A few months ago I went to a town hall meeting. It was hosted by the Republican congressman from the district next to mine (the one from my district is even worse). It was a packed house, with attendance seeming to fall close to even along party lines. Before the meeting began, the crowd was asked to stand and face the flag to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Everyone stood and turned towards the front-left corner of the large room where the flag was erected and chanted in unison.
I did not participate. As everyone else stood and recited, I remained in my seat and silent. From what I could tell, I was the only person in attendance to do so. I was honestly afraid I was going to catch a lot of hate for it, but my silent protest seemed to go largely unnoticed. Of course, I’m just some woman from Podunk, North Carolina. I’m not on any big stage or under any bright spotlight to where all eyes are upon me. The football players in the NFL however, are.
A year or so ago, San Francisco quarterback Colin Kapernick began a silent protest where, during the pre-game National Anthem, he knelt instead of standing (previously he sat). There was a public outcry as people demanded he stand for the Anthem, saying his actions disrespected America and the military. The turmoil ultimately concluded in his football career ending long before it should have. However, this year dozens of NFL players (as well as players in other sports) have followed his example. They kneel, they lock arms, sometimes they just stay in the locker room. Their protest has nothing to do with the armed forces. No, it was to draw attention to the epidemic of police brutality against African American men in America. Across the country, black men (and some women) are being gunned down during stops for minor infractions or even when they’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. These poor souls have lost their lives due to police racism. To make matters worse, the deceased often get no justice as the officers committing the crimes aren’t even charged. It’s disgusting, it’s unjust, and it absolutely needs to stop.
I join these people in solidarity. Their cause is just and their method is sound. I personally have not stood for the Anthem or the Pledge in at least a couple of years now. What they’re speaking out about, what they’re drawing attention to, desperately needs to be a part of the cultural conversation right now. Of course, those who are decrying the action keep changing the subject. “How dare you disrespect the troops!” they yell, as if that had anything to do with their protest. “Find a more appropriate way to protest!” they whine, as if they’d be satisfied with any outcome other than black men going back to quietly doing what they’re told. And when they see me participating, it turns to, “why are you kneeling; you’re white!”.
First and foremost, I kneel because I agree with the message. The cause of equal justice for black Americans would be won by now if white people would lend their voices. For as much as I talk about transgender struggles on this blog (we’re getting to that, by the way), I’ll be the first to tell you that I unfairly enjoy an exorbitant amount of white privilege. I don’t experience fear when interacting with the police. I’ve never had my job application passed by because I had a “black sounding” name. I’ve never been labeled a thug. I’ve never worried that the legal system would impose on my a ludicrous penalty for a small infraction. I’ve never had someone be afraid to sit near me or to walk past me on the street. That’s not my world, and it’s not fair that it’s theirs. Because of that, I kneel during the National Anthem.
But that’s not the only reason…
Before I keep going, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: when talking about National Anthem protests, the conversation needs to first and foremost be about the mistreatment of African Americans in our society, if it’s about anything else at all. That is the focus. It is where the spotlight must shine. I’m close to 800 words in now before even mentioning anything other than that and that’s very much on purpose. Black lives matter, and I’ll shout it anywhere, anytime. But I kneel for another reason, too. For as much as I enjoy white privilege, it can’t be denied that the United States has been really shitty when it comes to the treatment of transgender people and it’s only gotten worse in the years since marriage equality was finally legalized (that’s a tease for a future post).
In just the last year, the Justice Department has removed bathroom protections for transgender students. In just the last month or two, President Fuhrer Trump has tried to ban transgender people from serving in the military and Nikki Haley voted in the United Nations not to ban countries from executing gay people. In just the last week, Jeff Sessions announced that Title VII would no longer protect transgender people from workplace discrimination. We’ve fought bathroom bill after goddamn bathroom bill in states all over the country. America is trying very hard to make transgender people go away, and you wonder why I won’t respect a song honoring America?
You really think I’m going to be thankful for my freedom under these circumstances? You really expect me to stand up for a nation that keeps trying to kick me down? Hell no! I will not show this flag, this song, and certainly not this country that kind of respect; it hasn’t earned it. Let’s face a cold, hard truth: America is an embarrassment. I don’t even fly the American Flag outside of my house anymore. The last time I took it down because there was a storm coming I couldn’t stomach the thought of putting it back up. When I look at the Stars and Stripes, all I think about is the injustice, the intolerance, the bigotry, and the ignorance-worshiping nationalism it truly represents. When I see “Old Glory”, I think about all the times I’ve had to call my elected officials and beg them not to either kick me out of the bathroom or take away my healthcare. When I hear the National Anthem, I here a chorus of voices calling me a “freak”, a “monster”, a “deviant”, a “sinner”, and a “pervert”. I feel no pride in America, and I won’t pretend to.
Now, if you’re getting all red in the face while reading this and thinking ‘well just move if you hate America so much!’, this next part’s for you. I’m not going to do that. See, for as much as I consider America as a whole a dark spot on the world these days, there are plenty of Americans I’m rather fond of. There are wonderful people in my community, people who represent love, compassion, understanding, tolerance, and unity. I’m proud of my life and the things I’ve accomplished. I’m proud of my family. These are all things I’ve earned, not because of the promise of America, but in spite of what this nation has tried to keep me from. I will fight to see this nation transformed into what it has the potential to be. I will work tirelessly to ensure the promise of safety and prosperity is fulfilled for everyone. When we achieve that kind of America, then I will stand up with my hand over my heart and sing, “Oh say can you see…”