intramuralist ™

[With the Intramuralist tending to a special family event, I share one of my favorite editorials. This insightful piece was written by Taffy Brodesser-Akner, originally appearing on Salon.com in April of 2011.]

Janet and I would likely have never met, save for the thing that unites so many women across divides of income and age: fat. We met in a weight-loss group. There were six or seven of us in that group, but Janet and I were drawn toward each other. I liked her refusal to lie about what she’d eaten or rationalize it. She liked my tenacity and optimism. She handed me a business card that said her name, followed by “Ph.D., Housewife” and contact information. Clip art of an American flag appeared on the next line.

Beyond our weight-loss goals, we had little in common. She lives in Beverly Hills; I live in an area just beyond it where the potholes are reminiscent of Sarajevo and the government is broke. When we met, Janet was just closing up shop on reproduction, and I had just gotten married.

But for all the things we don’t have in common — and the papery, crumply things we do — our main difference is our political affiliation. Janet is a lifelong, passionate Republican. She does not pretend she is just a fiscal Republican, or just a Republican for Israel, as so many in our Jewish community are. She is a real, live, voting Republican. She likes Fox News and Rush Limbaugh. She admires Sarah Palin. She is for the defunding of NPR and Planned Parenthood. She is against “Obamacare,” and she is for parental notification of abortions. Right now on my Facebook page, I have linked to a New York Times article on how women’s rights are being violated by South Dakota’s new abortion laws. Janet has just posted on hers — I’m not kidding — video footage of her and her husband at target practice.

In the beginning, it didn’t matter. We were more concerned with our own mutual war on body fat. And we soon found on the periphery of weight loss the other things we had in common: a love of books and science, a hatred of hysterics. After I gave birth to my son, so far from my own extended family, her children became a local version of cousins: They marveled at his every new word, they imitated his walk, they donated the books they aged out of. Our husbands began to socialize. Before we knew it, our families were, well, family.

Word got out that Janet and I were spending time together.

“You know she’s a Republican, right?” whispered another member of our weight-loss group after I took her card. It was meant as, well, what, exactly? A warning?

Yes, I had known. Her daughters’ names are Liberty, Honor and Victory, the latter named at the time we invaded Iraq. (Her son’s name, inexplicably, is Bernard.) She owns a bust of Ronald Reagan and cried when he died, proving that she, perhaps alone with Nancy, had remembered that he was still alive. There is a bumper sticker on her very, very large SUV that says “REPEAL,” and I believe it refers to the healthcare bill. Janet and I refer to each other’s political parties as “your people,” but mostly, we try to stick to the things we have in common: budgets, schools, child-rearing. Janet wore a Tea Party shirt to my last birthday party, and my birthday present to myself was to not ask about it.

But it’s hard not to talk about it at all. When you live, say, on a coast or in a very blue state, you grow accustomed to being surrounded by people who believe like you do. You get to thinking that the only people who would dare contradict you are ignoramuses. Meanwhile, I began directing all my anger toward the Republican Party at Janet. On the day that Congress voted to defund Planned Parenthood, I found myself furious at Janet, just Janet, as the face of all that was bad in the world. Feeling sad and deflated, I wandered over to her house, unable to look her in the eye, asking her why? How? To what end?

She told me she didn’t believe government had any business funding it in the first place. That this isn’t about abortion or hating women but ways the government doesn’t need to be involved. She told me Planned Parenthood was well-funded and won’t even miss the money. “Planned Parenthood will be better off without government funding and all the strings that are presumably attached,” she said. “I sometimes wonder why liberals, who are so enamored of the freedom to do any damn thing they want, even take government money when it constricts their freedoms.”

I closed my eyes and breathed through what she was saying. Janet isn’t Glenn Beck or Sarah Palin. She believes what she’s telling me, and she’s studied the issues. That might be what is so difficult: She has the same education as I have, and yet she has made different decisions, decisions that are so counter to what I believe. Decisions I find abhorrent.

And yet, I think having a Republican friend is making me a better liberal. We need friends who differ from us. It’s easy to watch Republican extremism and think, “Wow, they’re crazy.” But when someone is sitting face to face with us, when someone we admire and respect is telling us they believe differently, it is at this fine point that we find nuance, and we begin to understand exactly how we got to this point in history. We lose something critical when we surround ourselves with people who agree with us all the time. We lose out on the wisdom of seeing the other side.

When I moved to Los Angeles, the 2004 election had just finished ravaging the neighborhood. Friendships had ended over differences of opinions, a few marriages had learned what they were made of when one couldn’t abide what hadn’t been that big of a deal before 9/11. And so when I met Janet, she was on the defensive. That first dinner at her house, someone brought up her Republicanism. I looked down into my soup, sure this was something we shouldn’t talk about. I don’t remember the comment, or Janet’s reply, but I remember my husband asking why she’d be friends with all these liberals — and yes, it was only liberals at the table — if she felt so strongly. Throwing her hands up, she said, “I guess I lack the courage of my convictions.”

But it’s not that. I don’t speak for Janet, but I think there’s something deeper at play. Janet’s willingness to associate with so many liberal friends — though I know she seeks refuge in chat rooms and magazines that share her beliefs — makes her a better and more interesting person. She has her beliefs challenged constantly. She is more well-read and educated in her politics than most of the liberals I know. Too many liberals I know are lazy, they have a belief system that consists of making fun of Glenn Beck and watching “The Daily Show.” Shouldn’t their beliefs be challenged, too?

This is a democracy, after all. Isn’t it worth understanding a bit more about why approximately half the country votes differently than we do? Isn’t it important that we understand why people — good and legitimate Americans, whose votes count as much as ours — like Sarah Palin? Isn’t it crucial we figure out why any woman would want to defund Planned Parenthood, if only so we could then address the argument? Nobody benefits from sitting in a room, agreeing with everyone else.

Last year, Janet sent me a gift subscription for the National Review. Maybe it was her way of trying, like I am here, to understand how we can be so different and yet the same. Maybe it was a wish, a kind of magical thinking, that if I knew what she knew, I would think how she thinks. It didn’t work. In fact, I now often receive solicitations for causes and candidates I find objectionable. Every time I have to unsubscribe from something, tear up a brochure or tell someone on the telephone how disgusted I am with his or her mandate, I think again about how deep our differences run, mine and Janet’s, and I wonder if this is all worth it.

Then I remember the things that don’t get discussed in our debates — how she held my hand through a recent surgical procedure, rubbing it and distracting me the way a mother would, how she calms my fears about parenting, how she has been a family to me in a town where I have none. How that right-wing, gun-loving, flag-wearing, union-busting Republican still thinks, after all this time, and with so much information to the contrary, that I can lose and keep off weight.

I can’t help it. I love her.

Respectfully… always…

AR

 

True to our namesake, once upon a time this semi-humble, athletic enthusiast routinely rewarded myself with a college Phys. Ed. class. My goal was to take one each semester to balance out the work load. Upon graduation therefore — right below my highly respected and useful classes of Econ, BLaw, and Operations, for example — were transcribed courses such as Basketball, Bowling, and Ball Room Dancing — never neglecting, too, the formidable trio of Beginning, Intermediate, and Advanced Golf. The Intramuralist has always been true to its name.

Arguably my favorite athletic elective, no less, was Badminton. Now before the collective snickers and jeers, let me say that for those yet under the guise that such is simply the relaxing, recreational pastime of sunny summer gatherings, I contend that badminton is no such thing. Badminton is a furious, fast-moving, incredibly active sport. Said as only the ever-so-factual Wikipedia can, “The sport demands excellent fitness: players require aerobic stamina, agility, explosive strength, speed and precision.” (…explosive strength? …uh… ok… that was me. 🙂 )

Truth told, a close friend at the time was a senior student who grew up playing what seemed the equivalent of AAU in the Philippines. He was a fantastic badminton player — so talented, he decided to take me under his wing. Hence, thanks to Erwin, I did quite well in my favorite elective. I did far more than hold my own.

Near the semester’s end, we held a single-elimination, singles tournament — 3 game matches, playing to 21. In a field of forty, I advanced to the semi-finals. Here I encountered the #2 singles player on the Purdue men’s tennis team. Obviously, he was exceptionally good.

Many times I have recounted this match… slamming that small feathered shuttlecock to and fro… hustling and sweating… making some awesome shots. My serve was totally on! Our match went the full three games. And as the years have passed, I have gleefully shared what a wonderful triumph the game proved to be. Here a scholarshipped racquet star was eclipsed by this not-so-nerdy management grad. What a game.

I have thought of that match many days recently… granted, it wasn’t sports that made me think of the triumphant occasion…

Some weeks ago we watched as NBC anchor Brian Williams acknowledged he hadn’t told the truth when proclaiming he was in a helicopter hit by enemy fire. That story led us to Hillary Clinton’s false 2008 claim of outrunning “sniper fire in Bosnia”… then the biased Mother Jones accused news host Bill O’Reilly of lying for CBS, during reporting on the Falkland Islands in 1982; O’Reilly claims the accusations are false. And then this week VA Dept. Sec. Bob McDonald — a man the Intramuralist highly respects — admitted he lied when he told a homeless man he served in the Special Forces.

The question is honesty: are people honest? Are our leaders honest? Should we require honesty? Was Bush #2 always honest? Is Obama always honest? Always? (… and better yet… do we give a pass to one but scrutinize the other??)

I return again to my infamous badminton story because I have news for you: for years I told the story as if I beat that #2 men’s tennis player. It was an awesome match! But the gaping reality is that I sincerely cannot remember if I won or lost. I remember how I felt… and I felt like I won! I remember a tight match, an active struggle, all against an opponent who thought no one would ever come close to him… I even remember the look on his face! And when I think of the story, I really do think I won; it was awesome!! But I might not have. My story is not a lie; but it may not be the truth.

The better question when honesty is disputed is what may be the purpose of the lie… to look better? … sound better? … advance self? … advance a desired cause? … to cast a manipulated image? That’s what we should ask each person of whom a mistruth is accused.

As for me and my glorious badminton story, I really have no good answer as to why I may have enthusiastically shared such a mistruth. I have no desire to manipulate my audience. I do, however, enjoy sharing the feeling that I almost won.

Respectfully…

AR

Let’s see if this works (… ahem… forgive me now…).

In light of the subjectivity that many believe exists within the award distribution by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, I thought, perhaps, we could creatively combine a topic or two and come up with our own semi-sarcastic list. Hence, with all due respect and my tongue buried somewhere deep within my cheek… we whimsically submit… “and the winner is…”

Achievement in Sound Editing: It’s a TIE — between VP Joe Biden and former Mayor Rudy Giuliani. Biden was easily in the lead, but the Mayor has come on strong in recent weeks. Both nominees seem in need of frequent bleeps, editing out how they really feel.

Best Foreign Language Film: Every foreign film wins except for anything created by ISIS, Al-Qaeda, Al-Shabaab, or any other radical, Islamic terrorist group  (Note: their films are not worth watching).

Best Actress: Hillary Clinton. Sorry, but there’s a reason we have not seen nor heard from this presumed, inevitable nominee for months. She’s polishing herself, making sure she both looks and sounds presidential — re-crafting her brand, so-to-speak. Also no doubt, she wants to ensure she doesn’t compete with Joe and Rudy and their bleeps above… at least any time in the near future.

Best Actor: Sen. Rand Paul. This was perhaps our toughest decision, as we have a full slate of nominees in this category; multiple persons are running for the presidency, and yet they continue to act as if they are not. Well done. Great acting. (Note: honorable mention goes to NBC’s Brian Williams.)

Best Director: Not sure who wins here, but it’s certainly not FBI Director James B. Comey. The most senior American official in charge of directing our attacks against terrorism was not invited to last week’s official “Summit on Violent Extremism.” As said by the New York Times, “The omission of Mr. Comey adds further uncertainty over who in the government is in charge of the anti-extremist effort.” (Hence, we will currently forgo this title.)

Best Supporting Actress: Marie Harf. This nominee (also known as a State Dept. spokesman) found herself attempting to support a self-described, “too-nuanced”-for-some rhetoric that suggested a “lack of opportunity for jobs” is a root cause for the current terrorism crisis.

Best Supporting Actor: White House Press Sec. Josh Earnest. Day after day, this person stands before the press, taking questions, acting as if he or she represents the most effective, ethical, transparent, and wisest administration that has ever existed (… is there a tougher job than this? … for any press secretary?).

Best Picture: When I think of the winner of this award, I think of those images that moved us or made us think. The pictures don’t always make us feel good, but they do change how we feel — creations such as “Braveheart,” “Gladiator,” and “Slumdog Millionaire.” This year the picture that has most made me think is the still shot of those 21 Egyptian Christians led slowly, but methodically up the shore to their eventual beheading by the radical Islamic terrorists. I will not be able to erase that memory any time soon. That picture changes us.

And a final category… (a little lighter…)

Best Original Song: (It’s a year old, but still appropriate…) Disney’s Frozen’s “Let It Go.” We could all “let it go” a little more often… letting go of disrespect… letting go of any stubborn, superior opinion… letting go of even semi-sarcastic awards…

Respectfully…

AR

As bantered back and forth in recent blog posts, there is ample question on how best to tackle the current crisis. The Intramuralist has been respectfully concerned with Pres. Obama’s unwillingness to be specific in his terminology, refusing to call out the perpetrators as “radical Islamic terrorists.” The administration intentionally avoids associating terrorism with Islam. Contrasted with Obama’s frequency of specifically calling out other persons and religions — especially Christianity — I find his lack of willingness to be specific in this area concerning. I am not attempting to be critical. I am simply concerned about the ambiguous motive behind his ambiguous terminology.

In an attempt to understand the ambiguity (as opposed to any of us being seduced into simply adopting a partisan stance), I’ve been reading much, including the President’s own words. Arguably the most insightful piece I read was from Graeme Wood in The Atlantic. (Thank you to the several who suggested it.) The piece is excellent, informative, and long. Today I offer an edited portion of his perspective…

“What is the Islamic State? Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers… In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as ‘not Islamic’ and as al-Qaeda’s ‘jayvee team,’ statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.

The group seized Mosul, Iraq, last June, and already rules an area larger than the United Kingdom. Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi has been its leader since May 2010, but until last summer, his most recent known appearance on film was a grainy mug shot from a stay in U.S. captivity at Camp Bucca during the occupation of Iraq. Then, on July 5 of last year, he stepped into the pulpit of the Great Mosque of al-Nuri in Mosul, to deliver a Ramadan sermon as the first caliph in generations—upgrading his resolution from grainy to high-definition, and his position from hunted guerrilla to commander of all Muslims. The inflow of jihadists that followed, from around the world, was unprecedented in its pace and volume, and is continuing.

Our ignorance of the Islamic State is in some ways understandable: It is a hermit kingdom; few have gone there and returned… We can gather that their state rejects peace as a matter of principle; that it hungers for genocide; that its religious views make it constitutionally incapable of certain types of change, even if that change might ensure its survival; and that it considers itself a harbinger of—and headline player in—the imminent end of the world.

The Islamic State, also known as the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS), follows a distinctive variety of Islam whose beliefs about the path to the Day of Judgment matter to its strategy, and can help the West know its enemy and predict its behavior. Its rise to power is less like the triumph of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt (a group whose leaders the Islamic State considers apostates) than like the realization of a dystopian alternate reality in which David Koresh or Jim Jones survived to wield absolute power over not just a few hundred people, but some 8 million.

We have misunderstood the nature of the Islamic State in at least two ways. First, we tend to see jihadism as monolithic, and to apply the logic of al‑Qaeda to an organization that has decisively eclipsed it… We are misled in a second way, by a well-intentioned but dishonest campaign to deny the Islamic State’s medieval religious nature…

The reality is that the Islamic State is Islamic. Very Islamic. Yes, it has attracted psychopaths and adventure seekers, drawn largely from the disaffected populations of the Middle East and Europe. But the religion preached by its most ardent followers derives from coherent and even learned interpretations of Islam. Virtually every major decision and law promulgated by the Islamic State adheres to what it calls, in its press and pronouncements, and on its billboards, license plates, stationery, and coins, ‘the Prophetic methodology,’ which means following the prophecy and example of Muhammad, in punctilious detail. Muslims can reject the Islamic State; nearly all do. But pretending that it isn’t actually a religious, millenarian group, with theology that must be understood to be combatted, has already led the United States to underestimate it and back foolish schemes to counter it. We’ll need to get acquainted with the Islamic State’s intellectual genealogy if we are to react in a way that will not strengthen it, but instead help it self-immolate in its own excessive zeal…”

As the conversation continues, let’s figure this out… be respectful… call it what it is… and avoid political correctness. Let’s do nothing to strengthen the terrorists. And let none of us be seduced into simply adopting a partisan stance. This is not a partisan issue.

Respectfully…

AR