No Harmless Joke

We used the f-word all the time. We threw it at each other like teasing darts, meant to sting and leave a mark. We also knew other people who used the f-word to make others feel less than human, a filthy sub-species that wasn't worthy to bask in the same circles or sunlight as them. 

That may seem dramatic, but it was more than true, going all the way back to grade school for me and my friends. The usage became especially prevalent in junior high and high school. It continued for years after high school as well. It was about men minimizing other men, to demasculinize each other. When we used it against each other, we never thought about its origin or why it was ultimately offensive. And when it was between us, we were only joking with each other. 

It was only a harmless joke. C'mon.

The f-word I'm talking about is faggot. Including any derivative or tangential equivalent like "you're so gay".

Let's go back in time. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the morpheme comes from the French fagot, which means a small bundle of bound-together sticks to be used as kindling. 

By the mid-16th century, the word had become associated with the burning alive of heretics and was used in callous phrases such as "fry a faggot." 

By the 1800s, the term was also being used to refer derogatorily to women. The modern term may have come from these origins, but the etymology is in dispute.

The Oxford English Dictionary cites a 1914 reference in a book of criminal slang as the first modern American use of faggot as a slur for a homosexual male.

Today the term is listed in most every dictionary as derogatory or offensive.

When I read about the high school incident in Visalia where I grew up, I was disappointed and angered. It was my rival high school when I was a teenager, but that was decades ago and nothing like this happened then that I remember. 

A group of senior students, some who were part of the ASB student leadership, spelled out a homophobic slur with the t-shirts they were wearing. 

According to the news reporting, the picture of them doing this was taken during school hours, immediately following a senior class photo shoot. In the senior photo, the shirts spelled out "Class of 2026 Always Legit," before they rearranged the letters to say the derogatory word.

It seems to have been prompted by the fact that the seniors were leading an eight-grade orientation on when some ASB leaders reacted to two middle-school boys holding hands. Then later in the day, a small group of eight ASB students – male and female, made shirts to spell out “2 FAG6OTS” while seating next to each other on the bleachers.

Student leadership did this. During school hours. In front of the entire student body, teachers, and administration. 

The Visalia Unified Superintendent said, "This is unacceptable behavior and this matter is being thoroughly investigated and appropriate action will be taken."

He added, "Every student deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued on our campuses. We will continue working to ensure our schools are places where dignity, belonging, and accountability guide our actions."

I also read that one of the students' parents was quoted anonymously that "we will deal with them; they didn't mean any harm".

I ask the parents of these kids -- then why did they do it in the first place? Why did they think it was okay? The problem with privileged circular logic is that some of them probably do believe it was a harmless joke. 

When some of my friends in high school egged another friend's house, him and his parents were very hurt. My parents were very upset and disappointed in us. I was upset and disappointed in us. But some of the other fathers didn't care and chalked it up as harmless teen fun. 

Back in the day, my friends and I also rationalized it as harmless joking amongst ourselves. We thought we were pretty good guys who just teased each other relentlessly. It took many years after high school for us to understand how cruel and offensive it was using gay slurs, ethnic slurs, female slurs, etc., and we finally changed our behavior. We never spelled out a slur with our t-shirts at a school function, but that didn't make our behavior any less hurtful if others knew what we said.

Many of us went on to have families of our own. My wife and I have two daughters, both in high school now, and our youngest identifies as non-binary and is gay. Something they knew since they were in the 4th grade. Something we've accepted fully because we love our children and fully support them in being who they are and becoming happy and healthy adults. I believe that's true with most parents. 

We now live in a country whose leadership openly and unapologetically practices discrimination, humiliation, cruelty, misogyny, and harassment of historically marginalized populations. Masked in the guise of equality and unity. Thankfully most of us pushing back against the offensive and dehumanizing rhetoric and actions.

So again, I ask the parents of the students who spelled out the homophobic slur at the school function, and the students themselves who did it (some of whom were ASB leaders): Why did they/you do it in the first place? Why did they/you think it was okay? What should the consequences be? What's the learning opportunity here, the empathic growth opportunity for all involved? 

It's no harmless joke, kids. Everyone deserves to feel respected, protected, and valued. Even those we don't like and disagree with. No one deserves their humanity and rights minimized based on gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, or religion. As the parents and the adults in the room, we can and should do better for our kids. For all the kids. 

Finding Joy

I knew immediately she wasn't a conference attendee. Not so much based on what she wore, clothes I remember seeing at Grateful Dead shows in the late 1980's. Colorful, loose-fitting shirt and pants. A little dingy, but no body odor smell. She had a small, kind face, tan and leathered, but I assumed she was only in her forties. She also didn't have on a conference badge, so that was telling. 

She stopped in from our table in the exhibit space eyeing the LEGO figures we had on display. They were part of our fun giveaway; attendees could build their ideal job candidate with the Legos and then we'd talk with them about optimizing their candidate and experience. Our company, Survale, helps companies improve their recruiting, hiring, and retention, through candidate and employee experience feedback. 

"How's the conference going for you so far?" I asked. I instantly felt bad asking her that, knowing that she wasn't attending.

"Great," she said. 

I wasn't surprised she said this. She was eating one of the tapioca deserts they had served at lunch. 

"The tapioca's good, isn't it," I said.

"Yes. Can I build one?" she said, referring to the LEGO people. 

"Of course," I said. 

My co-workers engaged with her as well as she built her first LEGO person. We all knew she wasn't attending the conference.

One of them asked her about the conference, and she said, "Oh, I'm not attending. I was just walking down the beach and saw this event. I came over and had some lunch and now I'm building a Lego person."

As she built her person, her face awakened with determined joy. There weren't a lot of parts to build these Lego people, but she methodically took her time, selecting and re-selecting the legs, body, head, hair, and accessory the figure would hold. 

She finished and I told her it looked great. Then she asked, "Can I build another one?"

"Sure, please do," I said. 

More determined joy. The exhibiting part of the conference was almost over, so we gave her the space and the time to build. 

One of our team asked to take her picture putting the Legos together. Her joy drained away and she looked concerned. "No, I don't think so," she said. But she ultimately agreed when she didn't have to look directly at the phone camera, that it was just for our marketing team.

When she was done with her second figure, she started to walk away, paused, her eyes fixated on the Legos still, and then turned to face us again.

"Can I just do one more?" she asked.

"Of course," I said. 

After the stranger left our table, I realized I never asked what her name was, nor did I share mine. I knew nothing else about her -- whether she was unemployed and/or unhoused; whether she had a criminal past or not; whether she was alone or had her own family; whether she had physical and/or mental health issues. 

What I did know is that for a few moments, she found intentional joy in putting together the LEGO people, and we encouraged her to do it, without shame or judgement. A simple moment of empathic humanity.

I also knew she was someone's daughter, and that made me think about our own daughters, and their adult lives that have yet to unfold. Supposedly humans make over 35,000 decisions each day equating to nearly a billion decisions in a lifetime. Because adulting is hard, we've encouraged our kids to consciously manifest a happy and healthy life. But there will unforeseen circumstances to deal with and poor decisions will be made along the way. Hopefully fewer and farther in between than we experienced, especially me. 

If there's one thing I believe we've imparted on them to date, it's finding joy in everything they do. Always. Intentionally. Unequivocally. Joy.

Grateful For Being Human

 "...one day I feel I'm on top of the world
And the next it's falling in on me
I can get back on
I can get back on..."

–Rush, Far Cry

Sometimes I wish I was an algorithm. One that would quickly learn from its mistakes, adapt, and improve, all without monsoon emotional swings. Without attaching conspiratorial outcomes to change. Without second-guessing its decisions. Without feeling buried under the weight of circumstance. Without feeling momentarily hopeless because things break. 

But I'm not an artificially intelligent "it". I'm a sometimes intelligent human being whose synapses fire, and misfire, as regularly as the sun and moon rise. One day I feel I'm on top of the world and the next it's falling in on me. 

Everybody can feel that way, I know. But when it's you in that moment, especially when it's falling in on you, you feel like you're the only one in the world, the one you were once on top of. This complicates things being a parent of older kids, teen daughters who are more self-aware than there were as kids. They struggle even more because their brains and bodies are developing rapidly and their synaptic firing is like a rollercoaster ride the dives from the upper atmosphere to the center of the earth, then back again. 

And when things are fairly smooth for us the parents, it's easier to help them with the relationship struggles. their study struggles, their body development struggles (especially being females), and all the other things we remember from our own teen worlds. 

When things aren't very smooth, we still have to figure out how to deal and adapt ourselves in order to help them. We're supposed to be the adults in the room, and when things are seemingly rapid-fire change and circumstance, it can be a momentarily overwhelming ordeal just dealing with the ordinary and things that break. 

Our daughter Bryce's bike broke (which was my wife Amy's), which is a bummer because she's the only one willing to ride her bike to school at least once per week, which helps us with the transportation. It was under warranty and we got most of the money back for it, but now have to find a new bike that will definitely be more expensive. 

We had new flooring put in last year that included our staircase. But the very top one started to break and my wife Amy slipped and fell straight down the second one breaking it. She was bruised and sore but thankfully okay otherwise. That's when I checked the other stairs and noticed a few more were loose. That overwhelmed me as a safety problem for our family, although I know we'll get it all fixed.

Even with my default "no" setting, Amy and I were going to attempt to fix our trailer hitch connection on our SUV, and while we got a better understanding of how things work and connect on our car, with discovered that the main brake lights didn't work. The upper third brake light still worked and all the other lights worked, but not the main brake lights. We had no idea how long they'd been out, and immediately we ruled out the fuses and then narrowed it down to the light bulbs and the brake lock switch. But since the latter was above our pay grade, I was banking on the fact it was the bulbs. It was. Thank goodness.

All of these things – our daughter's bike breaking, the stairs breaking under Amy's poor butt, our car's brake lights breaking – combined with the fact that the work year's been tough and now my business has merged with another company (ultimately a great thing) – and all my synaptic misfiring commenced. "One day I feel I'm on top of the world and the next it's falling in on me. I can get back on, I can get back on."

And I do get back on. In the end, I really don't wish I was an algorithm. I wouldn't trade my ability to feel emotions and experience all that life brings for being artificially intelligent in a million years. No, this Thanksgiving, I'm grateful for being human – a fallible human who can feel buried under the weight of transitory circumstances. I'm grateful for a loving wife and partner, and two amazing daughters. I'm grateful for all my family and friends, my current employees and my new colleagues. I'm grateful for our health and our home. I'm grateful for my community, my state, my country, my world (no matter where it's burning). I'm even grateful that things break (sometimes). 

I'm also grateful for empathy, and this Thanksgiving, blessings to those living in war zones, in poverty, on the streets, with mental illness, with physical illness, with anything that compromises health and safety.

A Renewal of Faith

"'Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining
Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me..."

–B. J. Thomas, Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head

"Jenny," I said to our dog. "It's raining."

Jenny yawned and did a downward dog stretch. I thought her eyes said, I hear it, Dad. Ugh, that means I'm going to get wet.

While I waited outside for her to do her morning business, towel at the ready to dry her and wipe off her feet, I celebrated the rain. The rest of the family was still fast asleep on this dark and wet early fall Sunday morning. Our rabbit was safely snuggled away in his hutch. 

I reached my hand out to let the raindrops fall onto my open palm. Cool, wet, and soft. Soothing. No other sounds or smells but the rain. Like a therapy session for the soul. All the adulting things we have to deal with and worry about day after day washed away temporarily. The unstable world around us – the drought where we live, fires, the pandemic and other diseases, the economy, inflation, making a living, cultural and societal divides, crime, mental health issues, dangerous misinformation, and of course raising our children in the middle of it all – restabilizes into refreshing and nurturing raindrops for a world longing to heal. I placed my wet palm to my face and smiled.

Rain has always had this effect on me; God's way of inspiring a renewal of my faith in humanity and my place in it. We all want to be loved, to be safe, to be healthy, to be ourselves without fear of shame or discrimination. 

As I dried off our dog Jenny, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" played inside my head. That was followed by a a line from "Three Little Birds":

"...don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right..."

Jenny and I sat next to each other on the coach. Everyone else was still asleep. I love my family, I thought. Jenny sighed a doggy sigh. I sighed a hopeful sigh.

Yes, a renewal of faith. Because I'm free, nothing's worrying me. 

Agree to Disintegration

"Truth is after all a moving target

Hairs to split,

And pieces that don't fit

How can anybody be enlightened

Truth is after all so poorly lit..."

–Rush, Turn the Page

In the very near future, they'll know. They'll know who Santa really is, and the Shelf Elves, and the Easter Bunny. We fell into the same trap that many parents do, telling their kids lies in the name of longtime, seemingly harmless cultural traditions. 

Heck, both our daughters may even already know, and are just letting the magic of childhood ride out as long as it can. We tell them the truth otherwise about everything else. Or, more accurately, we tell them our truths.

Yes, our truths. Truths that have been defined and refined since we were children. My wife and I are fairly intelligent people, fairly well-informed. Like everyone though, we have our biases, and yet are still socially progressive on issues related to racism and sexism. We believe we can be objective when weighing the facts as we know them about any issue. We empathize, we sympathize, we fight the good fight. But we're still biased and our truths are tainted by those same biases. 

Don Quixote battled windmills because he truly believed they were dangerous giants. Daredevil "Mad" Mike Hughes was killed in a rocket launch, one where planned to finally determine for himself if the earth was as flat as he believed it to be. We all believe what we want to believe if it fits our narrative at that point in time. We may all carry emotional baggage with us throughout our lives, but can't forget the added weight of confirmation bias in our psychological backpacks.

Someone I know shared a social media meme filled with conspiracy theories including the fact that coronavirus was created on purpose. Our government has taken away our freedoms to control us during this pandemic. The peaceful protests were a ruse for the #BlackLivesMatter movement to purposely loot and destroy property. So many others as well. I'm probably not even writing them out again correctly because they were so outlandish in the first place, with little to no factual bases as far as I knew. This based on reporting and historically accurate essays debunking these theories. Unfortunately, media perpetuates them, our leaders perpetuate them, either to inform or to misinform, more the latter of late. Our own education system has downplayed, even erased, systemic racism and inequality activities and issues since the founding of this country.  

I asked this person if she really believed all these things in the meme she posted. She responded she did. I was saddened, but didn't respond. I only thought about her children and grandchildren, and what they will believe and what their truths will ultimately be. 

These days some people use the phrase "agree to disagree" a lot. A difference in opinion and robust debate are important -- keeping each other honest, as they say, and seeing things from different perspectives. But, how can we agree to disagree when there's no basis of fact on what it is we actually disagree on? How do we debate purposefully destructive propaganda that's distributed to diffuse debate? This is true no matter where you find yourself along the great political and/or ideological divide. Instead, we sit around our tribal campfires scrawling our truths in the dirt, howl at the moon and to hell with everybody else. 

We can even mask it further by saying we choose love instead of choosing to take a stand on an issue. Both are equally valid in their own right, but not when it's about indirectly blaming those who choose to take a stand on something that affects their lives and livelihoods. My wife articulated it well:

Our hope is that people choose to live their lives with love and light. And that people can still do so in the worst of conditions. What is inherently false is that all people choose their circumstances. Unfortunately, one of our deep rooted cultural norms is to blame a person for their circumstances and not to consider the overlying foundation. We are privileged to have had the opportunity to work hard, provide for our families and take time to enjoy life. This is not the reality for all people and the complexities of why it is not a reality is part of why people choose apathy. We all have a choice, yes. I hold people in high regard that choose to go into the darkness with hearts of love for the betterment of all lives.

Conspiratorial propaganda is as old as the spoken word, and if we don't look for whatever facts are available to either support or refute a "reported" truth, then how can we agree to disagree? Like ever? There may be a nobility in seeing the world differently, of challenging the status quo and finding new truths. But when we agree to disintegration, there will never be a greater societal or spiritual connection for our children and grandchildren, nor an investment in healing the humanity of today and tomorrow. We need to agree it is all our responsibility. 

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To