacked my children. It was deplorable, and I will not just “let it go.”

As you can imagine, the post did not go over so well with my mother. Or with me (eventually). A small Facebook feud ensued, with my uncle’s daughter and granddaughter calling me self-righteous and telling me to get over myself. His wife implored my mother and I to drop it for peace’s sake, arguing that it was a “difference of opinion.” One of my aunts evoked my late grandmother, declared that we were family, and asked that we all just get along. When a different uncle tried to comment on the issue this morning, he was shut down saying that the discussion happened yesterday and he had no right to stir the pot. My cousin texted me to ask me why I bothered engaging my uncle’s daughter, and indicated that he had to believe my uncle could change. My mother deleted her post.

What. The. Fuck.

For the record, we DO NOT have a difference of opinion.  You aren't allowed to have an opinion on who I love. You are not allowed to have an opinion of my family's right to exist. You do not get to have an opinion on whether or not I am a beloved child of God. 

Things that constitute a “difference of opinion:”

• Waffles versus pancakes (Waffles. Obviously.)
• iPhone versus Android (iPhone is trash.)
• Chinese take-out versus pizza (Asian food FTW! Always.)
• Star Wars versus Star Trek (Well, duh.)
• Dogs versus cats (Dogs. 100% dogs.)
• Scrambled versus sunny-side up (Depends on my mood.)
• Crocs versus adult shoes (No one over the age of 12 should wear Crocs!)
• Pepsi versus Coke (Diet Pepsi for life!)

Things that DO NOT constitute a difference of opinion:

• “My niece is a human being worthy of respect” versus “My niece is a perversion I can demean on Facebook whenever I feel like it”

Did anyone even see my uncle’s original photo? Does no one care that he personally attacked at least five members of our family and their spouses, parents, and children with his ignorant meme? We delete all evidence of it and just ignore his ignorance? We just let him get away with it so we can keep peace in the family? With our silence, we condone his comments?

Maybe I went too far calling my uncle a “Trump deplorable.” But I don’t think I did. This was not the first hateful post of his I’ve felt compelled to address. He posted hate speech against Muslims, and attacked my sister and her children when she told him that their father is a Muslim from Morocco. (I seriously doubt he has ever even met a Muslim person.) He inferred that the children in cages at the border deserve to be there until their parents “go back where they came from.” (Hmmm…that phrase sounds vaguely familiar this week.) He had the audacity to say to my mother, “I don’t mean to upset Shannon. You know I love your girls.”

Umm….yeah. Okay.

My family would like me to go along to get along. They would like the self-righteous Minnesotan to just shut up and take it. Be the bigger person, they say. But that’s bullshit. Intolerance and hate and bigotry should NOT be ignored. That is how it festers and grows. When we do not address hate speech head on and make the speaker accountable, these ideas spread. It may seem insignificant in the moment, but it grows exponentially. It balloons at a rate that is unfathomable. One only needs to look at how our country has changed in two and a half short years to realize this is an absolute truth.

Intolerance begets intolerance. Hate begets hate. When we allow someone to paint another human being as an “other” as my uncle’s ridiculous (and honestly, juvenile) meme did, it is easier to dehumanize that person. It is not a huge leap. It is a natural progression from dehumanizing words to dehumanizing actions. By attacking LGBTQ people (or Muslims, or immigrants, or brown people, or women), we set up a them versus us dynamic. They are not like us. They are different. They don’t deserve the respect we deserve because they do not look like us. Or sound like us. Or think like us.

Or love like us.

It is easier to turn our backs to injustice because it only affects “them” and not “us.” It becomes easier to refuse to bake a cake for a gay couple. It becomes easier to verbally abuse women in headscarves on city buses. It becomes easier to attack transgender children for their choice of bathroom. It becomes easier to say that a dead trans woman deserved it. It becomes easier to shoot first and ask questions later when a person has brown skin. It becomes easier to keep minorities “in their place” with policies that reward the greedy and victimize the poor.  It becomes easier to accuse people who disagree with us of being un-American. And it becomes extraordinarily easier to put little kids in cages.

Because they are not one of us. They are different. Strange. Unacceptable.

Perversions, even.

Do I think my uncle was thinking of me (or my sisters, or my cousins) when he posted this meme? No.  Do I think he meant to call me out personally? No. Do I think it matters?

Absolutely not.

I’m not going to just go along to get along.  I will not apologize. I will not keep the peace. I will not be a “them” to your “us.” I will not make anyone else a them. When I face my creator one day, she is going to know that I was not perfect, but I was not complicit either.

Call me self-righteous again.

Please.