If you ask any longtime member of the Democratic party or moderate member of the Republican party, what the number one question on their mind is, they would likely reply, “ What is going on?”. The political landscape that was well known by longtime policy makers, bureaucrats, academics, and engaged citizens, has changed dramatically, in what seems overnight. We all might be fighting over the same issues, but it seems like for radically different reasons and in incredibly different ways. Name calling used to be frowned upon. We all thought it was unacceptable to tweet about nuclear war. Now things have changed. For those of us who thought we knew what we were doing, we are finding ourselves in uncharted territory. Our compasses don’t work, our maps are out of date, and the batteries in our flashlight are dead. We are forced to adapt to this new terrain and come up with a new strategy.
Instead of talking about the mess our political environment as a whole, I want to particularly focus on our dialogue and the new concept “safe spaces”. If you would have asked my opinion on safe spaces a few years ago, I would have laughed at them dismissively. Safe spaces hardly seem practical in the real world, and if you can’t handle the heat, maybe you shouldn’t be playing in the first place. This entire perspective changed for me, when I became someone who needed a safe place. As a survivor of sexual assault, I found myself extremely grateful for people, institutions, and laws that were put in place to make me safe. They were not a luxury to me, they were something that was a necessity. Without them, there was no room for me in the “real world”. I commend the Democratic party for pushing and championing for safe places, within the atmosphere of political discussion.
I also challenge them to provide the same safe places for Republicans. This is where things get messy. The ultimate question always looming over our liberals heads, “If I empathize with this person who believes harmful things, am I turning my back on myself and people less privileged than me? Am I empathizing with an abuser?”. This is a hard question to handle in the face of pervasive racism, sexism, and discrimination that is running rampant in our country. Two things we know for sure must happen. We must for certain engage with the “other side”. The side we forgot about, that reared its angry and forgotten head, the side we thought didn’t matter. We also must figure out a way to engage with people who believe in different things than we do, while still holding onto our values and protecting those who need safe places.
If no other conclusion is drawn from this discussion, we must conclude, now more than ever, people of privilege must step up to challenge and enter into “unsafe places” of discussion, where some of us can not go yet. If it is wrong to say racist slurs, it is equally wrong to ask someone who has been traumatized by racism, to engage with a racist, in order to benefit their country. As someone who has recovered, I feel that it is my responsibility towards those who are still in recovery, to have hard discussions about rape culture and consent with people who think differently. Ignoring our fellow citizens who think differently is not going to work. Yelling angry chants at them will not change our situation. If it could, we would not be here right now, on the brink of having Title IX revoked. There is no guarantee this dialogue will work quickly, painlessly, or even work at all. There is only the hope of trying something different than our previous approach. Most importantly, like any good strategist would say, for every strategy there is a reevaluation period, where we can all come together and see where have failed and where we have healed. At least the academics will be glad to crunch some numbers again.