Opinion vs. bigotry -- and heartbreak
Earlier today, I posted about Referendum 74 here in Washington state, which is an attempt to repeal same-sex marriage. I said, "Most of my local friends live in Western Washington, and we have a habit of poo-pooing the conservative, Eastern side of the state. But these people are serious about their bigotry, even--especially--because they don't see it as bigotry, and they'll come out in throngs to vote against same-sex marriage. So will conservatives here in Western Washington."
Elsewhere, in response, an acquaintance of mine said, "You know what the worst kind of bigotry is? The kind where certain people call other people 'bigots' because they dare to have a different viewpoint than their own."
I answered in the following way: A clear distinction needs to be made between opinion and bigotry. On the one hand, you and I may differ about whether we like onions. I can respect that you don't like onions and you can respect that I like onions. That's a difference of opinion. Where it stops being opinion and starts being bigotry is when you decide that I can't have onions because you don't like onions and you pass laws to stop me from eating them. It starts being bigotry when you decide that, because I'm an onion-lover, it should be illegal for me to marry another onion lover and you work to pass a law to that effect. Or maybe I should wear an onion patch on my coat so everyone knows I'm an onion lover. Or maybe I should have to ride in the back of the bus so you can't smell the onions on my breath.
He posted in response saying that I had it backwards, that by trying to shove my onion-love down his throat, and by not respecting his right to fight back against my onion love, I was a bigot.
This is an intelligent man. I've seen him speak intelligently about science fiction, about writing, about the business he's in. So to see this kind of thinking just stymies me. He believes that this is a difference of opinion. He doesn't see how trying legislate away someone else's rights is bigotry. And he thinks I'm a bigot because I think he's wrong. And he thinks I'm a bigot because of my onion patch remark.
I don't understand this. If you can legislate away someone else's right to marry, then you can legislate who gets to live in one place but not another, who gets to do business in one place but not another, who gets to work in one place but not another. Don't they see where this leads? Don't they see what it means? If they'll do it to gay people, they'll do it to brown people and Jewish people and yellow people and people who don't believe in God, and on and on. What's worse is that I like this person but I can't be friends with someone who thinks any of this is OK.
I'm heartbroken to learn that this is how he thinks, because I can't--I can't--associate with someone who thinks this way. Why? Because there was a time when they came for the Jews and said, "You can't live here, you can't work here. We say so." That's what's happening here, now.
At Passover we're taught that each of us must behave as if we ourselves were taken out of Egypt personally. The metaphor extends to all of life: put yourself in someone else's shoes and live mindful of that awareness. If I put myself in his shoes, what I see is things changing that I can't control and acting out of fear to control and stop that change. At the same time, the things that are changing don't affect how I live and they give others rights and freedoms that they don't have right now. Doesn't that make the world a generally safer place? Doesn't it make it a better, less hurtful place?
I don't understand this. And I don't understand how he can't see what's happening here.
Elsewhere, in response, an acquaintance of mine said, "You know what the worst kind of bigotry is? The kind where certain people call other people 'bigots' because they dare to have a different viewpoint than their own."
I answered in the following way: A clear distinction needs to be made between opinion and bigotry. On the one hand, you and I may differ about whether we like onions. I can respect that you don't like onions and you can respect that I like onions. That's a difference of opinion. Where it stops being opinion and starts being bigotry is when you decide that I can't have onions because you don't like onions and you pass laws to stop me from eating them. It starts being bigotry when you decide that, because I'm an onion-lover, it should be illegal for me to marry another onion lover and you work to pass a law to that effect. Or maybe I should wear an onion patch on my coat so everyone knows I'm an onion lover. Or maybe I should have to ride in the back of the bus so you can't smell the onions on my breath.
He posted in response saying that I had it backwards, that by trying to shove my onion-love down his throat, and by not respecting his right to fight back against my onion love, I was a bigot.
This is an intelligent man. I've seen him speak intelligently about science fiction, about writing, about the business he's in. So to see this kind of thinking just stymies me. He believes that this is a difference of opinion. He doesn't see how trying legislate away someone else's rights is bigotry. And he thinks I'm a bigot because I think he's wrong. And he thinks I'm a bigot because of my onion patch remark.
I don't understand this. If you can legislate away someone else's right to marry, then you can legislate who gets to live in one place but not another, who gets to do business in one place but not another, who gets to work in one place but not another. Don't they see where this leads? Don't they see what it means? If they'll do it to gay people, they'll do it to brown people and Jewish people and yellow people and people who don't believe in God, and on and on. What's worse is that I like this person but I can't be friends with someone who thinks any of this is OK.
I'm heartbroken to learn that this is how he thinks, because I can't--I can't--associate with someone who thinks this way. Why? Because there was a time when they came for the Jews and said, "You can't live here, you can't work here. We say so." That's what's happening here, now.
At Passover we're taught that each of us must behave as if we ourselves were taken out of Egypt personally. The metaphor extends to all of life: put yourself in someone else's shoes and live mindful of that awareness. If I put myself in his shoes, what I see is things changing that I can't control and acting out of fear to control and stop that change. At the same time, the things that are changing don't affect how I live and they give others rights and freedoms that they don't have right now. Doesn't that make the world a generally safer place? Doesn't it make it a better, less hurtful place?
I don't understand this. And I don't understand how he can't see what's happening here.