Political affiliations aside, we have an opportunity to do the right thing.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about generalizations... my exact words being, “I don’t know what the answer is... other than generalizations are dangerous.” While it’s a given that all radical Islamists are Muslim, it’s beyond dangerous and stupid to act as if all Muslims are radical Islamists. Nearly as dangerous as talking publicly about millions of illegal votes, void of evidence, and just as stupid as believing every single one of those votes were cast for your opponent.
During my first two years of high school I spent much of my free time with a guy called Brian. Brian was a sort of high school anomaly... short, nerdy, un-athletic, and nonetheless, a bully. Normally a guy like him would be on the receiving end, but he’d figured out how to align with the bigger and more popular kids for protection.
He used to like to teach his four-year-old sister bad words. We couldn’t contain ourselves when she would finally remember and repeat what he’d taught her. One night, still a couple of years from having our licenses, we manually lifted the garage door, pushed his mom’s minivan into the driveway, and went for a short joyride around the neighborhood. Within a few weeks we’d graduated from the minivan at night to his dad’s Camaro in the middle of the day.
One Sunday afternoon, with Brian driving, his parents passed us as we were waiting to turn at a red light. Assuming they’d seen us, the race was on to beat them home. We hit some loose gravel going too fast and slammed into a concrete wall. We lost the race.
Brian always had more money than us average fourteen-year-olds. I’d just assumed it was from working at his dad’s store, since he wasn’t legally old enough to hold a job. It seemed to be a logical conclusion as to the origins of his never-dwindling wad of cash. At least until I caught him reaching into the purse of an unknowing customer. He said he’d give me half of everything he stole if I kept my mouth shut. I obliged... and pocketed a few bucks.
We were reading ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ for sophomore English. And, it just so happened the drama club’s current production was based on the same title. As punishment for being a pain in our first-year teacher’s ass, Brian and I, and a handful of other students, were required to sit through the amateur production. During intermission, I followed Brian into the bathroom. We entered just as a guy was backing away from one of the urinals. He looked to have arthrogryposis... his left leg noticeably shorter than his right, and his hands in fixed flexion. As Brian passed him, headed for a stall, he called him “dino gimp” and started laughing. I didn’t laugh. The guy washed his hands and left.
The next day in English class, our teacher tearfully recounted what had happened to her husband in the bathroom the night before. She knew it was Brian, but didn’t call him out by name... asking instead if any of us wanted to take responsibility.
I should have said something. No... I should have beat the hell out of Brian in the bathroom. But I didn’t. Just like I convinced myself that I never stole from those people, or crashed Brian’s parent’s car. Years later, my conscious knows no difference...
No one’s acceptance is worth standing by idly. Our safety is paramount, but not at the cost of our values. Banning entire countries, even temporarily, based on religion is lazy, unconstitutional, and un-American, and not unlike the absurdity of outlawing lunch because of a few isolated cases of chicken salad-related food poisoning.
Innovation knows no borders.