Election 2006: The Day After
Come, let us reason together...
As a young woman, I have taken comfort in the universal law of karma, both in victory and in defeat. Those who have wronged me suffer from its effects; when I wrong others, it is karma that metes out justice. It makes perfect sense.
For the past decade I've been karma's champion. This was because I was the perpetual victim. As a woman, as an American of African descent, as a Detroiter, and as an evangelical, I felt that those who had wronged my group ought to pay. I carried that attitude into other areas of my life as well. I had a college roommate that stole from me and bullied the entire household, and when I heard she was in a mental institution, I ticked that off as karma at work. I had ideological differences with people in academic, political, local civic, and fandom contexts, and I figured that eventually karma would whip their you-know-whats as well. I honestly believed that anyone who transgressed another should be beaten -- whether literally or figuratively -- as if they stole something. (I confess to having, by nature, a very dogmatic, essentializing personality. It is something that I am working on overcoming.)
These days, I'm not so convinced that karma does makes the world go 'round. Karma is a brutal and unforgiving principle. Although one gets satisfaction from seeing it at work, it is a primal satisfaction, akin to the bloodlust of the mob. It does not assuage anger or hatred. Depending upon how it is meted out, the instruments of karma often find themselves on the receiving end of it. It does not play favorites, nor make allowances for intent or contrition.
But there is something higher than karma. My far-distant ancestors called it ubuntu.
My spiritual brothers and sisters call it grace.
For once, I would hope that my fellow progressives would not follow the script. The future of humankind, if we choose to have a future, will depend upon truth and reconciliation, not polemics and rhetoric. Someone has to begin. And taking that first step is painful. It may come at significant personal and social risk. But it must be done. We must beware brushing with single strokes. We must, even in victory, offer the olive branch across the aisle, forgive and ask for forgiveness for our failure to serve the American people, and say, "Come, let us reason together..."
We must relearn our ways of talking and walking together if we are to survive the 21st century.
As a young woman, I have taken comfort in the universal law of karma, both in victory and in defeat. Those who have wronged me suffer from its effects; when I wrong others, it is karma that metes out justice. It makes perfect sense.
For the past decade I've been karma's champion. This was because I was the perpetual victim. As a woman, as an American of African descent, as a Detroiter, and as an evangelical, I felt that those who had wronged my group ought to pay. I carried that attitude into other areas of my life as well. I had a college roommate that stole from me and bullied the entire household, and when I heard she was in a mental institution, I ticked that off as karma at work. I had ideological differences with people in academic, political, local civic, and fandom contexts, and I figured that eventually karma would whip their you-know-whats as well. I honestly believed that anyone who transgressed another should be beaten -- whether literally or figuratively -- as if they stole something. (I confess to having, by nature, a very dogmatic, essentializing personality. It is something that I am working on overcoming.)
These days, I'm not so convinced that karma does makes the world go 'round. Karma is a brutal and unforgiving principle. Although one gets satisfaction from seeing it at work, it is a primal satisfaction, akin to the bloodlust of the mob. It does not assuage anger or hatred. Depending upon how it is meted out, the instruments of karma often find themselves on the receiving end of it. It does not play favorites, nor make allowances for intent or contrition.
But there is something higher than karma. My far-distant ancestors called it ubuntu.
My spiritual brothers and sisters call it grace.
For once, I would hope that my fellow progressives would not follow the script. The future of humankind, if we choose to have a future, will depend upon truth and reconciliation, not polemics and rhetoric. Someone has to begin. And taking that first step is painful. It may come at significant personal and social risk. But it must be done. We must beware brushing with single strokes. We must, even in victory, offer the olive branch across the aisle, forgive and ask for forgiveness for our failure to serve the American people, and say, "Come, let us reason together..."
We must relearn our ways of talking and walking together if we are to survive the 21st century.