Dealing with an Unfair World

I am angry. Actually, angry is too specific to define the current emotional state I find myself in. Disappointed, furious, resigned, and exhaustion color my mood as I walk to grab a late night coffee before settling in for a night of work on numerous assignments. As I collect myself before I am immersed back into interaction with another human being, a word pops into my head: Indignation.

I have just walked out of the university library where I have been analyzing research on transgender specific policy in the United States. To be blunt, it is woefully inadequate in some areas and utterly hateful in others. The specifics of these policies are almost irrelevant at the moment, all I feel is indignation. Indignation that some states cling stubbornly to archaic and anti-humanistic practices, indignation that support for the transgender community is often meet with hateful hostility and bigoted responses, and indignation that there is a necessity for these policies in the first place. How difficult can it be to understand people choose to end their own existence when confronted with the utter distain of some individuals? Why do people abide by this doctrine of hatred when they were taught to “love all as they love themselves?” Why are people so slow to change when the clear and present danger exists to so many fellow human beings? Why…just why?

This is not limited to the transgender community. The last two weeks has seen the escalation of debate on allowing Syrian refugees into the United States. The last two months have seen the progressive policies trumpeted by numerous politicians decried publicly by opponents. The last two decades have seen the validity of climate change consistently challenged by various institutions. Questions are asked hoping to gain insight into the opposition, and again the indignation rises as unsatisfying rationale is given in response. Time and time again, I am left feeling there is a distinct lack of empathy in the responses. A common theme in negative feedback regarding Syrian refugees is: “That is very selfish of you. If you want these people in our country, then why don’t you open up your own house to them and take on the responsibility personally?”

Selfish. I remember learning from my Mom and Dad what it meant to be selfish: not sharing toys with my friends, crying if we did something that I didn’t want to, and saying mean words if I was upset at someone who did better on a test or played a better game on the football field than me. Since when has helping our fellow man been deemed to be selfish? In fact, it is normally viewed of an act of selflessness.

Selfless. I also remember learning about this concept from my Mom and Dad too: Hold the door for your friends; it is not about being first, help someone who needs help with homework, comfort someone who is having a bad day. So when did helping others become selfish? Did it magically happen when we were confronted by the painful reality of the world around us? Or maybe it was the realization that the world is not as simplistic as we originally thought. There very rarely is the good vs. evil narrative we were taught about growing up in the world, maybe this is where we lose our ability to see the world through a child’s eyes.

Helplessness starts to sink in. It seems so unfair, the world being held hostage by such ignorance and selfishness. How can I hope to accomplish anything? The research I conduct will most likely never be viewed after it is presented next week. Bigoted fools and ignorant followers will continue to proclaim hateful rhetoric towards people who need sympathy and love. Titans of industry and the people whose pockets are bulged by the industry during reelection season will continue to deny science and in order to secure the highest bottom line. I feel myself slipping into a dark place; the necessity to lash out at those whose fear-mongering sways the masses begins to creep into my thoughts.

All these thoughts flash through my mind as I wait in line for a coffee. Finally, I give my order and am forced to interact with another human being. I happen to know the person behind the counter and she can greet me by name as well. We have a brief conversation about our plans for the Holidays; she smiles and gives me my drink and we go our separate ways for the evening. I am left with such a glow, an absolute joy that I had lacked moments earlier, and it comes from such a mundane task. The dark burning rage is gone and replaced by benevolence. I think to my task for the night, analyzing the Maine Human Rights Act and its amendments as it pertains to gender identity. Instead of anger, disappointment, and exhaustion, I feel liberated, determined, and hopeful. I may not be able to sway the masses and fix the world, but I can play my part. A part of the beautifully diverse human machine that progresses social justice, peace, and inclusivity around the world.