Of historic days and bridging the divide

True story.

I hope to do this justice.

I want to write something to look back on days, weeks, years from now, and still feel the impact.

It’s been one week since armed men and women violently breached the U.S. Capitol in Washington D.C. Honestly, that’s a sentence I never expected to write.

(Note: If you aren’t in a political mood, please stop reading here. I’ll write later this week about life in Boulder after we have a meeting to discuss goose management in our neighborhood. That will be lighthearted. I promise. If you’re spoiling for a fight, please read through to the end. Again, I hope to do this justice.)

On Wednesday, Jan. 6, 2021, an angry mob descended on the seat of our country’s democracy and life will never be the same.

As events unfolded, I was trying to meet an editing deadline, closed away in my office, when The Weed bounded up the stairs, opened the door, and asked: ‘Are you seeing this? Are you seeing what’s happening? It’s a riot at the Capitol.’

I promptly blew my deadline and joined my husband on the couch, watching TV, stunned by what we saw.

It was one of those moments I—and I suspect others—remember having: History unfolding, second by second.

Like on January 28, 1986, when the Space Shuttle Challenger broke apart 73 seconds into flight.

Like on September 11, 2001, when the first plane hit the World Trade Center.

Like on December 14, 2020, when the first (non-clinical trial) COVID vaccine in our country went into the arm of Sandra Lindsay, a critical care nurse in New York.

On Wednesday, Jan. 6, 2021, history happened before our eyes. It was ugly and it will define this country for decades.

One week later, I woke this morning to see photos of National Guard members sleeping on the floor of the Capitol, where metal detectors are now in use.

Speaking of the metal detectors, I also read about the actions of Colorado Republican Congresswomen Lauren Boebert, who has touted her desire to carry a weapon on Capitol Hill, and reportedly refused to go through the detectors. (Apparently, she was joined by a few other lawmakers who refused to go through.)

I then read a chilling account from Sarah Groh, chief of staff for Democratic Rep. Ayanna Pressley, who told the Boston Globe that when she hid from the rioters on Jan. 6, she discovered ‘every panic button in my office had been torn out—the whole unit.’ Groh went on to say she had used the panic buttons before and had no rationale for why they would have been removed.

Democratic Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez also was quoted (elsewhere) about what happened to her during the attempted coup, saying she had a ‘traumatizing’ encounter with some rioters and thought she was going to die. On her Instagram livestream, she asked what the endgame was for the angry mob: ‘What claim will you have? That you rule over a destroyed society? That the ashes belong to you?’

Finally, I read the words of Colorado Republican Rep. Ken Buck who claimed both sides of the divide in our country are to blame for what happened last week.

‘And to say there is one speech or one incident that caused this group of people to storm the Capitol is just not accurate,’ Buck said. ‘What I’m trying to suggest to you is that both sides are at fault, and in America, we need to be very careful of the words we use.’

On one hand, I strongly disagree with Mr. Buck.

On the other, I agree that right now in our country, we all need to be very precise with our words because for so many Americans the verbal filters are MIA.

When we hear something we don’t like, we react too quickly and often too angrily.

In recent years, I’ve had problems talking with certain friends and family members because we don’t see eye-to-eye when it comes to politics.

This has come to a point with some where I focus heavily on listening rather than speaking. I refuse to engage in a shouting match about the cost of some politician’s haircut. And, don’t get me started about social media posts. Oy vey.

I mentioned my thoughts last week to a news reporter friend who was in Washington D.C. on Jan. 6, and saw firsthand what happened.

He suggested I check out a Twitter thread by Dr. Danna Young, an associate professor of communication and political science and author of Irony and Outrage: The Polarized Landscape of Rage, Fear, and Laughter in the United States.

I did. And, finally, my thoughts about reactionary discourse started to coalesce.

First, a disclaimer, Dr. Young included several anecdotal political arguments that I have not included here for brevity.

She started her Twitter thread with this comment: ‘I’ve received several DMs from friends asking what to do about parents/family members who believe misinformation regarding the election, vaccines, and COVID. Here’s a research-based thread to help explain the roots of these beliefs and how to (and how *not* to) address them.’

She wrote that ‘corrective information,’ empirically true factual evidence, has little effect on certain people’s beliefs when the information is rooted in political/social identity.

‘In other words, for many of these folks, the evidence, the science, the facts…really don’t matter,’ she wrote. ‘This is so frustrating. It’s crazy-making. It’s worse than banging your head against the wall. However, it’s not a lost cause.’

For true inroads to be made with people distrustful of certain information, we need to tap emotional connections rooted not in the information but in emotional connection and inquiry, she wrote.

‘I know. People roll their eyes when I say this. Yes. It’s fucking hard,’ she wrote. ‘With interpersonal relationships, the key is to capitalize on the love and trust that exists between individual people. In my experience, playing dumb and neutral and open-hearted goes a long way here.

‘Asking broader questions can help, too, always prefaced with a line that serves as an emotional ‘welcome mat,’ she added.

(Did I mention this is a long Twitter thread? If you’d like to read the full thread, check out @dannagal.)

Finally, Dr. Young addressed the idea that some people are more likely to draw conclusions about the world based on their guts. What feels right. Not on empirical evidence but on intuition. Beliefs guided by values, social identity, and cues from their environments that signal what is true.

‘So, to reclaim these beloved friends and family, it’s about diluting these forces with new ones (or old ones),’ she wrote. ‘This isn’t easy. It won’t happen overnight. And, no, we don’t want to do this because it’s exhausting and it sucks. I know. But if we throw our hands up, what happens then?’

Amen. What happens then?

I’d venture to say, Jan. 6, 2021 was a perfect example of that.

I hope we as a country can find a way to use our words more precisely, especially in our day-to-day interactions.

I recognize that trying to establish an emotional connection and ask broader questions of someone poised to stage a coup likely is beyond this ask. Still, how we speak to those around us, our friends, our family, our children, it’s worth the effort.

Put out that emotional welcome mat.

What we do today will define us for decades.