Be A Citizen, With Or Without A Fuzzy Robe
On Wednesday evening I watched 1. Donald Trump's press conference and 2. President Obama's farewell address, resulting in a condition my friend Shawna correctly diagnosed as emotional whiplash.
My six-year-old daughter E shuffled down the stairs during the press conference, in her penguin jammies and Hello Kitty slippers and the "fuzzy owl night robe" she'd pinned all of her Christmas hopes on. When she saw Trump's face paused on the screen, she winced and lisped: "I just—I just don't feel like our country is going to be in very good hands now. I feel like we've been in good hands with President Obama, but now..."
Me, halfway through the speech. Source
She snuggled up next to me on the couch, and we switched to the farewell address. If you know E, you'll not be surprised that she stretched her fuzzy little robed arm up around my shoulders and patted my head kindly when I began to cry (at the words "Rio Grande," in case you're interested. By the time he got to praising Michelle I was full-on ugly).
During the president's speech I alternated between respect and exasperation: Really? So much optimism, still?! You know what we're capable of; we showed you, unarguably, on November 8. But optimistic he remains, precisely because—apparently—he does know what we're capable of.
I'm pretty cynical. But the Girl Scout in the turquoise robe with the sticky-up owl ears? She's no cynic. And not to get all children-are-our-future, but I tried to hear the speech from her perspective. It's worth quoting at length. Maybe try to read as though you were six.
But remember, none of this [justice work] happens on its own. All of this depends on our participation, on each of us accepting the responsibility of citizenship, regardless of which way the pendulum of power happens to be swinging. Our Constitution is a remarkable, beautiful gift.
But it's really just a piece of parchment. It has no power on its own. We, the people, give it power.
We, the people, give it meaning. With our participation and with the choices that we make and the alliances that we forge.
...
America is no fragile thing. But the gains of our long journey to freedom are not assured. In his own farewell address, George Washington wrote that self-government is the underpinning of our safety, prosperity and liberty.
But "from different causes and from different quarters, much pains will be taken to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth."
And so we have to preserve this truth with "jealous anxiety," that we should reject "the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest or to enfeeble the sacred ties that make us one."
...
It falls to each of us to be those anxious, jealous guardians of our democracy.
To embrace the joyous task we've been given, to continually try to improve this great nation of ours. Because for all our outward differences, we in fact all share the same proud title, the most important office in a democracy: citizen.
Citizen.
So you see, that's what our democracy demands. It needs you. Not just when there’s an election, not just when your own narrow interest is at stake, but over the full span of a lifetime.
...
Show up. Dive in. Stay at it. Sometimes, you'll win. Sometimes you'll lose. Presuming a reservoir of goodness in other people, that could be a risk.
And there will be times when the process will disappoint you. But for those of us fortunate enough to have been part of this work and to see it up close, let me tell you—it can energize and inspire.
It is extremely snuggly, but I'd never considered it particularly patriotic. Source
How a Six-Year-Old Becomes a Citizen
You guys. By this point in the speech, E was sitting up straight, transfixed. She muttered to herself, "See, we're in good hands with him, and he wants us to help."
She's a doer, a nurturer, a person who hears "democracy needs you" and believes it. She doesn't need to understand it all or Have An Informed Opinion about every policy. Her president, whom she trusts as a dad and a fellow doer, told her to get involved. And she was there for it.
And then. Then he started talking to and about young people:
And that's why I leave this stage tonight even more optimistic about this country than when we started. Because I know our work has not only helped so many Americans, it has inspired so many Americans. Especially so many young people out there.
To believe that you can make a difference, to hitch your wagon to something bigger than yourselves. Let me tell you, this generation coming up—unselfish, altruistic, creative, patriotic—I’ve seen you in every corner of the country. You believe in a fair and just and inclusive America.
You know that constant change has been America's hallmark, that it is not something to fear but something to embrace. You are willing to carry this hard work of democracy forward.
You'll soon outnumber all of us, and I believe, as a result, the future is in good hands.
He said the future is in good hands. Not his hands, not Donald Trump's hands.
Her hands.
I wish you could have seen her face at that moment. She was grinning and her eyes were shining and she was transfixed. This is the kid who makes Black Lives Matter posters with her watercolors, who will carry your toddler around and keep him happy all day, who stocks her little purse with her dollars for homeless people. She is fierce about fairness and inclusion and love; she doesn't care whether she gets credit as long as she does the important freaking work; and now, she learned that there was a name for all of this: citizen.
Citizen.
The next morning, she told her dad and brother: President Obama thinks the country is in good hands, as long as young people keep working to include everyone and make things fairer. She said: This is called "being a citizen," and it seems like a lot of work, but President Obama has two kids and knows what kids can do, so it must be possible.
She's a citizen now.
Thank you both. Source
So. In honor of E, I'd like to stash my cynicism for a minute and say: Let's be citizens. Like, add "citizen" to our lists of self-descriptors. I'm a woman, a writer, a mom, a spouse, a Christian, a musician, a citizen.
"You see, that's what our democracy demands. It needs you. Not just when there’s an election, not just when your own narrow interest is at stake, but over the full span of a lifetime.
...
Show up. Dive in. Stay at it."
I say this without irony because that's how my citizen daughter would say it: We're in each other's hands. Let's show up, dive in, and stay at it.
Back next week with the systemic racisms. Catch up here and here.