Most of my
friends on Facebook share my feelings about politics.
Several of
them don’t. Among these, two stand out.
One is a man
I have known for over twenty years. He
was one of my first writing teachers. I
think he’s pretty brilliant. I do not
get his politics At All.
Once, years
ago, at a writing retreat, I jokingly made reference to a political issue about
which I knew we disagreed. He looked at
me imploringly and said, “Please let’s not talk about it.” I understood that he did not want to fight
with me. I didn’t joke about it anymore.
Recently,
this man posted something about President Obama as a response to something I
had written. I posted back, “Love
you. We’ll just have to agree to
disagree.” And he respected me and said
nothing further.
The other
person I want to write about is someone I’ve never met. It’s funny that we’re even Facebook friends,
since our lives are about as different as two Americans’ lives can be. But we became online friends after his
daughter starred in the trailer for my book PRETTIEST DOLL (Clarion 2012)
This man
disagrees with just about every political opinion I hold. But what I love—what I find meaningful about
our virtual friendship—is that we’ve actually had extended conversations (via
Facebook) about things that are hot buttons for both of us. These conversations have been civil, even
friendly. That’s a rarity in today’s
world.
The reason I’m
writing about all this on a blog supposedly devoted to writing, books, and my
life as a middle-aged woman is that I am working on a manuscript that takes
place in a middle school. Middle school,
as we adults know, is a dreadful, dreadful place, and I was trying to catalog the reasons for this.
The usual
things came immediately to mind: kids have one foot in the adult world and the
other in a child’s, their voices are changing, they’re getting their periods,
their skin is bad, their hormones are misfiring. Everyone’s basically a hot mess, and there’s
a lot of homework. Just thinking about
it makes me sick.
But the
really bad thing—the worst thing—about
middle school is that you only talk to your friends (which, this being middle
school, you’re lucky to have). There isn’t
a whole lot of inter-clique mingling.
The athletic boys hang out with each other at lunch; they don’t have
much to say to the Theater kids or the smart boys or the boys who go their own
way or haven’t figured out just who they are yet. Or the boys who want desperately to belong somewhere and, whatever the reason, don’t.
That is what
is so dreadful about middle school. That
is what tears at my heart when I think about it.
This morning
it occurred to me that many of us adults have re-created our own grownup
version of middle school for ourselves.
We hang out with people who share our beliefs. We whisper about the people who don’t, or
make fun of them, or tell other people how stupid they are for believing what
they believe.
It’s kind of
crummy, actually.
I’m not
going to stop posting memes about how dangerous “the other side” is, or how
they make up facts, or are delusional, or misinformed, or just plain wrong.
But my two Facebook
friendships have made me realize a couple of things. One is that I have to keep in mind that “the
other side” is made up of people I like and respect. Would I say nasty things to their faces, in
person? Nope. I would not.
The other
thing I’m going to remember is that having a substantive conversation with
someone who sees the world differently from the way I see it is far more
satisfying, and ultimately more fun, that sharing funny memes.
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