A lesson from Vietnam

My dad served in the Vietnam War. It was not a “popular” war. Many Americans believed we fought for the wrong side. Our military was ill-prepared for guerilla warfare, which resulted in high rates of injuries and death. Drafts were necessary to fill the ranks, but coerced soldiers did not make committed soldiers. Long deployments, resentful soldiers, and brutal conditions led to lack of discipline. This environment became an accelerant for angry men. Brutal attacks on civilians stained the entire military. When my dad returned home, despite his honorable service, his uniform was met with scorn, derision, and disrespect. These combined experiences fueled years of heavy drinking. It took two rounds of rehab, before he was able to conquer his demons and overcome the damage from that painful period in his life.

My husband served in the war on terrorism. He deployed twice – once to Afghanistan and once to Iraq. He returned home from these deployments carrying the weight of battlefield experiences we still do not discuss. While most Americans supported the initial foray into Afghanistan, the move into Iraq was less popular. As casualties rose, calls against the war increased. Despite rising disapproval, my husband returned from his deployments to praise, parties, and overwhelming gratitude. Strangers regularly walked up to him in the street to shake his hand and thank him for his service. Businesses offered discounts and free services as a token of their appreciation. Sometime between Vietnam and the war on terrorism, our country learned to separate the soldier from the system waging war. My husband did not have to carry the added weight of a disapproving nation.

We are in desperate need of bringing this same understanding to the men and women who comprise our police force. Our anger and dissatisfaction with the criminal justice system’s militarization of our police force is justified. Our demands for change must continue, but we need to save our condemnation for the policemen who earned it and point our anger and demands towards the system that created and enabled these men to do harm.  

It’s here we feel the depth of your sacrifice.  And here we see a piece of our larger American story.  Our Founders -- in their genius -- gave us a task.  They set out to make a more perfect union.  And so it falls to every generation to carry on that work.  To keep moving forward.  To overcome a sometimes-painful past.  To keep striving for our ideals.

And one of the most painful chapters in our history was Vietnam -- most particularly, how we treated our troops who served there.  You were often blamed for a war you didn’t start, when you should have been commended for serving your country with valor. You were sometimes blamed for misdeeds of a few, when the honorable service of the many should have been praised.  You came home and sometimes were denigrated, when you should have been celebrated. (President Obama, May 28, 2012)

We cannot ignore the horrible atrocities we have seen committed against Black men and women at the hands of policemen. We owe their victims justice and systemic change. But we also cannot turn a blind eye to the many policemen and women who show heroism, valor, and a selfless disregard for their own personal safety. These men and women deserve recognition. They deserve gratitude. Vietnam taught us what happens when we choose a principle over people. The war on terrorism taught us we can choose people and principle. We do not have to choose between disavowing the institution and the people doing right within that institution. We can defend policemen and women and still push for police reform.  We can support the Black Lives Matter movement and still support the men and women in blue.

Let us learn from our mistakes; let us keep moving forward; let us strive for our ideals but let us stop doing it at the expense of good people. Inequity cannot be righted by contributing to further inequity. 

The Scarlet Letter

The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread. Shame, Despair, Solitude! These had been her teachers—stern and wild ones—and they had made her strong but taught her much amiss.  – Nathaniel Hawthorne

I published my first blog, A Skinny Girl’s Quest to Get Healthy, in 2010. It was a way to create a community of accountability partners and motivate myself to work out. I like writing. I do not like to exercise. Starting my blog worked incredibly well to kickstart my first long-term journey to get healthy. A few years later, when my work location moved from a five-minute to an hour-long commute, I found it challenging to maintain a regular exercise schedule, and I began to falter. When my daughter was diagnosed with moyamoya disease four years ago, my efforts at working out stopped altogether. In those rare moments I had to myself, I found myself on the couch watching Lifetime Movies and researching the next doctor, the next medical treatment, the next hope. I had no time or energy for exercise. Self-care went out the window.

I lost my father almost a year ago. He became a lesson for what happens when we do not place a value on exercise in our lives. It began with a knee injury. He went from walking several miles a day to inactivity. By the time he was diagnosed with cancer, he had lost most of his strength and was only able to walk short distances. Inactivity prior to his diagnosis left him with few physical reserves. He moved quickly from walking slowly to a wheelchair, from being independent to dependent. His last year was spent confined to a lazy boy recliner. By the time he passed, I knew I had to start moving again. I knew I had to prioritize my own health. But recognizing what I ought to do and doing it were two different things. It took eight months, a pandemic, and an accountability partner to motivate me to do the right thing.

Life presents us with these types of situations. We know what we ought/need to do, but doing it is hard, uncomfortable, or has potential for pain. A friend cites black advantage; instead of leaning into the conversation, we change the subject. The politician we support is crossing ethical and moral lines; instead of demanding accountability, we keep silent. Our minister is preaching that love is not love; instead of walking out, we stay seated.

Some days we are better at meeting these moments. Some days we avoid these moments and some days we fail miserably at our response to them. In a world where our lives are on 24-hour display across social media feeds, however, these failed moments can define us.

Recently a video went viral of a woman in Central Park who was asked to leash her dog by a black man. Instead of respecting the request, she argued with the man and then called the police. That five-minute failure has forever branded the woman with the scarlet letter “R.” She has been publicly shamed, had her dog taken away by the group she adopted it from, lost her job, and has most recently been charged with false reporting. Even the victim has said he is unwilling to participate in her prosecution.

Social media has fostered an environment where we feel compelled to quickly brand each other right or wrong, deserving, or undeserving, good or bad, racist or anti-racist, Trumper or anti-Trumper, one of us or one of them. We shame, we point, we “righteously” expose. But shame and accusation rarely serve to change a person’s point of view or make the world a better place.

Will our viral condemnation move this woman’s heart from hate to love? Will this societal reaction deter future racist behavior? Perhaps... Or perhaps our “righteous response” will push her and others further into the corner of hate. 

You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things. Romans 2:1 NIV

It is easy to sit on our pedestals and think, I would never... But we all fall on a spectrum between good, bad, and human. EVERYONE fails at some point in their lifetime. When failure finds us, we can only pray that we have someone standing on the opposite side of that moment offering accountability, respect, and dignity, not just a mob of angry people building an insurmountable wall of shame.

Jesus has shown us that everyone deserves grace.