Our “national reckoning” is noble and started with just cause and out of a genuine need, but innocent and good people are getting caught up in its takedown. We have to do better at believing people can change and for people having the courage to speak up and be held accountable for their past actions. I think Morgan Spurlock took a big chance coming forward and saying he could have acted better towards women in the past. That took guts. And there are people who have written him off, and will never be a fan again. I look at Chris Hardwick and I see all his exes defending him against this one lone accuser, and I honestly don’t know who to believe. I don’t want to blame the victim, and I want to give everyone the benefit of my faith and the doubt, but the accused should have rights too. We can’t be judge, jury, and executioner to every person who has said the wrong thing, or made missteps in their past or wild indescretions of youth. Yes, rapists and sexual harassers need to be held accountable, and every offense is a serious part of a larger patriarchy and system of violence, but we also need to be sensible. We can’t conflate the actions of a rapist and someone who makes a bad joke on Twitter. There are degrees. We need to discriminate. We need to contextualize. If not, we are truly lost as a culture.
I recently read the article, Saying Stephen Hawking Is “Free” From His Wheelchair Is Ableist published in Teen Vogue. Initially, I had very mixed feelings about this article. In theory, I understand the spirit of saying, “The fact of the matter is that Stephen did all of his amazing work with his disability — not in spite of it.” We shouldn’t try and erase someone’s disability, and it is certainly part of them. I fully understand the idea that Ableism makes people unnecessarily ashamed to have a disability, and we must embrace the whole person, not try and strip them of their disability. However, as someone who is ON disability and LIVES with a disability, I would also challenge most people who have disabilities to honestly ask themselves whether they would choose to have that disability. I have no doubt that Stephen Hawking embraced his disability, and was successful with it and not in spite of it, but if given the choice, I wonder if he would have chosen to stand up and walk out of that wheelchair at any given time.
I know I would not choose to live with debilitating mental illness. Obviously, I don’t like the sentiment that death is a noble escape from disability. That’s reductive and diminishing. Clearly, disabled people can achieve nearly anything an able-bodied person can. But there are great obstacles. Huge challenges. I think its disingenuous to assert that people with disabilities would PREFER to have been born with, or develop a disability. Let’s be honest with ourselves. And yes, I’m sure this post will come under fire, and some people may even assert that I don’t have a qualifying disability because I’m not in a wheelchair. Yet, I still qualify as disabled. Doesn’t that qualify me to speak on the subject?
In this increasingly fractured and divisive time of identity politics, I sometimes wonder if we take these movements too far. To say I’m disabled, and proud is great. You should be. But is saying, “I’m disabled, and proud” the same as saying, “I’m black, and proud?” There’s nothing innately broken, disabled, or wrong with being black. Yet society seems to suggest there is something wrong with being disabled. Granted, no one chose to be black, just as no one chose to be disabled. But in our society, being black should be life-affirming, proud, and wonderful. Obviously, we live in a society plagued by Institutional Racism, and being black is unfortunately a liability much of the time. We live in an inequitable age, where women, members of the LGBTQ+ community, and minorities still face unenviable challenges. Many of them would rightfully suggest that racism, bigotry, and discrimination is a prejudice not unlike being disabled. However, for those of us who can rationally analyze what it means to be any race (as much as any of us can, given our pre-conditioning and stubborn socialization), we would embrace the fact that there is no inferior race, and that we are all human and blessed with an ineffable beauty. The same can be said about gender and orientation. And yet, in many people’s eyes, being disabled is somehow a state of being “half-formed” or “broken.” How could we not feel that way? Why would we be spending billions of R&D money trying to fix us? Being disabled is a social justice issue, just like being black in America is, but it’s not exactly the same thing. It’s hard not to feel inferior when your disability is trying to be fixed. Sure, there are plenty of people trying to “fix” black people or trans people, but no one worth listening to. Those people are just right, just the way they are. And we want to say that disabled people are too, but it is challenging, when to be disabled also means something or someone in need of a fix. It’s hard to directly compare disability with other social justice issues. No one in their right mind would try to fix being a woman. Or being born black. (although many people have tried) Yet, every day, we try and fix being disabled.
If we are truly honest with ourselves, we must also acknowledge that few people – if given the choice – would actually choose to have their disability. That may not be true for all, but I would venture to guess that a good many of us would. At the same time, I also allow that this thinking might be considered “Institutional Ableism” and that I have been socialized to see disability as “lacking,” “inadequate,” or somehow “broken” or “incomplete.” I accept that. I suppose there is a certain degree of self-loathing when it comes to having a disability, and many of us with challenges are “blessed” with the ignominious defeat of shame coupled with low self-esteem. I don’t deny that. I know that I am plagued by shame and guilt. Much of this undoubtedly stems from my disability. (A challenge, I might add, that has undoubtedly been with me since adolescence, but only recently diagnosed.) Does this ingrained and internalized guilt and shame manifest itself in self-loathing ways? Undoubtedly. I have no doubt that society’s view of disability and being in some way “broken” has worked its way into my subconscious. Hell, it’s right there in my conscious mind. I know what it feels like to feel broken. To be half-formed. To be somehow incomplete. Am I part of the problem?
I’ve sometimes wondered if developing a disability late in life may be more challenging than being born with one. That’s not to say that it isn’t as difficult dealing with the challenges from birth. However, I wonder if those who were born with a disability, and have known no other life, have an easier time accepting themselves and their circumstances. I sometimes wonder if it’s like the famous saying, “Time + Tragedy = Comedy.” Does Time + Disability = Acceptance and Self Love? For those of us who developed these disabilities after having lived a life without them (or without being diagnosed with them), it may take getting used to, and there may be an extended period of denial and/or shame. And grief, at the lives we perceive we lost. I may very well fall into that category. Perhaps I haven’t fully embraced my disability, and I am still entrenched in shame. If I truly felt blessed with my disability, perhaps I wouldn’t be so quick to try and shed it or profess the desire to have been born without this debilitating disease. Maybe I wouldn’t naturally assume that those with disabilities would choose NOT to have them, if given the choice. If my disability has in fact shaped me – as has my intellect, my height, or any other characteristic I have no control over – than perhaps I shouldn’t see it as a deficit, but rather, a trait not unlike the others. It is inescapably and indivisibly a part of me, and my identity. Maybe I would choose it.
In truth, Ableism is the stigma that keeps us from talking about mental health or averting our eyes from those in wheelchairs. It is the proverbial albatross around society’s necks, and one thing that prevents us from talking honestly about the emotional toll our averted gazes, furtive glances, and hushed whispers truly betray. As a society, we must grapple with the paradox that as we try to find cures for diseases like ALS or Bipolar Disorder, we are not trying to unduly cure the person suffering from those diseases of being who they truly are. How do we separate the person from the disease? Or do we? Can we love the whole person, while simultaneously attempting to cure them or their “disorder?” Is it even proper to call it a disorder? If “order” is normal and preferable, than surely disorder is broken and in need of a mend. I suffer from Bipolar Disorder. Am I in need of order? Probably. But is my life broken beyond repair, or is my condition just one of the many traits that make me unique and unquestionably loveable? I don’t know the answer to that question. I would hope it’s the latter.
The point is, the words we choose do matter. My initial reaction to this article was wrong. I was wrong to have a knee-jerk reaction to someone insisting it was Ableist to imply Stephen Hawking might choose death over his disability. Perhaps he might have. Perhaps he wouldn’t have chosen his disability. But he had one, and he chose to live his life fully and in a meaningful way. Maybe none of us would choose our disabilities, but for reasons unknown, they chose us. We weren’t cursed or smote by God, but by genetics, heredity, fate, circumstance, randomness, or whatever else you want to call it. It happened to us without our control, and we can either wallow in shame, or embrace what we’ve been given. Should we reject ourselves because of this? No! Is it okay to wish we weren’t burdened with these diseases? Yes. It’s okay. It has to be. We didn’t choose this. But we can choose how we think about our disability. Maybe we wouldn’t choose the disability. But it must stop there. The words we choose to describe our disabilities matter. We must be careful not to assume that someone would choose death over a disability. Or even that they wouldn’t choose it. Maybe they would. After all, it has made them who they are. Those are strong people, and something I aspire to.
What I do know is that I have a difficult time accepting my disability in its entirety, and I would find it surprising if anyone who suffers from a disability truly – in their heart of hearts – would choose to suffer with their disability or live without the pain, inconvenience, and accompanying heartache that disability inevitably brings. Maybe they would. I long to be that person who is so comfortable in their skin, that even their perceived deficits are seen as unique advantages. Perhaps one day, I will accomplish all the things I hope to accomplish not in spite of my disability, but because of it. With it. With all of me.
The words we choose matter. To be disabled is not to be broken. Even if deep down, I still harbor those hateful thoughts about myself. Even as medicine and science tries to cure us of our disabilities, we must cure ourselves…from the inside out. We must learn to embrace our disabilities, and accept ourselves for who we are. Only then, perhaps, we will choose to stay in the chair. Or learn to walk on our own. Society must learn to see us WITH our disabilities, and not be so hasty to change who we are and what we represent. The stigma is real. And if we cannot love ourselves first, it’s hard to imagine how we can expect others to see us fully and embrace us wholly. It’s a reciprocal relationship, and society needs to change, while we need to embrace our disabilities.
Maybe Stephen Hawking would have chosen the chair. Maybe he wouldn’t. But it’s not for us to decide.
We still have a long way to go. Perhaps me more than anyone.
So my mom was just telling me about a man she knows who sometimes talks to her like she was stupid and says sexist things from time to time. I quickly responded that he was “mansplaining” to her. She had never heard that expression. I then proceeded to explain it to her, while also being hyper-aware and vigilant about not doing the very thing I was preaching against.
I realized that this kind of hyper-vigilance is exactly what we all need to practice every day and in every circumstance. No matter who we’re talking to – friend, family, or foe. It’s not about political correctness. It’s about basic human decency and respect. We should always be able to disagree, but it’s about how we do so.
I honestly think half the problems in this world aren’t necessarily caused by WHAT we say to each other and what we disagree about, but HOW we say it. How we talk to each other matters. It should be discourse built on an unspoken agreement of respect and civility. It’s about empathy.
The next time I talk to a woman, or a child, or a minority, or someone perhaps less formally educated- but no less intelligent, or ANYONE, I hope I remember what I learned today: words matter. Charity begins at home, and the way we talk to each other is the first step towards truly listening. And that’s where true compromise lies.
My name is Jon, and I live with mental illness. For over thirty years, I have worked as a professional actor, director, writer, and educator. I have taught high school, university, and adult education. As a writer, I write reviews, political essays, social commentary, and have been published on several websites. Despite my many accomplishments, five years ago – at the age of 35 – I was diagnosed with severe Bipolar I Disorder and ADHD, and it changed my life forever. Tonight, I am here to describe my journey into the abyss, but also to share my resilient story of hope and recovery, and how I am living proof that it is possible to live a purposeful and rewarding life while living with mental illness.
Five years ago, I was living in Chicago, and finishing up a Master of Fine Arts degree in Directing. During my three years of grad school, I had been arrested for DUI, faced jail time and thousands of dollars in fines, lost my driver’s license and totaled a new car, gone through a painful breakup, abused drugs and alcohol, and suffered the deaths of two close friends – one of whom had Schizophrenia, and took his own life. On top of all this, I was put on probation in my theatre department, and nearly kicked out of the program. Not because of my grades – I had a 4.0 and was at the top of my class. It was because I was having interpersonal conflicts, and couldn’t effectively collaborate with my peers. I didn’t know how to deal with stress, and was driven by an unrealistic need for perfection in myself and in those around me. I couldn’t handle rejection and criticism, and often lashed out in defensive ways.
In my final semester of grad school, I was working as an assistant director at a theatre in Chicago, with three very famous actors. I was living the dream. What I didn’t know then, was that I was also living with mental illness. Quickly, the pain and stress of those three long years began to catch up with me, and I suddenly had a complete psychotic break. And yet, I felt greater than I had in years. I was sleeping only about an hour a night, but I was accomplishing so much! I was more creative than I had ever been, and began writing books, plays, and keeping a daily journal –which I would scribble in all throughout the day. I thought I was the next Hemingway. I had delusions of grandeur, and pictured myself writing the next great American novel or a hit Broadway show! I was juggling dozens of creative projects, including painting, drawing, and sculpting, and had transformed an entire room in my apartment into an artist’s studio, where I furiously created art around the clock.
I also started spending all my money on frivolous things. In addition to creating art, I was also buying antiques and collectibles at a local thrift store, and selling them online at a business I had created for charity. Soon, I began working as a head chef at a local bar and grill, and somehow I imagined that I was on the verge of launching the next hit restaurant in Chicago.
But there was also a dark side. I was becoming increasingly erratic. I began to hallucinate and hear voices, and came to believe that I was the Son of God—sent here to save humanity. I let my hair and beard grow, and began walking through the streets of Chicago barefoot, giving sermons on street corners and preaching to prostitutes. I walked alone through some of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Chicago, and nearly got shot more than once.
When I wasn’t in the streets, I was preaching crazy ideas on Facebook, and no one had any idea what I was talking about. I was completely unstable, and began fighting with people on social media. I lost a lot of friends during that time. Many people thought that I was just being a terrible person, without realizing I was having a complete psychotic breakdown. The few friends and family I had left were worried about me, but for many, this was the first time they had ever seen someone in crisis, and didn’t know what to do. After several failed attempts to get me help in Chicago, my family finally flew me back to Maine to receive the treatment I needed. There’s no telling how much longer I would have survived in Chicago. By the time I left, I was convinced the CIA were watching me, and planning my assassination. I was a danger to myself.
Within three days of arriving in Bangor, I was at PCHC (Penobscot Community Health Center), and had seen a primary care doctor, therapist, and med manager. Before long, I was diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder and ADHD, and put on several medications. I was also referred to the NAMI Bangor (National Alliance on Mental Illness) support group, and a Dialectical Behavioral Therapy class, to receive lessons in mindfulness and dealing with interpersonal conflict. All of this saved my life.
But make no mistake. I thought my life had ended. As scary as my time in Chicago might sound to you, for me, it was thrilling and exciting. Those three months of mania had been the most stimulating in my life, and I had never been so inspired or productive. I thought I was God, and now, here I was back in Maine, on disability, and living in my parents’ basement. All I wanted to do was die.
When I first got back, I attempted to teach and work in local theatre, but once again, I had serious conflicts with my colleagues, and gave up altogether. I became increasingly depressed, withdrew from friends and family, and rarely left the basement. I was overly medicated and could hardly function. I used to be a passionate and articulate person, but now here I was, drooling and could hardly feel a thing. I became suicidal, and made several attempts on my life.
For ADHD, I was put on Ritalin, and before long, I was snorting it for the high. It was the only time I felt creative and alive—like I had felt in Chicago. I was snorting an entire month’s supply in a week, which would make me manic, and not allow me to sleep for six or seven days at a time. My life was spiraling out of control, and I prayed every day that it would just end.
And it nearly did.
But about a year and a half ago, everything changed.
I was addicted to Ritalin, had gained nearly 80 pounds, and had been rushed to the emergency room several times. I finally said to myself: “You gotta get busy living, or get busy dying.” I realized I was trying to kill myself slowly, and things had to change. I decided to get busy living. But I needed to find purpose again. I had been on disability for over three years, and knew I couldn’t work. Yet, all my life, my work in theatre and education had given me all the purpose I needed. After all, I had sacrificed nearly everything—including a wife and kids—for my career. For the first time in over thirty years, I could no longer work, and had to find a new purpose for living. Before I could even get healthy, I needed a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I needed to find something I loved again. One semester during college, I had lived in a castle in the Netherlands, and had traveled all throughout Europe. However, I had never made it to Portugal—the country where my family came from. I decided that whatever it took, I was going to take a trip there.
You have to understand that I hadn’t been on a plane in four years, and was absolutely terrified. I have claustrophobia and severe social anxiety, and I was worried about trying to navigate language, culture, and transportation in a foreign country. I was concerned about breaking from my routine, and becoming disoriented in a strange and unfamiliar place. Every day, I went back and forth between thrilling excitement and absolute crippling terror.
In order to ensure that I was safe and had a good time, I knew that I had to plan this trip very carefully. I spent hours each day pouring over maps, watching travel videos, reading books, researching the culture, and carefully constructing a detailed travel itinerary. By the time I arrived in Lisbon, I knew that city like the back of my hand, and didn’t even need a map to find my way around. My trip was a resounding success! I had no problem with the flights, communicating, or staying on schedule. You see, despite the limitations of my disease, I had managed to turn an unfamiliar place INTO a familiar place, and Portugal became like a second home. Living with mental illness doesn’t mean you have to stop living, it just means you have to plan better!
When I came back from Portugal, I was a new man. I had a renewed sense of purpose, and a feeling of accomplishment. For years, I had been crippled by insecurity and low self-esteem, but after my trip, I had nothing but confidence.
The first thing I did was quit Ritalin. Next, I renewed my gym membership, and started swimming and working out 3-4 times a week. I changed my diet, and lost over 40 pounds. I worked with my doctors to get me off the more sedating medications, and found just the right combination of meds. I started walking several miles each day. And after years of being told I should volunteer, I finally did. Within weeks of my return, I began volunteering for NAMI Bangor, where I currently serve as a Media and PR Assistant, and help the President—Betsy—with outreach and advertising for all our NAMI events—including this one. I enrolled in a training program at Literacy Volunteers of Bangor, and now tutor and mentor adult literacy students, as well as work with children reading and distributing books. As a tutor, I spend hours each week creating lesson plans and instructing adult literacy students.
I also researched and learned as much as I could about Bipolar, and soon realized that having a daily schedule and routine was vital for my survival. I started planning my days, and keeping a strict calendar. Every morning, I wake up at 6 am, do yoga, make coffee, drink a smoothie, and listen to NPR. I work out, relax in the sauna, swim, eat healthy, and attend weekly NAMI meetings and weekly therapy sessions. I devote a few hours to reading and writing, and a couple hours to watching tv. I craft lesson plans, teach students, coordinate NAMI business, and volunteer on political campaigns. The point is…I stay busy. I finally got out of that basement.
I can’t tell you how much NAMI has meant to me as an organization. It literally saved my life. In group, I talk with other people suffering from mental illness, learn coping skills, get advice, and have access to helpful resources. I’ve made deep and lasting friendships, and found fellowship with others who have been where I’ve been. After years of trying to convince my parents to attend a family meeting, they finally did last month, and they loved it. It allowed them to talk with other parents, and get a little bit of perspective about me and my disease. They were finally able to vent, and to grieve, and to seek the advice of others who knew the pain of having to care for a loved one. They are now committed to attending every month, and I’m happy to say that they are here with us tonight.
Recently, I switched to a new therapist, and I’ve made more progress in two short months than I had in over four years! I cannot express how important it is to find a good therapist, and I would recommend it for everyone, whether you suffer from mental illness or not. There is something deeply profound and therapeutic about taking to someone who knows what they are doing. If you’re interested, NAMI can help you find the services you’re looking for.
I’ve also decided to move back to Boston, and return to work again. Over the next year, I plan on applying for college teaching jobs and to start directing again. However, I will never stop volunteering. It gives my life purpose.
I want to say that despite the fact that I have made significant steps in my recovery, I still have bad days. Even bad weeks. In fact, these last few weeks have been tough for me. Every so often, I go through a brief, but deep depression. There are times when I still have fleeting thoughts of suicide. When I don’t get enough sleep, I am always at risk of becoming manic. It’s important to understand that there is no cure for mental illness. Only management. Those of us in recovery are each on our own path to wellness, and realistically, that means times of dizzying success, and times of great struggle. There are relapses and stumbles along the road, and there are times when I honestly don’t know if I’m gonna make it. There is no silver bullet for mental illness, and it’s something I will live with for the rest of my life. I will always be susceptible to the darkness. However, it is treatable, and with planning and vigilance, it is possible to lead a healthy and productive life. It takes work. A LOT of work. But as they say in AA, it works, if you work it.
Since being diagnosed, it has taken a lot of courage for me to admit that I live with mental illness. At first, I was scared and ashamed, and didn’t tell anyone. Over the years, I’ve slowly “come out” to friends and family, and three months ago, I revealed my illness on Facebook, where I’ve received nothing but love and support. Tonight is the first time I have ever publicly spoken about my disease. But it won’t be my last. It’s time we end the stigma of mental illness, and I am personally committed to a life of advocacy. Most people had no idea that I was suffering in silence. And that’s the point. That’s why I’m here tonight. And that’s why I will continue to speak all over the state and the nation, to small groups and large, to community organizations and in front of legislators who have the power to fund mental health care and reform our broken system.
But I’m also here to ask for YOUR help. If you’re afflicted with mental illness, I encourage you to seek therapy, and perhaps attend a NAMI support group. If you suffer in silence, as I once did, I would ask you to consider being open and honest about your condition, and living out loud and proud. It’s not easy. There is still much work to be done. But the more of us who come forward with our stories, the more people will realize how common mental illness truly is, and the easier it will become to accept. The more we normalize mental illness, the closer we get to treating it as you would any other disease of the body. Like every great social justice issue, SILENCE IS DEADLY, and we have lost too many people to mental illness. Every day, in this country, we lose 22 veterans to suicide and undiagnosed PTSD. Over 40,00 people take their own lives every year in this country. For those of you who have friends and family who suffer—and I guarantee you do—I would ask that you educate yourself about their disease, and look for ways that you can advocate for all of us. This is an epidemic, and we need your voice and support. It starts as small as offering aid to a friend in crisis, but it doesn’t have to end there. We here at NAMI have several resources to help, and I encourage you to seek us out. You’ve already made the first step in coming here, and I thank you for listening to my story.
In the last two weeks, I have been to a Clinton rally with Bernie Sanders and a Trump rally with Rudy Giuliani and Donald Trump, and I must say that I am really frightened and saddened by the state of our nation. We live in two different Americas, and I cannot help but think that perhaps it would have been best if Lincoln hadn’t preserved the nation. What would have happened if we had not fought The Civil War? I know that it’s practically blasphemous or treasonous to even suggest such a thing. And I also know that even with the Mason-Dixon line, there still was no easy way to divide the nation then, and would be nearly impossible today. These days, we have red states next to blue states, and then all kinds of purple states, and then within states, we have large swaths of red rural areas, and dense blue urban areas. Undoubtedly, it would be impossible to somehow divide the country along ideological lines. It’s just not logistically possible. However, in some ways — and on some days — it seems like it would be a hell of a lot easier than healing the divide in this country, which seems ominously close to tearing us asunder.
Art is its own reward.
I was just having a conversation with my friend about how unbelievable Donald Trump is in denying he said and did certain things, that are so easily proven otherwise. Like…um…there’s a paper, video, and audio trail, sir. Nope. Doesn’t faze him. Some might think that he is completely disassociated from reality. I’d like to think that, but I think it’s even worse. At least in that case, he’d have an excuse beyond just being a complete narcissist.
To me, I find it unfathomable that someone who is so skilled at using social media and the press to his advantage, could be so defiant in the face of demonstrable video and audio that is irrefutable and damning. I don’t think he’s disassociated from reality. I believe he knows that cameras have caught him in lies and ensnared him in inconsistencies. I just think he’s a man that has gotten his way his entire life, and flies in the face of reason and doubt, that would most certainly make the rest of us apologetic and contrite. His reversals and refusals would cripple anyone else, but in Trump, they only make him MORE resolute and defiant. He ALWAYS doubles down. He has such a force of will, that he is defiant in the face of inarguable truth. I have never seen an actual human being demonstrate the concept of Hubris more than Trump — like you would find in a Greek Tragedy. He puts Oedipus to shame. He puts Nixon to shame. He is so proud and singularly focused, he doesn’t need physics and reality to get in his way. It’s stunning.
Donald Trump is so convinced of his own greatness, he honestly believes that he can will facts and evidence out of existence. He believes his cult of personality can honestly erase all of his many flaws and inconsistencies. And why not? Despite a media that constantly point out his many gaffes, his own supporters see him as flawless and always consistent in reinforcing his message of hate. Those who love him refuse to hold him accountable, and therefore, he never has to contemplate change, self-reflection, or regret. As he has said repeatedly, “I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose voters.” I honestly believe there could be video of him raping, torturing, or killing someone, and he would probably still not lose any voters. It’s unprecedented.
Trump has the ability to make US all feel crazy for trying to use HIS words against him, and prove that it’s not us who are insane. My friend, Tammi, put it best: “It’s like Donald Trump is Gaslighting the entire nation.” Yup. That’s exactly it.
Have you ever thought about the similarities between Colin Kaepernick and Captain America, who are both referred to as Cap (Kap)? Stay with me. I know it’s a stretch, but if you’ve seen Civil War, you know that Captain America defies popular public opinion, and defends a known criminal, openly defying Congress’s call to register all superheroes and “profile” America’s defenders. His opinion is not a popular one, and this once popular superhero becomes labeled a traitor and demonized by a large portion of America. However, he does have his commited defenders, and this is why the superheroes are split, and the reason the film and comic story arc is called “Civil War.” How appropriate.
Colin Kaepernick was once a hero of the NFL, and he has decided to stand up to police brutality by taking a knee. He has had an overwhelming majority of negative press, and people calling him a traitor and un-American, but he also has a large group of supporters, not unlike Captain America.
Whatever you may think of Colin Kaepernick or Captain America, they both represent the best of America. It just depends on what you see when you look at our nation. Do you see it as a perfect and flawless nation that we should make great “again” or a great nation in need of improvement, and the ongoing effort to “form a more perfect union” — for every American?
I think they are both superheroes, and saying I support Colin Kaepernick and Black Lives Matter does not mean I hate cops or don’t support “all lives” or “Blue Lives.” 151 years later, we are still fighting the Civil War.
Photo Credit: Drawing by Dave Rappoccio
Today is the Millionth Member Celebration of AmeriCorps National Service, celebrating its one millionth member serving communities in need all over this great nation. AmeriCorps engages more than 75,000 Americans in intensive service each year at nonprofits, schools, public agencies, and community and faith-based groups across the country.
When I was 24 years old, I was living in Los Angeles, and feeling miserable about my life and my failed acting career. I was working at a bank, and trying to find acting work, with very little luck. I felt so selfish and unfulfilled, and was volunteering my time at a soup kitchen just to try and at least help someone else — if I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to give back, and finally made the difficult decision to leave Hollywood, and put my acting dreams aside…at least for a bit. I decided that I wanted to live a life of service. Three months later, I enlisted in AmeriCorps National Service, and was assigned to an inner-city high school in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
The year I served in AmeriCorps was one of the best years of my life. I tutored and mentored at-risk inner city kids, and at the end of the year, I wrote and directed a play with them for my community service project. It dealt with racism, sexism, homophobia, and other social issues. It had a huge impact on the community! Many of my students’ parents had never even seen a play in their lives before! They were incredibly warm, and receptive, and some of those students still tell me how much that moment meant to them. It was unforgettable. It was also the first play I ever directed. It wouldn’t be my last.
The school was so impressed with my service, they hired me to teach English and Theatre the very next year. I went back to school, and earned a second degree in Theatre Education. I went on to teach high school for four more years, and later, I taught at a university. I eventually went on to earn my Master of Fine Arts degree — in Directing — something I had learned to love during my year of service.
AmeriCorps changed my life, folks! And I’m not even exaggerating. I may never have gone back to school, and gone on to a life in education. I may never have discovered my love for directing, and gone on to get my MFA. I may never have had that close contact with the African American community, and learned to love that culture — for all it’s triumphs and challenges. I also made some best friends for life. AmeriCorps gave me the experience and tools I needed to be an educator and director, and to live a life of service. I still teach and direct, and perhaps even more importantly, I am still an active volunteer in my community. I currently volunteer as a Media/ PR/ Marketing Assistant for the National Alliance on Mental Illness, tutor and mentor adult literacy students, and work on several local and state political campaigns. AmeriCorps helps change lives…starting with your own!
If you want to give back, and live a life of service, I would suggest you consider serving in AmeriCorps for 1-2 years. Apply today!
To apply, please go to www.nationalservice.gov/programs/americorps.
I’ve heard many people preemptively declare Hillary Clinton the presumptive winner of tonight’s debate against Republican nominee, Donald Trump. Many view her intelligence, grasp of policy, superior debating skills, and Presidential demeanor to be so vastly superior to his, that there is no way he could possibly compete with her on stage.
After all, Donald Trump is easily baited, and is completely unstable and unpredictable when faced with adversity and challenges on stage and on the campaign trail. He is known for his outspoken and unapologetic bigotry, misogyny, sexism, racism, xenophobia, Islamophobia, and many other seemingly insurmountable deficits and short-fallings. Donald Trump is perhaps the most publicly reviled Presidential candidate in history, and one would think, the easiest target to take down. Simply put, Donald Trump has been his own worst enemy, and in any other campaign, it would have taken only a handful of the gaffes he has made to end his run, but not so with Trump.
When Ronald Reagan was President, his critics and detractors called him “the Teflon president”- a nickname that was coined by Congresswoman Patricia Schroeder, reflecting how a plethora of scandals surrounding his presidency seemed to have no effect on his individual popularity with the public. Seemingly, nothing could stick to President Reagan, and he left office as wildly popular – if not more – than when he came in. If Reagan was considered the “Teflon President,” than surely Donald Trump has been the “Teflon Candidate.” Despite a 24/7 constant media obsession with every boneheaded, racist, and dangerous thing he has ever said and done, Donald Trump still managed to beat out 17 other Republican hopefuls, gained millions of rabid supporters, won over thousands of independents and disenfranchised voters, and closed the gap between him and Hillary Clinton. Currently, the two are neck and neck in the polls. Trump has done the unthinkable: he has used the hateful rhetoric of an authoritarian demagogue and fascist to demonize huge swaths of the American public, and used divisive language to incite violence and hatred, YET still managed to win over nearly half the electorate. This hatemonger is actually a viable candidate for President of the United States – arguably, the most powerful and influential job on the planet.
Donald Trump’s supporters admit that he sticks his foot in his mouth repeatedly, although they admire him for “telling it like it is” and for speaking the truth to power. They want a candidate who is willfully Anti-Political Correctness, and who flies in the face of traditional politics and convenient policy soundbites. They want someone they perceive to be like them, and Hillary Clinton is decidedly NOT that.
For those on the Left and in support of Hillary Clinton, it would seem that she has all the preternatural abilities and advantages going into tonight’s debate. She has been active in politics for over 30 years, and has spent a lifetime in service to the poor, to children, and to middle class families everywhere. She is the former First Lady and spouse of a former President, and knows the workings of the White House and Capitol Hill. Clinton is an experienced ex-Senator and former Secretary of State, who had very high favorability ratings while in office. Hillary also has a wonkish understanding of policy and the nuances of Government. If anything, Hillary Clinton may be the most capable politician to ever run for the Office. Her grasp of policy and governance is stunning, even to the most veteran of politicians. She also has a practical knowledge of how Washington works, and knows full well what it means to collaborate and work across the aisle. For good or for bad, Hillary Clinton is a career politician and a Washington insider, who has an infinite number of connections and alliances. She also has many enemies and detractors, but what politician doesn’t? It is undeniable that Mrs. Clinton knows how to get things done, and possesses a good deal of political capital. Hillary Clinton may be one of the most experienced, intelligent, and capable people to ever run for the office of the Presidency.
And yet…and yet…she may still lose. Even despite the enormous deficits of her polarizing challenger, and all her many strengths and capabilities, there is still something undeniably looming underneath Hillary Clinton’s Presidential run. There are still huge obstacles to her being elected. It’s something we’ve heard about for months, but it’s something that will inevitably rear its ugly head in the debates specifically. You see, it’s not her grasp of facts and figures, Hillary’s comprehension of policy, or her innate ability to debate that worries me. Clinton obviously has all those strengths in spades, and perhaps in a normal debate, against a more traditional candidate, those would all be huge assets. Yet, even against a more orthodox candidate, as a woman, I still think Hillary has the unenviable task of having to win over people who society has predisposed to dislike her. Her intellect, poise, and debating skills have NEVER been the problem with Hillary Clinton. IT’S ALL ABOUT LIKABILITY.
Men are praised for power, and women are praised for how they look, and for being demure. If she attacks too much or gets too animated, she is labeled a “crazed and shrill bitch.” If she lays back and debates the finer nuances of policy, she’s an “egghead wonk, and completely unrelatable.” And the worst possible scenario is if she appears wonkish and elitist, and seems to be patronizing and haughty at Trump’s inevitable ignorance and perceived stupidity. Remember Al Gore’s loud sighs in his debates against George W. Bush? He was expressing the frustration the rest of us Liberals were feeling at Bush’s lack of policy knowledge and superficial understanding of government. Gore was sighing because he was a smart and capable politician, with years of experience and a firm grasp of how to govern this country. Gore was sighing for all of us, and for everyone who recognized that Bush was simply unsuited for the job of President. Yet, as we soon realized, his justified sighs were patronizing and haughty, and only served to alienate the public and humanize George W. Bush. Those sighs not only made Gore unlikable, they made Bush imminently likable and avuncular. As was oft repeated, many Americans felt that they would enjoy sitting down and drinking a beer with Bush. He was one of them. Those sighs ultimately humanized Bush, and made him instantly relatable. Well, those sighs would be even worse coming from a woman.
I hate to say it, but I think Hillary is — and always has been — in a lose-lose situation. She’s a woman, and sadly, judged by an irrational and woefully sexist patriarchal standard of how a woman should behave. But more so, whereas men are judged positively and worthwhile for being aggressive and confident, women are seen as “bitches” – or worse – for showing the exact same temerity. On the other hand, if she comes across as too wonky and knowledgable, she’s simply a “know-it-all nerd” who nobody likes. If a smart and capable man like Al Gore had trouble seeming relatable, comfortable, and likable, it is a thousand times worse for ANY woman, and especially a woman like Hillary Clinton – with all her perceived baggage – real or imagined.
I wouldn’t have necessarily chosen Hillary Clinton to be our nominee, but I like Hillary. I think she is deeply flawed, and has made some catastrophic mistakes, but which of us hasn’t? What politician doesn’t come with baggage? I liked Bernie Sanders, but Hillary is much more electable in today’s political climate. Even if I don’t always think she represents herself well, I know Hillary Clinton is smart, capable, experienced, and passionate about the same issues I care about. But sadly, I also think she’s in a practically no-win scenario when debating this cocky sociopath. I do think Hillary Clinton may narrowly win the Presidency, but in many ways, she will never be “America’s President.” As you know, no candidate will ever receive the mandate of the vast majority of the people ever again, as was sometimes the case in the past. Our society is currently too divided and polarized. However, Hillary Clinton, if elected, will undoubtedly be the most unpopular candidate to ever win the Presidency. If she can nearly be beaten by a man as grotesque and deplorable as Donald Trump, there is something clearly deeper than her past mistakes in Benghazi and email servers at work. This is more than emails and Whitewater. Hillary Clinton is a woman, and although she may become the first female President of the United States, she will never “WIN” a debate. She can’t. We won’t allow her too. It’s not Hillary Clinton I’m worried about tonight. It’s everybody else.