The Great White Hope

I teach a film class and last week for some reason or another we started talking about movies that deal with diverse topics through the welcoming eyes of a progressive white person. We talked about THE HELP and how pale red-headed Emma Stone had to navigate the civil rights era. How Kevin Kline suffered through Apartheid as a white South African man in CRY FREEDOM. How straight lawyer Denzel Washington gave us a glimpse of the AIDS crisis as he helped a dying Tom Hanks.

And yes, I know that Donald Woods, the Kevin Kline character, was a real person and a good friend of martyr Steve Biko and suffered for that friendship and his activism. And Denzel Washington is not actually white, but if you do the math – he is still the “regular guy” in PHILIDELPHIA: it fits the theme. I and contend that THE HELP is a flawed film. Amazing performances all around, and it's heart is in the right place, but it still has that air of – let's just peek into this world, but not too far.

We will circle back to this later.

I read a very reassuring article from the Boston Globe entitled “Seven Reasons to Move to Massachusetts Instead of Canada.” http://www.bostonglobe.com/lifestyle/2016/11/10/seven-reasons-move-massachusetts-instead-canada/LNy3P3GcWxbAmgoCFGiKrJ/story.html?s_campaign=bostonglobe%3Asocialflow%3Afacebook it made me feel so much better about this election. We have universal health care, marriage equity, legal weed, nice people, progressive state government, we're close to the border if you have to make the jump and you don't need to emigrate to move here.

Yes, I am still nervous about the economy and women's rights, but I also enjoy my comfy New England cocoon.

But then again, I am a middle aged, middle class white lady.

I have a good friend at church who moved here from India. She was a tech writer and a radio DJ before and now she is a stay at home mom. Her husband is an engineer and they are here for his work. Their two extraordinary kids were born here. This fall, the kids invited me to attend their school's grandparents day program because their grandparents are all in India. I was both honored and a little concerned. (It was actually grandparents and FRIENDS, their mom was quick to point out. But let's face it, I could easily have grand kids that age if things had gone differently. Again, a post for another day!)

Anyway my friend organized the missions meal on Wednesday – feeding 40 or so people in town who otherwise wouldn't eat – and we were chatting in the parking lot. The subject of the election came up. She and I had been out to dinner last month and we joked around about how if she and her husband got deported, I would be happy to raise her kids. (And I really would, they are so fun...) But when we talked on Wednesday, it was less funny. She asked if I would hide her and her husband. It was still a joke, but my first thought was Anne Frank and Meip Gies didn't see it coming either.

Do I think that it is going to come to building a fake room in my attic? Of course not. And my attic is horrible. But the fear is real.

I wrote a college recommendation for one of the best students I have ever had. She is super smart, very funny, brave, ballsy and kind. I took my son and some of his friends to a free concert in Boston last year and she was there. She wanted to see the band so she snuck out and went. She is just the kind of girl I wish I had been in high school. She is also Muslim and her parents emigrated here from Iraq.

I read her college essay where she talked about them fleeing oppression in their country, meeting in a refugee camp and building a life in America. It was a masterwork. (She is seriously getting into college on that writing alone...) It was a beautiful illustration of the American Dream at work, with a side of adolescent identity crisis and a dash of humor. Man, it was good.

Well, this morning I woke up at 4 am in a cold sweat (okay, hot flash, whatever...) and I remembered that this student told me her parents were going back to Iraq for a month. She would be staying with her adult siblings at home. And I felt so very bad. Not just for my student, but for her mom. How awful to come here and build this life and raise strong, smart, able children and know that while you are thousands of miles away, your little girl is waking up in a country that just elected a man who has more than implied that all Muslims are terrorists, who wants to ban people based on their religion. I picture her coming back in a few weeks, feeling less welcome. Worrying about getting through customs.

I don't have these fears for myself, but these fears are real and I am heartsick for GLBTQ friends and students and the worry they are facing now. Again, Massachusetts is cool with whatever. We love you here, man. But the whole country is not Massachusetts and there are kids all over the the U.S. thinking – well, maybe I'll just just curl up in this closet a little longer. Or worse. We all know the suicide statistics. I pray for these kids.

I am trying not to say anything bad about the president elect. I am not really typing his name. And it's not because of the Voldemort thing. And I am not saying anything about him that is not factually true: no opinions, no comparisons to Frito-lay snack foods. And it is not because I fear eventual death squads coming for me. I am not going to protest. I am not going to say, “Not my president,” but I recognize that there are lots of people who need to stand up and scream just that.

Instead I am going to pray and try to spread kindness and be aware of the needs of others and, hopefully, be helpful.

The litany of fears for me is pretty dull – middle aged fat lady fears dip in retirement savings and possible book burnings. Maybe being referred to as a “dog” if I meet the president. (We know he hates Rosie and she is one of my celebrity dopplegangers.) But I don't want to forget that for many people this is completely gutting. And if you need to talk, or need a surrogate mom, or grandma, I am here.