From Nov. 4, 2018
Discrimination: a short essay
I was born into a Jewish home.
Currently there are thousands upon thousands of people in this country who hate me for what I am. They do not know me. They have never met me. But that is inconsequential to their hatred. I've experienced this hatred numerous times throughout my 62 years. And I have become accustomed to it.
I am not alone.
We live in a country today where the president regularly fans the flames of bigotry and hatred. He tells us to be afraid. That "they" are the enemy. That "they" are coming to get us. His followers believe him, harboring animosity towards people whose names they don’t know and whom they’ve never met. They identify those they hate solely by their surnames; by where they pray; by the color of their skin; by who they’re with; by where they're from; and by their politics.
The news of this past week should have been a wake-up call to all those who tried to convince us that this behavior would pass. That it was just a strategy or tactic he used to get himself elected. But the campaign never stopped. The fear-mongering, targeting and blaming never ceased. We are all living with the result.
And it's not going away any time soon. He has the unwavering support of powerful right-wing media that regularly distorts facts and misrepresents truths in order to instill fear and stoke resentment 24/7.
Real news doesn't harm. It informs.
We, the citizens of The United States of America, have an opportunity on Tuesday to shout loudly and clearly that this hatred does not define us. It is not who we are. We will not acquiesce to it. It is not who we will become. On Tuesday, voters in this country will express their acceptance or rejection of those who use hatred to advance their own agenda. His name may not be on the ballot. But the names of his supporters and enablers are.
I am too often reminded these days of the poem entitled “First They Came” written by Martin Niemöller, a German pastor who was disgusted that the German citizenry would not speak in opposition as their neighbors were being carted off by the Nazi regime. It ends with the words: "Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me."
On Tuesday, please speak for those who cannot, or dare not, speak up for themselves.
Please vote.
This is your chance to speak for everyone.
