It would be safest if you ran

It would be safest if you ran

There is a focus on borders and walls in these current times, and consequently, a rise in xenophobia.

Or is it because of xenophobia that there is a focus on borders and walls? Populism has always been around, but the sentiments that elected the current administration are the result of a “chicken or egg” conundrum:

Are people scared because the world is scary, or is the world scary because people are scared?

The rhetoric itself has changed: The denial of the United States as a “country of immigrants” and open borders has been the guiding force behind recent policy in the White House. The conversation is not about coming together as much as it is keeping out (anything/something) unfamiliar. The notion of community becoming something more defined: who belongs, and who doesn’t.

Perhaps it was always there, as has been suggested by the Washington Post’s America has always been hostile to immigrants, among others. The United States of America has always had a nativist streak – a populism as inward-looking as today’s “America First” mantra.

But people can’t really be to blame for feeling scared, can they? When something terrible happens? When lives are lost? Especially when they feel powerless to do anything about it: As humans we pride ourselves on our autonomy; our ability to be in control, to conquer, to rise above. We are in control. We need to be in control. And when we can’t give the enemy a face…

So, a face has been given: Muslims. Illegal Aliens and Welfare Queens. Them. It’s not an abstract problem, under Donald Trump’s presidency, it’s a tangible one, and there they are. Right there in front of you. Killing people, Taking their jobs. Changing things.

It doesn’t matter, of course, that there is no data or evidence to support the negativity of these sentiments: It’s what is felt by the general population at large that matters most.

The problem with digital connectedness

There is a barrier of computer screens between us and the rest of the world. We have that filter to keep us from connecting – and why would we? We’ve learned both how big, and how small, the world is, so why would we waste time with the parts that don’t directly affect us?

But then they do (affect us). And then it spreads.

We start to feel as though everything we read is going on next door; right in front of us. As the world grows smaller we ourselves feel larger within it. Bangladesh is but a stone’s throw away. I could bike to Istanbul. Those people killed by Isis in…? I knew them, we say. Or someone just like them. I can feel the pain of their family and their community, because it could have been my family and community.

We change our profile pictures on Facebook with borders and “Never Forget” insignia. We offer “…thoughts and prayers!” to those suffering, remembering that, yes, we are all in this together.

Emoji fists in the air, tears down cheeks of profile pictures, social media solidarity.

But what could bring us together (and most certainly often does), however, also makes us distrustful. Just as we feel connected to the victims, we realize how close the attackers are as well. and who they might be. These are people. We are people. They did it to them, they could do it to us. The world isn’t such a big place anymore to hide in, to keep at an arm’s length, to only understand through books and films.

And then what?

We try and make a place for ourselves. Sitting behind the computer screen we start telling the world why such safety is necessary; why steps need to be taken to protect ourselves and our friends, family, community. Not only our solidarity but also our outrage is reflected in our social media personalities.

We’re forced to confront the good, the bad, and the ugly all at once.

Is it easier to buy into the Donald Trump, the Geert Wilders, the Nigel Farage, and Marine le Pen rhetoric? Why would we not put up physical borders, even as the theoretical borders continue to erode? Why would we not establish ourselves as one thing, retreat into the familiar, and condemn anything that’s other? They are not us, people say. We are not them. No. We are proud in our heritage. We would never seek to change…

What exactly?

The purity? The color? The tradition? The beliefs?

In a country like the United States, based exactly on the singular lack of these things (or not lack, but rather the amalgam of them; the many different cultures, countries, religions, ideals that have come together as many parts in one), what exactly is at risk?

It is certainly not some other group of people, outside of those in power. In the US, it has been – for the few hundred years of history – white, cisgendered former-Europeans in power. And, with a certain sense of irony, that is the very group now so worried about usurpers, aggressors, oh-my-god change.

Of course it is: Those in power don’t want to give it up, and certainly don’t want to think that it was ever wrong for them, ever not moral and righteous, ever not “Manifest Destiny,” for them to have been in power (often perceived as simply being what is, and what they are) in the first place.

It would be safest if you ran, America's scared and angry populism, TiltMN

Oh, great and scared America:

An older man sits in a foldout chair, watching the events of the annual Christmas dinner unfold around him.

A younger man (his niece’s college boyfriend) leans against the wall with his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his hair pushed back as if naturally windblown (too much hair product, he knows), and a not-yet-tarnished sense of self-worth and ego (no idea too big, nothing impossible, hyperbolic statements to start the conversation).

College had ruined him, this boy. Taught him that “ideas” and “discussion” hold more power than the clubs of cave men (still at the core of modern man) and the AK-47s and suicide bombings of terrorists far away, and those so very close.

Optimism is a dirty word –ugh- because it’s walls that keep you safe. It’s practicality that makes you prosper.

What was it that the tortoise said? “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Right.

This generation of hares is getting ahead of themselves. Jumping around the room, excited by these notions and theses and the possibilities of change (growth) and fucking (oh, but how he misses fucking. It is only sex that he has now, and not very often) and enjoying it, smooth and supple and fueled by the light; the brightness of that same ego…

But no.

These things are not real, tangible. They are superficial.

The windows, wrapped in plastic so as to keep out the winter cold and keep the heating bill low? Those are real.

And the Chevrolet out back, gears and levers, and new tread on new tires and a gas tank that never drops below a quarter full. That is real. Run your fingers along the hood, you’ll see. Feel it for yourself. It’s smooth. Real as any woman. The future might be bright, young boy, but not as bright as polished headlights cutting through the dark winter woods after 9pm…

And this. This conversation. This discussion in abstracts. In “If’s” and “If not’s” with no talk of “When,” or “Will,” and certainly not… “How.”

What are we talking about if not the world right now, today?

And he thinks: We need to be safe. Me, and mine. What are you saying that could possibly be more important than that? My children and grandchildren. Safe. Like I was.

Safe. Those were the days.

Golden fields in autumn. Holidays that actually meant something. Dining together as a family, the whole family, together. Remember? Remember?

It gets harder every day. People telling you to forget; to forget these moments; to leave them in the past where they belong. Because it wasn’t as good as you say it is, they say. You’re wrong, they say. You’re wrong for believing the things you believe, and for doing the things you have always done and the people before you did as well.

Well. They’re the ones who are wrong.

It was simple, then. It can, and it will, be that way again. Even surrounded by people who believe that “ideas” will save the world.

I can’t make you happy, he whispers to himself, but I can keep you safe.

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It would be safest if you ran