A Right To Exist

"We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist."

–James Baldwin, American writer and civil rights activist

They tried to erase Jesus. They being those in power. If you don't know the story, Jesus was ordered to be crucified by Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea at the time. Jesus had been accused of blasphemy, but Pilate initially found no reason to charge him. However, under pressure from the crowd and religious authorities, he eventually authorized the crucifixion to maintain public order. The Christian faithful know the rest of the story. Happy Easter. He is risen. 

For those who believe, that's their truth, and blessings to them, but my truth today is that "God has left the building" in this country we call America. I thought about this (and many other things that constantly swirl in my mind) as my wife Amy and I joined another local protest this weekend protesting all the blasphemous and destructive things the current administration is doing. I thought about erasure and the lack of due process sending non-criminal immigrants to an El Salvadoran prison. Even America citizens are at risk now.

As we walked around during the protest holding our signs up high, I worried that we're all candidates for erasure, especially women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community. If you think that's an overreaction, then maybe you missed the following:

The current administration has undertaken extensive efforts to remove or alter historical references across federal websites, monuments, and educational materials, particularly those highlighting the contributions of marginalized groups. These actions are largely driven by Executive Order 14253, titled "Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History," which mandates the elimination of content deemed as promoting "divisive race-centered ideology".

And who are those marginalized groups? Women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community. What does "restoring truth and sanity to American history" even mean? It actually means erasing the truth and rewriting it by scrubbing out the violent discriminatory stains of our history. 

And this is only just the beginning. 

I understand that there are those who feel like empathy and inclusion have been forced upon them, and that diversity and equity are bad things, which they're not. However, discrimination, division, and erasure are now being forced on many more. 

In the Bible, Jesus challenged the powerful, embraced those outcast, welcomed strangers, and condemned hypocrisy. He spoke of a kingdom defined not by worldly power or national identity, but by justice, mercy, and humility. Those in power tried to erase him, but they didn't succeed.

For those of us who stand up and speak truth to power today, they will try to erase us, too. But we all have a right to exist, so the time is now to do, to speak up. It really is. For our sake, our children's sake, and grandchildren's sake. We will not be erased. 

Happy Easter. Blessings to us all. 

Moms and Men (And Men Who Are Moms)

We were so excited to see our youngest Bryce at the opening night of Beauty and the Beast. Being her first time doing serious youth theater, she didn't have a major role, but that didn't matter to her (or us). She was thrilled to be in it, and she along with all her other cast members had worked so hard for over three months to get here.

It was the Friday before Mother's Day this year and I knew how proud my wife Amy was of both our children. Of course, I was too. However, prior to heading to the theater, I had a flash of what-if. What if a shooter came to the theater hell bent on taking lives?

I used to think these fears were irrational and unrealistic ones, but not any more. Thankfully I don't dwell very long on them; opening night was amazing and everyone was safe and sound. The next night, the night before Mother's Day, Amy volunteered to help in the dressing room. It was after 10 pm when the show was over and the cast went to a local ice cream parlor for a treat, accompanied by many of their parents. Again, my what-if fears appeared as I waited at home for them. Our oldest Beatrice was already asleep when Amy and Bryce got home around 11 pm. Again, everyone safe and sound and all was well. 

Sadly, we live in an ailing democracy with increasing gun violence. I'm not against responsible gun ownership; I grew up in law enforcement with guns in the house. However, today we're far beyond a sensible gun culture. And even with the majority of Americans supporting universal background checks, red flag laws that take guns away from people dangerous to themselves and others, mandatory 30-day waiting periods for guns, banning assault rifles and semi-automatic weapons, and increased mental health funding, as of May 1, at least 13,959 people have died from gun violence in the U.S. this year.

491 were teens and 85 were children.

That's just this year. One of the main causes of death today for teens and children is gun violence. One thing that's not talked about enough though is the toxic masculinity that produces this horrific gun violence. Toxic masculinity meaning a need to be dominant and aggressive, to control others (especially women, children, people of color, LGBTQ+, etc.), and the belief that the threat of violence or the act of violence is the answer to problems. Toxic masculinity that includes mostly young and old white males (i.e., white supremacists), although it can include males of any ethnicity. 

Since 1982, 136 mass shootings have been carried out in the United States by male shooters, and only four mass shootings (defined by the source as a single attack in a public place in which four or more victims were killed) have been carried out by women.

Gun violence is such an overwhelming problem in America. Again, sensible gun laws like universal background checks, red flag laws, mandatory 30-day waiting periods, and banning assault rifles that the majority of Americans support are a start, and that means the majority of us must press our federal and state legislators (and vote) for these changes. 

We're also going to have to deal with the toxic masculinity that fuels the senseless violence. This is where moms and men (and men who are moms) can help dismantle and diffuse the need to be in control and undermine others through violence, to push for increased mental health funding and advocate for a culture of empathy and inclusion. I don't want to be fearful every time our kids are in a theater production, or go to the mall, or go to school. 

That's why I wrote this today, on Mother's Day, for all the moms who have lost the 491 teens and 85 children this year to gun violence, and sadly we know there are more to come. Blessings to you all. The majority of us will work to make a much needed difference. 

This Is What We Can Do

I tired quickly of the social media memes and why I had to get off social. The memes that said things like "can't we just agree to disagree." Or, this very specific one associated with a picture of an older Clint Eastwood scowling:

I disagree with you. It doesn't mean I dislike you or that I'm mad at you. It just means that like you, I have my own opinions. I won't treat you disrespectfully just because we share differing opinions. Give me the same respect.

I mean, c'mon. Clint Eastwood? The actor/director who played Dirty Harry and a myriad of other strong, tough and unforgiving white-male leads who would more likely punch you or shoot you before listening to you? That's the image associated with this meme seemingly about trying to be understanding of each other, and it doesn't work for me. 

If we agree to disagree about whether or not our children should have their own phones, whether or not speed bumps should be added to our local streets, or even whether or not we support universal healthcare, then that's different. We could have a somewhat informed discussion based on verifiable facts and non-threatening personal opinions. But when what we disagree on could result in a safety problem for me, or my wife, or my two daughters, that could endanger us in any way, then it's not about compromise or respect. It's about personal safety. 

Plus, I just can't agree to disagree when belief and opinions are based on dangerous lies that result in destructive outcomes, even with the overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary. For example, when someone wants to believe that the coronavirus isn't real, or really a threat to people, or a way to control the masses and negate personal freedoms, and aren't willing to practice safety protocols or eventually get vaccinated. Or they want to believe there was widespread voter fraud in the presidential election and are willing to try to take over the Capitol and kidnap, hurt and even kill government leaders and anyone else who disagrees with them (civilians like us). These are dire safety problems for many of us today who want to prevent others from getting sick or prevent violence in their own communities. 

Which is why it was timely that I received a Kidpower email that announced "We stand for safety!"

Kidpower is a nonprofit organization my wife Amy works for. It continues to teach our family and people of all ages and abilities to use their power to stay safe, act wisely, and believe in themselves.

How do we choose safety in dangerous times? This article describes 3 core Kidpower strategies for protecting ourselves and the young people in our lives:

1. Create emotional safety
2. Stay away from trouble
3. Focus on what we CAN do

We're also teaching our daughters how to be accountable for their own words and actions and how they impact others, and possibly endanger them. And in the same breath, to not shame or marginalize others because they don't agree with them -- even when it involves potential safety problems for them and others. They do need to get away from the trouble, and stay away, and then focus on what they can do about it. The latest Brené Brown podcast highlights how important accountability is and how uncomfortable it is these days to address. Letting ourselves be vulnerable enough to be accountable for our actions is creating emotional safety for us and others. This is what our children are learning to do and will continue to practice into adulthood. 

Four years ago our entire family marched in the Women's March. And while there was angry shaming about the newly elected president then, for many of us it was all about how millions of inspired global citizens added to the momentum of a positive movement -- the transcendent beauty of inclusive community. The same sentiment for the times we participated in our local Martin Luther King, Jr. Day marches. Unfortunately the continued resurgence of misogyny, racism, bullying, intolerance, shaming -- and just blatant hateful dehumanization -- is a big safety problem for us all now.

I've been mostly off social media for the past week, because I feel we just can't agree to disagree anymore. Not when it's based on perpetuated lies that lead to destructive outcomes. And not when there's an ongoing willingness to marginalize others that leads to unnecessary violence. We just can't. The reality is that we should learn how to agree and disagree with each other, while being emotionally safe and accountable and truthful, without shaming or dehumanizing each other in the process. This is what we can do; what our children can learn from us. It will be a lot of hard work and will come with many uncomfortable conversations, but I truly believe this is how we heal. 

A Grateful Tree

 

I want to be a grateful tree

with branches high

that reach skyward

like all arms wide to

welcome the sun and moon 

and heavens above

I want to be a grateful tree

with roots so deep

that reach downward 

like arterial thrive

to feed its heart and soul

and heavens below

I want to be a grateful tree

a home to all

that fly and crawl

and scurry and pounce

in a welcome safe-haven

where no one is without

I want to be a grateful tree

unending love

for all who pass

to stop and smile

and then after awhile

embrace their grace within

--Kevin Grossman, #BhivePower

All These Things Can Lead to Grace

We had watched Serpico together, the real-life story of a NYPD office who went undercover to expose corruption in the police force from 1960 to 1972. Our family always watched police dramas together, nonfiction and fiction alike. My sister and I were in high school, and at that time, our father was a police detective responsible for forgery and fraud, and our mother was the police dispatch supervisor. 

After watching Serpico, I remember asking my dad if there were any bad cops in our hometown police department. He paused, then gave me this answer:

"Well, son, there are good cops, and there are bad cops, just like there are good bakers and bad bakers. Unfortunately there are always some who don't play by the rules and hurt others. But for us, yes, there are mostly good cops."

I responded, "But bad bakers don't kill other good bakers, or other people."

My dad smiled and nodded. "You are correct, son. You are correct. They do not. Not usually."

They never do. They just go out of business, I thought.

Our dad wasn't without his own biases, or our entire family for that matter, but time and again while he was alive and after he passed away, and after 32 years on the force, good guys and bad guys alike couldn't help but like him. He taught us a lot empathy, inclusion and forgiveness, even when it wasn't intentional. Our mom did the same. They both loved their families and God. 

And then in the summer of 2012 he was gone, and four months later she was gone. It's hard to imagine them here today, in the middle of pandemic with all the health issues they used to have, of what we'd have to do to care for them. 

But I do want them both here today -- I know my sister does as well. I want my dad to be here and to tell me why there are still bad cops doing the wrong things in our communities. Why they hate so much and keep using such excessive force killing black and brown men and women. Why supposedly good cops stand by and do nothing. Why so many of them are never arrested or prosecuted. Why so many police reforms are never sustained. Why the normalcy of racism in this country continues.

The recent killing of George Floyd by a white police officer who kneeled on his neck until he stopped breathing, has incited protests and violence across the U.S. This because George Floyd, an unarmed African American had supposedly tried to use a counterfeit bill at a convenience store. George Floyd, one more name in a sea of names that, when I think about, I couldn't name, other than Ahmaud Arbery. He was another unarmed black man who was jogging and then chased by two white men and gunned down because they said they were trying to make a citizen's arrest, when there is no such thing. 

Thankfully there are those who help us remember, like the daughter of an old friend from high school who created a poster with all the names. 

I want my dad (and mom) here today to help answer the why questions, because I struggle to answer them for my own daughters. My wife and I have be teaching our girls about slavery and how people of color have been treated poorly throughout American history since they were little. 

Both girls listened and ask legitimate questions like "why would people do that" over and over, questions that aren't hard for us to discuss, but hard for us to answer being a white family who have not experienced systemic discrimination like non-whites have in this country for hundreds of years. Which is why, at the end of the day, my dad probably wouldn't be able to answer them either, no matter how hard he tried. White supremacy is the legacy of the modern day police force and it needs a bigger condemnation than "good cops and bad cops," and more serious reforms than have fizzled out to date. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, I just wish we would've gone deeper on this subject together. 

The other day I told my daughters about George Floyd and what's been happening in our country. They didn't know because we don't watch the news with them. 

"I don't understand why skin color matters!" said Beatrice, after I finished.

"I know," I said. 

"They just need to get over it!" said Bryce.

"Who?"

"White people." 

Wow, Bryce. Sadly, that's the argument made by too many whites today, that they have nothing to do with racism, that black and brown people have more rights than they do, that they need to get over it, especially if all they're going to do is burn everything down. This continues to be the dividing sentiment of the day. 

Thankfully my wife works for Kidpower and I'm so glad that Kidpower community reminded me of their commitment to safety and justice for all: 

At Kidpower, we believe that everyone has the right to safety, respect, peace, and justice. We are heartbroken about the suffering and tragedy caused by racist attacks and discrimination against people of color in our communities, at our borders, and around the world. We will continue to speak out and take action to protect and empower all people. 

Yes, continue to speak out and take action to protect and empower all people. Always.

But then I also keep thinking about the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. quote someone posted on my Facebook wall that ended: 

Riot is the language of the unheard.

I am privileged. I am biased. I am white. I am male.

I empathize. I sympathize. I fight the good fight. 

Everyone has the right to safety, respect, peace, and justice. 

I hope that Minneapolis police officer is prosecuted and locked up for the rest of his life, and that the officers who were with him are arrested as well. 

I'm tired of the commentary that includes, "Well, I don't like what happened to that black man, but I don't agree with violent protests."

I don't agree with them either; our family has been a part of many peaceful protests. Those committing the current violence in our communities and looting and destroying businesses should also be held accountable. So many business were already on the brink of bankruptcy because of COVID-19. And one of my employees and his wife and family live not more than a mile from the violence in Minneapolis. 

My sister was also a police officer for many years, and we both still have friends and family who are in law enforcement, good people who's lives are now in danger.  

But, imagine being subjected to 400+ years of institutionalized systemic racism and violence. Of being afraid of walking down the street and being harassed by the police because you're a black or brown male. 

Then imagine bringing a bazooka or an assault rifle into a sandwich shop or a state's capital building. Of law enforcement not doing a thing about it because you can, and because you're white. 

I want to be part of positive change. I don't want my city burned down.

I empathize. I sympathize. I fight the good fight. 

And I miss my mom and dad. I miss talking with them about life and current events that affect us all, even if we didn't always agree on them. Our girls didn't get a chance to know them like I wanted them too, since they were so young when my parents passed away. 

What we did agree on was the fact that positive change starts with our children and grandchildren. That we should teach them compassion, empathy, forgiveness, inclusion and understanding. All these things can lead to grace, a new normalcy desperately needed today. 

The Transcendent Beauty of Inclusive Community

I could've been called worse considering the context. The girls and I each wore one of the many knitted and sewn pink "kitty" hats of the Women's March, mine with a Santa Cruz patch pinned to it. We walked across the street downtown at a brisk pace, hand in hand, on a mission to Bookshop Santa Cruz to buy some earned books for the girls. The peaceful march crowds were already thick and growing steadily and I needed to hurry us so we could me the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) at our designated meeting time.

"You're not even a woman, man," someone said to me.

Two young guys, probably early twenties, passed us crossing the street. One of them had made the crack. Peripherally I could see each had long hair and scraggly beards. They were laughing.

We kept moving toward to the bookshop against the clock, my comeback coming too late.

Yeah, well, you look like a women, man, I thought, but didn't say out loud.

It was dumb, I knew. Even inappropriate considering the sentiment of the day. But as quickly as it happened, it faded from immediate memory when we entered the bookshop.

The girls and I had already had a busy morning and then we headed back to downtown Santa Cruz to have lunch and go to the bookshop to buy a book each because of their latest star earnings for reading. The back-to-back rains we've had in California gave us a reprieve for most of the day, so we went to our local community center first where there's a fun playground for kids.

That's where we ran into the Mama. Being of the local organizers of the Women's March, she was at the community center setting up for the post-march community event (the community center is called Louden Nelson, named after a former slave who lived in Santa Cruz in the 1850's). The Women's March mission is to stand together in solidarity with our partners and children for the protection of our rights, our safety, our health, and our families -- recognizing that our vibrant and diverse communities are the strength of our country. 

Of course there's subtext here due to our recent contentious U.S. election, but it's about so much more now for us and millions of others around the world. The Mama's inspired activism and civic duty has moved and motivated me more than any moment since the day we met. I've never been involved in anything like this before. Neither has my wife. But we've always looked out for our family, our freedom and our future.

We're both white and come from broken homes from one the lowest of socio-economic stratum, me from a conservative Christian one, and yet we grew up and lived our lives, went to college and came together one day on the beach in 1997. Now we're called "coastal elites" because we live on the coast and celebrate an inclusive liberal-to-middle-of-the-road progressive perspective.

That doesn't matter though, because today the stakes are higher than they've ever been for us in our lifetimes. Because now we have young children in a country and world resurgent with misogyny, racism, bullying, xenophobia, intolerance -- and just blatant anger and hate -- from the top down to the cracks in between. 

We will not stand by and let our girls grow up in this kind of world, restricting the rights of the many for the oppressive rights of the few.

So we're all in.

That's not to take away those women, people of color and the LGBT population around the world who have suffered and sacrificed themselves for generations, fighting for their rights and the safety and security of their families (and the rest of us). We have never been beaten in a peaceful march or protest because of our gender or color or sexual preference, or because our land was taken away, or because some or all our rights were taken away -- or hosed down, or sexually assaulted, or arrested and locked up, or had our houses set fire, or strung up in a tree and hanged.

No, not to take away from any of what's come before us and those who have given their lives to making a difference, but to finally rise up ourselves and lend our voices to help ensure social justice, positive change. Just everyday like you and you and you, people doing everyday incremental things to affect and maintain a better world for our children and generations to come.

That's why my wife got involved. That's why we marched. All of us. Including our girls. Initially there were only supposed to be 1,000 to 2,000 people coming to march peacefully from city hall to the Louden Nelson Community Center. There ended up being anywhere between 10,000-15,000 people in all (probably closer to the 15K).

I've never experienced anything like this before. Not even growing up with a loving extended family who, with its own share of daily dysfunction, was still loving and supportive of itself, God and country.

No, this was something so much more. All kinds of people from a myriad of backgrounds swallowed us up once we met up with the Mama near the center of the march. This was a community, like the many others around the world and the main one in Washington D.C., that had come together in support of democracy and something bigger than our sometimes divisive perspectives. Of reminding ourselves that we're the power, the 99%, the difference between a police state and a populace governed by itself.

And so we marched, spirits high, and we sang, laughed and cried. Thousands of us in varied ethnicities, husbands and wives, domestic partners, mothers and fathers and grandparents, many of us with our children and babies, marching slowly and safely through the streets where we live in order to keep them this way.

Yes, there is still a disparate divide. Yes, some of us will always feel like we're going in the wrong direction regardless of who's in power. Yes, there are still too many social and economic problems we must continuously work on. Yes, the world can be a dangerous place, godless and dark and brutal.

But yesterday I witnessed no carnage, no global apocalyptic omens portending the end of us all. Only inspired millions worldwide adding to the momentum of a positive movement, the transcendent beauty of inclusive community. One where we keep ourselves and our leaders accountable, that we must sustain and build on together, or as much together as we can muster.

Now that the initial march is over, for those interested, check out the new Women's March campaign: 10 Actions for the first 100 Days.