I’ve had one thing on my mind since the election, and it has nothing to do with how much it costs to rent ad space on The Sphere in Las Vegas. In the summer of 2018, right before I moved to Los Angeles, I went to a pool party hosted by friends of my mother and stepfather. My mom took the time to tell as many people as possible that her son was leaving Michigan, and, more importantly, her for a life in Tinseltown. While her intentions were good, it did lead to two different men asking if I was “some sort of liberal” for moving to LA. One of these men was wearing NRA-branded cargo shorts. I tried telling ole’ Machine Pants Kelly that my move was to work for the NFL, but that just turned into a debate about kneeling during the National Anthem. I wouldn’t say it was the best party I’ve ever attended. But the food was good.
I don’t know who these men voted for this year, or if they even voted. We would probably have a very nice conversation about the Detroit Lions if I ever saw them again. But right now, I’m thinking a lot about their lack of curiosity. They had an idea about a place and by extension some idea about who I am because I was moving there. They didn’t want to know what I was doing or why I was going, their contempt for a place closed off the access we could have to each other. We were three men standing around a buffet drinking light beer. What should have been the ultimate venue for male bonding instead turned into an Old West standoff. There were no Gary Coopers in that house.
I’ve probably had a dozen conversations like this about the different places I’ve lived. Los Angeles, New York, and even Raleigh, North Carolina. All are accused of being liberal safe places by people who’ve never visited. Meanwhile, every Brooklyn liberal I’ve met thinks they’re living under Franco’s thumb.
This has been on my mind since the election some 20 days ago. That pool party in Michigan and the phrase, “shocking but not surprising”. It’s probably the phrase I’ve said the most this year, besides, “I can’t believe I need a Peacock subscription to watch that”. I was shocked but not surprised by a Presidential debate in June, two political assassination attempts, and finally the election results. Despite a politically jolting summer, in the end, the country was itching to throw out the bums who raised egg prices more than 30 percent in one year. But aren’t egg prices up 30 percent because of avian flu? Sure, but bird flu wasn’t on the ballot this year, so someone else had to catch a stray.
It's a cruel twist of fate and poor planning that elections fall so close to a national holiday that forces families back together. Even the Canadians have the good sense to get it out of the way before Halloween. Politics is not fun right now, even if you’re winning. We’re all just a bit too mean, too distrustful, and too sure we’re right. I can’t pretend I haven’t committed all these sins myself. Like the buffet at the pool party, folks who see each other only passingly will be brought together this week to eat everyone’s least favorite poultry. And if your Thanksgivings are anything like my Thanksgivings, it also means, folks will be boozing, and the grownups will try to solve all the world’s problems. I’m lucky to be a native son of Michigan because hopefully this year we can all sing kumbaya about Dan Campbell and Jared Goff instead of arguing over how high the tariffs on Mexico should be. It could be much worse; I could have been raised a Cowboys fan. But with this forced family fun, I’m reflecting on how we’ll all get through this week and the next four years. On this week of Thanksgiving, I wonder how we bridge the divide.
In an audio essay after the election, Ezra Klein wrote the Democrats could go forward from this election emotionally with either contempt or curiosity. The losing party facing this kind of defeat certainly has some soul-searching to do, and I hope for the American experiment they chose to be curious. I don’t think this is an argument for giving up on one’s beliefs. Maybe it’s time for one party to reframe how it talks about issues, and maybe it would also be good if one party toned down the outrage. Turns out, you can’t say everything is a crisis, because then really nothing is a crisis. If you’re upset or hurting after this election, I get it. I’m in no position to tell anyone how to feel right now. But if we all use this moment to be curious instead of throwing up our hands and accepting defeat, then maybe we can hear what people are saying.
Listening to those you oppose isn’t a dereliction of your principles, but the duty of everyone in a big, diverse democracy. This country is messy on its best day and a disaster on its worst. The discourse is full of trolls seeking provocation. Every day we are berated by nonsense online that looks like information offering simple answers to complex questions.
This is a time to form the best argument for the future. That starts with hearing where we are all coming from and being curious about our neighbors like we haven’t been for a long time. These next four years will be hard and the burden of moving forward falls on everyone but will be carried unequally by those most impacted by the policies of the next administration. The hardest part about democracy is it asks all of us to be leaders. I hope the next time someone asks me if “you’re some sort of liberal or something,” I really hear them, instead of looking for the exit. For most of us, behind the bluster, we’re all just trying to get by.
Pass the cranberry sauce. I’m thankful for all of you.
See you Thursday.