I am a liberal, raised by liberal parents. My parents were technically members of the Silent Generation, yet had Dad been born a few days earlier and Mom a few months earlier, they would have been considered members of the Greatest Generation. Dad was in the Navy during World War II yet never saw combat as the war ended a little over a year after he enlisted. As a high school student, Mom, like many of her friends, worked in the defense plant during the war.

My father owned a gun, and my mother was an excellent shot. Yet, we don’t have one family photo of any of us holding that gun. After Dad died, Mom kept the gun in the gun safe in her bedroom.

I never heard my parents say a racial slur. We were never taught being white made us superior—yet Mom did tell us it gave us privilege. Not a privilege we earned, but one that was the luck of the draw. 

Even when our family had major issues with the Chemehuevi Tribe over the Havasu Palms lease, it was never a matter of race for my parents, but a matter of a broken system whose fault originated with the Federal Government. 

My Dad, while raised a fundamental Christian, called himself an agnostic during his adult years, yet his moral code reflected many of Jesus’s teachings. Stealing was something Dad abhorred.  He was a hard worker and a devoted family man. Dad opposed abortion, but my mother did not. While Mom stopped attending church when she married Dad, she believed in God and the power of prayer, and occasionally sent my sister and me to Christian Science Sunday School. Both of my parents loved Christmas.

My parents were generous and would often help people in need. Mom was quick to donate to causes that helped animals, children, and veterans. They raised my sister and me with unconditional love, and never once did either parent take a belt to us or intimidate us with beatings of any sort. A threat of disappointing our father was enough to get my sister and I in line, yet I will confess my persistence was a trial for my father, yet he never once attempted to break my spirit. In fact, my father did not ascribe to the parenting practice that advocated breaking a strong willed child’s spirit. 

Empathy was taught in our home. To this day, some 64 years later, I can remember one of my mother’s lessons. I was no older than the second grade. I know this because I remember, at the time I was sitting in a car in the driveway of the home we moved from after the second grade. I was with my mom and some other people, returning home from some event. 

The little girl sitting next to me in the car—I don’t recall her name—had bad teeth.  I believe we had just pulled into our driveway to be dropped off. I decided at that moment to comment on the girl’s teeth. I wasn’t voicing my observation out of malice or an intent to hurt feelings; I was simply being a thoughtless child vocalizing my thoughts.

I told the girl her teeth were ugly, or something to that effect. Mom abruptly silenced me and sent me to the house. I don’t know what she said in the car after I got out, but when she went in the house with me a few minutes later, we sat down, and she explained—not with anger—why I shouldn’t have said what I did. She asked me to think a moment, how would I have felt had I had teeth like that little girl, and someone said something like that to me?

I understood. I felt horrible. And in that moment, the lesson of empathy clicked into place.  

My parents were Democrats, and their best friends were John Burch Republicans who went to Church every Sunday, and I never heard my parents arguing politics with their friends. However, I do recall overhearing a cordial disagreement between my father and the wife of the couple when she attempted to talk my father in allowing me to attend the summer camp of her fundamental Christian church. 

During the Vietnam War, my mother considered flying the American flag upside down at Havasu Palms, in protest of the war. Yet, they were never against our troops who went to Nam, just the opposite. They cared about them, and that is why they opposed the war. One of those people who went was my future brother-in-law. My parents, both Democrats, never understood why anyone treated the returning troops poorly.  But, in no political party will all members agree or behave the same way.

It was sometime in my childhood—I can’t recall the exact year, but sometime in the late 1960s—that I learned there were not just two sexes, male and female. I learned this after my mother explained that one of my elementary school classmates, who I knew as a girl, had been born intersex. Back then they called it hermaphrodite, a term that is now considered outdated, offensive, and inaccurate. I also know now there are over thirty types of intersex variations.

It was a private conversation between my mom and me, and I understood I was not to discuss this with my friends. Mom wanted me to understand the world was more complicated than we think. My intersex school friend was given a name that could be suitable for a boy or girl, and I lost touch with her in junior high, and often wonder if she continues to identify as female. I hope she is happy and comfortable in her body.

My parents never taught me that gayness was a choice. While they didn’t necessarily understand it, they never demonized it, not like they do today, where certain anti-LGBTQ people seem to believe people are somehow indoctrinated into the group as opposed to being born into it.  

Both my sister and I attended college in the liberal state of California. I remember my aunt and uncle—both of whom were much more conservative than my parents—sending my older cousin off to college. He was a straight A student and had been an obedient son his entire life. I am sure if my aunt and uncle were still alive today, they would insist their son had been indoctrinated by liberal professors, because after he left home their relationship shifted drastically. 

Had my cousin been indoctrinated? From my perspective he had simply been exposed to a wider world view, in the same way a person who leaves his small town for the big city might change, or someone who decides to travel abroad, and see more of the world. Their political views no longer aligned, my cousin was more accepting of gay people than his parents, and I personally believe his father resented his son’s newfound autonomy. 

I’ve noticed that many conservative families pride themselves on “control” of their offspring—regardless the age of said offspring. And if their adult child no longer conforms to what they expect, like when one of them comes out of the closet, some conservative parents opt to disown the child.

Had I been gay and come out to my parents, I know without a doubt they would never have disowned me, even though they didn’t understand or accept it in the same way someone from my generation or GenX might.

I always believed it was our duty as a parent to raise our children to be independent adults, who can make their own decisions, even decisions regarding religion. Basically, that’s how my parents raised me. They shared with me their beliefs but gave me the opportunity to explore and make up my own mind.

My husband, Don, who had been raised in the Episcopal church and had stopped attending long before he met me, told me during our engagement that he believed when we someday had children, we should have them baptized when they are babies. I did not agree.

I had loosely been raised Christian Science, and they don’t baptize in that church, and I had never been baptized. I told Don that if our someday children wanted to be baptized, I felt that was something they needed to decide for themselves, because otherwise it really meant nothing.

Later, we decided to get married in the Episcopal Church. My mother-in-law was an active member in the church, yet the one in Hawaii, at the time. We were getting married in an Episcopal church in California. Before saying our vows, we had to meet with the minister for pre-marriage counseling. 

During that counseling session Don brought up the issue of baptism. Considering Don was no longer an active member of the church, the minister sided with me. Looking back, that minister had some great advice—and considering we celebrate our 50^th wedding anniversary next June, it must have taken.  

I understand many of today’s conservatives, especially Christian conservatives, believe the husband is the head of the family, the wife must submit to her husband, her duty is to have children, stay home, and the notion of feminism is often demonized. I was raised to believe a marriage is a partnership, and frankly, I tend to view submission as a sexual kink. No kink shaming, but submission is not my thing. And yes, I sincerely believe there is a segment of Christians who focus on the submission not for biblical reasons but for the reason I just mentioned. Those are the same ministers who tell women they can’t deny their husband’s their bodies, as if once married a woman is obligated to have sex regardless of her own feelings in that moment. You can’t tell me that isn’t just about sex and not God.

I understand that for many Christians the husband is considered the religious leader of the home, which is why the wife submits to him—but I believe faith or religion is personal, between me and the higher power. You may disagree, but that’s okay. In the United States our US Constitution gives me the right to have my own faith system. 

My mother was a devoted mother and grandmother, who was the stereotypical stay at home mom until we moved to Havasu when I was thirteen. Before I became a mother Mom used to tell my sister and me, don’t have children for me. While she utterly adored her grandchildren, Mom understood that motherhood may not be for all women, and she wanted to let us know that was okay. 

So, yeah, I am a liberal. While not a registered Democrat, I can’t recall ever voting Republican for president.

I am a liberal who believes in empathy, because societies lacking in empathy tend to have a higher crime rate. 

I am a liberal who refuses to pass judgement on two consenting adults in a gay relationship, because I don’t believe we can choose who we are attracted to, and if you sincerely believe that, I suspect you are bi in denial, because a heterosexual person knows it would be impossible to “choose” physical attraction to someone of the same sex. 

I am a liberal who adamantly supports Gay Pride month—because I understand it is not about indoctrinating enlistments into the gay lifestyle—as I mentioned in the previous paragraph, that is not how it works. I support it because Gay Pride means supporting someone who is accepting their true self.  

Why do I find this important?

Because when a person is unable to change who they are, and people refuse to accept who they are, they end up hating themselves. People who hate themselves end up turning that hate on others and causing harm. For example, I believe closeted gay men often turn that self-hate on women, resenting them for not finding them attractive, and resenting other gay men, who are out of the closet, living their best lives.  I wouldn’t be surprised to find some of the more vitriol podcast bros who claim to be Alphas while spewing despairing remarks about women who “have been run through” are closeted gay men, wallowing in their self-loathing. I wish they would get the hell out of the closet and just be themselves and find happiness, for all of our sakes.

I am a liberal and I don’t believe in lowering the marriage age so men in their twenties or older can find a loophole to legally have sex with children.

I am a liberal and I believe we should honor the words of the Pledge of Allegiance, Liberty and Justice for all.

I am a liberal who believes our elected officials—beginning from the president of the United States down, are employees of the American citizens. American citizens are not the subjects of the US. Government. 

I am  liberal who believes we should be able to fire our elective officials if they break their oath to protect and defend the US Constitution.

I am a liberal who believes in the First Amendment, and even if someone says something I adamantly disagree with, it doesn’t mean I have the right to shoot them. However, the First Amendment also means I have the right to express my dislike for the person who was shot, without getting arrested. 

I am a liberal who is weary of people weaponizing and re-defining words like indoctrination, woke, and feminism.  As a writer, I understand how words matter. 

For example…

Indoctrination is the process of teaching a person or group to accept a set of beliefs uncritically.  Indoctrination is what happens when many parents send their children to church. They are taught to believe what the minister teaches—without question. I am not suggesting a parent doesn’t have the right to send their children to church, but let’s stop pretending it isn’t indoctrination.

In college we are introduced to different ideas and taught to critically think—question everything. That is the opposite of indoctrination. Words matter.

Woke is a slang term that addresses being aware of social and racial injustices. If someone seriously believes there are no social and racial injustices in this country, they are extremely naïve or willfully ignorant. Those politicians who boast about eliminating woke from the government are simply saying they would rather ignore this country’s problems than try to fix them.

Feminism is simply about social, political, and economic equality, regardless of sex. Feminism is not about hating men, or shaming stay at home moms. It’s about allowing women to decide if they want to be stay at home moms or work outside the home. It’s about allowing women the ability to support themselves and not be forced to stay in an abusive relationship, which was often the case back when women were limited in job opportunities, could not open their own bank account, or own property.

Liberals who are like me, don’t want to see people we disagree with shot in the street. For one thing, we understand that violence begets violence. If we find their words reprehensible, we prefer to exercise our own First Amendment right by protesting in the street, posting on social media, or writing an opinion piece. 

We also understand if someone we disagree with is murdered, they can become a martyr, or we will somehow be blamed for their death.

I imagine by now you have figured out Charlie Kirk’s death inspired this blog post. From what I have already written, it is probably no surprise to you that I disagreed with many of Kirk’s views.

What were my first thoughts when I heard he was shot? Honestly? Initially I got that same sick in the pit of my stomach feeling I get whenever I hear about another school shooting. To me, in that moment, it was another school shooting.

My next thought, I prayed he survived. I will be honest, that prayer did not stem from any deep concern of Kirk in particular—it was my concern for my country. After processing who was shot, I realized his death would have significant political implications. I have lived through a few political assassinations—JFK, MLK, and RFK, and I remember the turmoil and pain it brought our country. 

After I heard about his death, I felt an unexpected pang of deep sorrow for Kirk and his family, especially for his children. I imagine conservatives question why it was “unexpected” while some on the other side might wonder why I would feel anything for a person actively indoctrinating our youth with what they deem misogynist and racists views. 

Let me explain…

Age is a funny thing. I am on my way to seventy-one, and in some ways, it feels as if I am not getting older—everyone else is just getting younger. My daughter recently turned 43. Heck that was about the age my parents were when I graduated high school. But to me 43 seems so much younger now. And Charlie was eleven years younger than my daughter. In my brain, he was practically a kid. 

So yeah, part of that sorrow was for his youth, and another was for his family, especially his young children. And still another part was that his premature death meant he wouldn’t be able to continue to experience life, gain new insights, and perhaps come to change some of his views. I know personally how an additional forty years of life can drastically change one’s perspective.

But he didn’t make it. And now our country is further divided. There are some who don’t have Americans’ best interest in mind who are using Charlie Kirk’s death to further divide us.

Divided we fall.

(Photo: Me and Bruno, 50 years ago, Oregon road trip.)