Shaped by Opposition
In the past few weeks I’ve been thinking about the common penchant for outrage, how people seem to need (or at least really like) to find something to brace against. To, in Leslie Jamison’s words “be shaped by opposition.” I see it in my kids, how they want to be angry at someone (usually the umpire) when things don’t go their way. I see it in casual conversations with people who seem to define their beliefs more by who they disagree with than who they align with. I see it in myself when I am in traffic and furious that someone won’t just MOVE UP THREE FEET because they are obviously the biggest IDIOT in the WORLD. The failure to look inside with any kind of clarity, the eagerness to look outside for a place to direct blame is comfortable, dangerous, and stupid. Baldwin writes, in his introduction to Nobody Knows My Name, “A person cannot face in others what he cannot face in himself.”
Isn’t it so much easier to blame others? To be incensed and fueled by that burning that doesn’t long for anything? At the far end of the entitlement to outrage spectrum is the hate-fueled activity and vitriol that is ravaging the world.
But mostly, I am speaking here about small outrage–the kind that makes you feel vindicated somehow, that someone else is so clearly wrong. Though I wonder if our outrage and deep grief over terrible injustices, racial violence, systemic inequity might somehow be related to this minutiae-rage. I wonder if, for those of us who are deeply troubled by these bigger things in the world, the small bursts of outrage–in line at the grocery store, in traffic, in the comment lines of our facebook statuses, in our everyday dealings with our mothers–might be small ways we relieve the pressure of the helplessness of the larger outrage we don’t know how to begin to overcome and confront. But if we don’t, I don’t know who will. Are we waiting for our sweet-cheeked children to grow up and fix this mess? If so, are we preparing them with the tools to do so?
All I’ve got are questions, you guys. And a really great story about a guy who sort of navigated the world by shaping himself in opposition for you to listen to while you fold the laundry (usually I give you a pass on laundry, but I did five loads on Friday so I’m not feeling lenient). Write whatever you want. It’s Father’s Day and I’m feeling complicated. You could write about that if you want. Or avoid it until you’re ready. Like me.
(just a little warning, so you can decide if you’re up for this: a person gets shot in the story, but there isn’t a sound effect, it’s just read)
