Seeing

Posted byjimmcgarrahPosted inLiterary

The difference between having empathy for people and making excuses for their behavior is often blurred by our emotions to the point that the distinctions may get lost in a swamp of good intentions and drown. I have a friend, a great writer and a compassionate, kind-hearted, person. Even though those two things are not mutually exclusive, they are still rare in combination. I cherish her for that. 

She is convinced that many of us who claim to be liberals are too accusatory of the impoverished white people in an area of the country that many of us have written off as home to “poor white trash” or “dumb hillbillies” because they support Republican ideals and corrupt politicians to their own detriment. Her argument has much to recommend it and is creditable up to a point for me, beyond which I cannot travel. Its center lies in the thesis that people like them can’t help voting for corrupt and vile humans like Mitch McConnell who continually receive a large majority of votes in these parts of the country based on promises that never get fulfilled. But rather, their circumstances created by those unfilled promises trap them into repeating the same patterns every election. I believe there is much truth in that, but after generations of economic and educational poverty, it begins to sound more like an excuse than a reason.

The truth seems more complex, and I expect it has its roots in a community feeling that resembles the individual disorder that keeps battered women living with their abusers. Programs have been implemented during various Democrat reigns that would alleviate some of the problems created by the loss of coal mining revenues, school closings, hospital shortages, and factory jobs lost to oversees labor. For example, the Obama administration created job training programs to ease the transition from coal mining to more stable and better paying jobs. Democrat governors in the state have kept Medicaid available and improved schools. Obama Care allowed many residents to have health insurance that could never afford it ordinarily. It is the use of liberal safety nets that keep food stamps and welfare distributed. This demographic welcomes the safety nets provided and then votes for conservative Republican candidates that push to get them eliminated. They refuse to use Democrat-sanctioned training programs continually. Oh, they will use the Affordable Care Act, but not Obamacare. Evidently irony is not a thing.

The result of this arrogance and cognitive dissonance is a constant renewal of gross poverty, sickness, and stupidity for each new generation. For me, empathy works better for those choose to benefit from it. Ignorance is curable. Sympathy is a completely different matter. I do feel sympathy for those who take pride in stupidity.

Published by jimmcgarrah

Every single person on this planet is unique in many ways and yet, most people consider themselves normal (i.e. conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected). This dichotomy is how good writing works. It contains uniqueness in the characters or narrator and a normal progression of ideas in themes. Thus, a story will be appealing if it has unique specificity in a normalized world of some kind and that creates a universal connection between writer and reader. This symbiotic connection as an oxymoron, normal uniqueness, has always fascinated me, not only on the page but more importantly, in life. Over the past twenty years I have written a dozen books. None have made me famous or rich, but I am proud of the work. It has been published by respectable literary and university presses. My editors have been talented and conscientious and brought the best of what I do to the page. But publishing is not all of my writing life. I have long wanted a private space where I could more fully express this exploration between individuality and society normalcy without regard to the business of writing, the correction of images, the political implication of phrases, and while considering there might be an audience to some of what is written, not worrying about whether it would sell. Therefore, I give you my very first and likely last, public blog. It will explore whatever I feel like exploring at a given time in whatever form I choose—maybe a poem, maybe an essay, maybe a story, or possibly a simple “fuck you” to the world. Read at your own peril and comment whenever you want. I encourage dialogue as a learning tool for writer and reader alike. I do not expect agreement with all my ideas. That would eliminate the entire uniqueness side of my inquiry. This is a free space for us all.

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