An American Dad, an American Girl Special

Scooby, Scooby-Doo, Can’t See You

When I was in the third grade, my mom gave me some devastating news:

Son, you are going back to Chinese School!

I was shocked. Incredulous, I asked if she was kidding. But she was totally serious. Our church, an ethnic Chinese Christian church, was launching its own Chinese School, and I was going to be a student.

I broke down crying, on the spot.

That’s because I had just escaped, months before, from my previous Chinese School, without any thought that I’d ever have to go back. Not literally escaped, of course; Chinese School wasn’t actually a prison, though to me as a suburban eight-year-old Chinese American boy, it felt as much like a sentence to hard labor as anything I’d known.

That’s because my Chinese School had meant a weekly hour-and-a-half to two hours reading, writing, and repeatedly drilling Chinese words and phonetics, using textbooks with pictures that seemed decades old and completely foreign. It meant additional homework and test prep on top of my daily regular school homework and piano practice time.

It also meant having to hear over and over again, ad nauseam, lectures from grown-ups on why it was important for me as an ethnic Chinese kid to know the language of my people, and that I’d appreciate it all when I got older. Worst of all, it meant that I had to miss Saturday morning cartoons, like new episodes of Scooby-Doo, in an era that predated VCRs (which my younger readers may not know stands for Video Cassette Recorders – and I hope I don’t have to explain to you what a cassette is).

And now, my parents were putting me back into dreaded Chinese School.

tv
We even had to get up to change the channel.

Girl in the Balance

An American Girl Story – Ivy and Julie 1976: A Happy Balance shows a similar struggle for its central character, Ivy Ling, a ten-year-old Chinese American girl living in San Francisco in the mid-1970s. Like me, and like almost every Chinese American kid I’ve ever known, she can’t stand Chinese School. The first time we see her in class, she’s sneaking peeks at a gymnastics magazine, because that’s where her heart really is, with her local gymnastics club preparing for an all-city competition. Her disdain for Chinese School grows only stronger as she misses the extra practice sessions she desperately needs before All-City; ironically, those are scheduled at exactly the same time as her Chinese School classes.

Early in Ivy and Julie, we also hear Ivy express her weariness at having to eat Chinese food every day, and we witness her quiet embarrassment when her mother speaks Cantonese to her in front of her gymnastics teammates. Watching the special, the adult in me felt like she was being kind of whiny up to that point, but simultaneously, I could absolutely see myself in her and empathize.

It’s been thirty-five years since I was her age, but I very clearly remember the intensity of those sorts of feelings. It’s surprising that those emotions feel quite near to me even now.

Ivy’s own angst becomes overwhelming when she realizes that the big gymnastics meet takes place at the exact same time as the mother-of-all-Ling-Family-Chinese-New-Year dinners, a banquet her parents definitely expect her to attend. As in the book on which the special is based, Lisa Yee’s AG novel Good Luck, Ivy, our heroine faces what, to her, seems an impossible choice – All-City or the family banquet.

The Amazon special sticks fairly closely to the main plot line of my friend Lisa Yee’s book.

Really, Ivy is dealing with more than just a decision between those two options. Even at a young age, she’s wrestling, albeit unconsciously, with the question, “What does it mean for me to be an American?”

It’s a struggle familiar to so many of us who are people of color and/or the descendants of recent immigrants. How much do we embrace good, ol’-fashioned American values and traditions, which we non-whites often identify with white American culture? And how much do we retain the beliefs and practices of our ancestors from distant lands?

This dynamic gives rise to the special’s subtitle: A Happy Balance. Yes, Ivy is working intensely to nail her routine on the balance beam. But on top of that, she’s trying very hard to reconcile, or to balance, her Western values (“All-City is really important to me”) and her Chinese, Confucian values (“the family takes precedence over the individual”).

Played winsomely and with a lot of range by Nina Lu (Bunk’d), Ivy deals with these existential questions with the help of her best bud Julie Albright, portrayed with calm confidence by Hannah Nordberg (Dolly Parton’s Coat of Many Colors). Their on-screen BFF-ship captures the warm, easy bond that the characters share in the AG books depicting their adventures.

In a way, you could say the story is about not just one, but three American girls: Ivy (Nina Lu), her BFF Julie (Hannah Nordberg), and her mother Marilyn (Gwendoline Yeo).

Yet Ivy finds a lot of added support in her mom, which is somewhat surprising given the conflicts they have. Gwendoline Yeo (Grey’s Anatomy, American Crime) hits all the right notes as mother Marilyn Ling. In fact, her character’s story is similar to Ivy’s in that Marilyn felt compelled to go to law school, which meant an end to her years of helping at her parents’ Chinese restaurant. Her own choice was not all that different from the one Ivy faces.

Notable encouragement also comes Ivy’s way from those restaurant-owning grandparents, whom she calls Po-Po and Gung-Gung. They’re played laugh-out-loud delightfully by veteran actors Elizabeth Sung (Pali Road, Front Cover) and Tzi Ma (Arrival, The Man in the High Castle).

Po-Po (Elizabeth Sung) and Gung-Gung (Tzi Ma) cook up something deeply meaningful with granddaughter Ivy (Nina Lu). (Photo: American Girl)

Winning

It is very, very cool to me – “groovy” would be the word that Ivy and Julie use, perhaps while munching on Jiffy Pop popcorn, talking on their corded phones, or listening to records – that this AG special is the first one I’ve seen that really delves into what it means to be an American girl. I haven’t seen all of the AG specials or the lengthier films, but the several that I have seen don’t show their protagonists trying to make sense of how they can be both fully American and fully _____ (fill in the blank). Their identity as Americans is just assumed.

But that’s not the case with Ivy and Julie, which makes it a terrific conversation starter between parents and kids on issues of culture, ethnicity, and nationality. At 44 minutes in length, it even works well for elementary school teachers wanting to engage their students on such topics. And though the story is set in 1976, it can definitely spark discussions, quite timely given our current political scene, about immigrants, why they come to America, and what they contribute to our nation.

This special is a winner on several other fronts, too. For one thing, Ivy and Julie continues AG’s long tradition of excellence in storytelling. Yes, the dolls can be expensive. But the books and videos show us girl characters that are the empowered, resourceful, and compassionate heroines of their own stories. These materials are notable as well for their superb depictions of the historical backdrops against which the stories are set.

In addition, Ivy and Julie continues AG’s increased emphasis on diverse characters. It’s a shift that seems at least partly a response to the huge outcry raised by Asian American families and activists a few years ago, when the Ivy Ling doll was “archived,” or retired. (I traced some of that history last September in this blog post.)

This recent emphasis is most clearly seen among its dolls. I mentioned previously on this blog the new WellieWishers line of five smaller and more affordable dolls. Three of these are dolls of color, including the Asian character, Emerson. (She’s my younger daughter’s favorite.)

Last year, AG also added a second African American doll to its BeForever historical line. Melody Ellison’s story is set in Detroit during the 1960s Civil Rights Movement; it was produced with significant input from African American community leaders and educators, including the late Julian Bond. Subsequently, Amazon released the first of its AG specials, with Marsai Martin (Black-ish) as Melody.

AG’s new dolls for 2017 keep building on the trend. The current Girl of the Year is Gabriela McBride, the first African American doll to receive that honor. Later this year, AG will release a Korean American doll, Suzie Yang, who’ll go by “Z” for short, as well as Nanea Mitchell, a Native Hawai’ian doll whose story will be set in World War 2-era Hawai’i Territory.

Here comes Korean American doll Suzie “Z” Yang! (Graphic: American Girl)

But not only do the newer dolls demonstrate how the iconic brand values diverse American girls, Ivy and Julie does, too! I really appreciate how AG went out of its way to make this program, and I have to think that it’s because AG’s execs truly heard the deep disappointment from Asian Americans at Ivy’s retirement.

Here’s why I believe that: This special is the only feature-length AG video production released when its main character was in the archives. Plus, it’s the first AG special or movie that is not centered on either a main historical doll (Ivy was always Julie’s sidekick) or a Girl of the Year character.

It’s even significant that Ivy gets top billing in the title. It’s Ivy and Julie, not Julie and Ivy, and not even just Julie, which is what I would have expected from an AG story that included the much-beloved Julie Albright character.

So?

You might wonder why any of this is actually important, especially because it’s “just a movie” or “just entertainment.” Why fuss over all this stuff? If my girls liked it, which they very much did, and my wife and I were able to enjoy it with them, then that should be enough, right?

But it’s not enough! It’s vitally important that my daughters and all Asian American girls get to see and read stories that affirm both their Asian-ness and their American-ness. It fortifies their self-esteem and self-confidence to witness their uniquely Asian American struggles depicted as normal and common. And it boosts their resilience and ambition to identify with someone who looks like them, someone who is the heroine of her own adventure, and not simply the sidekick or supporting cast.

There’s a scene in Ivy and Julie where the two girls are looking through a teen magazine, imagining which hairstyle Ivy would want from among the celebrities pictured. After a few pages, after seeing only photos of white and Black folks, Ivy looks at Julie and sighs, “None of these people look like me.”

That scene. (Photo: American Girl)

It’s a moment that just about every Asian American girl experiences at some point, and likely at many points, as she grows up. It really doesn’t have to be that way, and it really shouldn’t.

Dear American Girl, thank you so much for what you’re doing to ensure that it isn’t that way! This feminist Asian dad is extremely grateful.

And my dear readers, please see the special here; my family and I very much recommend it! You’ll need an Amazon Prime membership, but if you don’t have one, you can sign up for a free one-month trial.

Let me know what you think on Facebook and Twitter!

Aww, Julie’s matching Ivy’s gymnastics leotard!

Pièce de Résistance

 

It’s one of the most powerful moments in Mary Kathryn Nagle’s brilliant play Fairly Traceable:

Erin, a young Native American environmental lawyer, explains to her also-Native ex-boyfriend why she must one day have children.

Earlier, she had argued in court that the oil industry should be liable for its role in the global warming that energized Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, storms that set records for their destruction and power in 2005. It’s an intensely personal matter for her. She’s a descendant of the Chitimacha Indians and a member of the small Pointe-au-Chien tribe, which experienced devastating losses when those storms smashed into coastal Louisiana.

Speaking with her ex Randy, Erin invokes the long history of American oppression against indigenous peoples:

Climate change isn’t the reason I can’t have kids. It’s the reason I have to have them. If I, as a Chitimacha woman, if I decide to not have kids, well, I’m just helping the United States government finish what it couldn’t quite complete a hundred years ago.

It hit me as an audience member, through my tears and sniffles, that for Erin, having and raising Pointe-au-Chien children would be an act of defiance. As I sat with my own thoughts the next day, it hit me that this scene very much speaks to my being a dad during the Trump administration. It tells me that raising children can be an act of resistance.

Jason Grasl and Kyla Garcia
Randy (Jason Grasl) and Erin (Kyla Garcia) at a happy point in their relationship. (Photo: Native Voices at the Autry)

Many of us who are deeply troubled by Donald Trump’s ascent to the most humanly powerful position in the world have spoken of resistance a lot since Election Day. We’ve especially used the term when discussing how we can respond to his administration’s numerous inhumane, racially scapegoating, financially self-serving, blatantly unchristian, and just plain bizarre actions, proposals, and statements.

We’ve also, naturally, created a hashtag, #resist, which has found a corollary, #persist, thanks to Mitch McConnell’s infamous quashing of Elizabeth Warren’s speech in the U.S. Senate. And some of us have even adopted the symbol of the Resistance, the good guys in the new series of Star Wars films.

Hayley Gilmore's Princess Leia Resistance
A poster created by artist Hayley Gilmore for the Washington, D.C. Women’s March. Visit her website.

Of course, when it comes to resisting, the stakes are much greater for real-life Natives than they are for me. As an ethnic Han Chinese, I am one of 1.3 billion of my people. The Pointe-au-Chien, on the other hand, number in the hundreds. Resisting societal and institutional injustice is for them a matter of survival, as it is for many Native tribes.

After all, the genocide of Native peoples never really ended. It is just less overt than it used to be.

The long-term nature of the suffering of Native peoples and other marginalized groups points to the value of raising kids to resist and persist as activists and allies. To succeed, the battle against injustice has to outlive us. So through our influence on the next generation, we can help to sustain movements that insist on treating all human beings with the dignity, respect, empathy, and love that Creator says they deserve.

This is a comfort to me. Like many folks engaged in social justice work, I have bouts of what I’ll call “activist’s guilt.” That’s the nagging sense that even after I’ve taken one, two, or more steps of action on a particular issue, I still haven’t done enough.

Sometimes, that’s true; I haven’t done enough. But other times, I have to recognize that I can only do my part, and I’ll have to count on others to do theirs, too. Repeatedly giving in to “activist’s guilt” leads to rapid burnout for many who engage in advocacy.

A recent example of my “activist’s guilt” centered on the women’s marches the day after Inauguration Day. Due to some family commitments, I wasn’t able to participate. I felt like I was doing something wrong by not going. A graphic that made the rounds on social media at the time captured my feelings:

Erin in Fairly Traceable reminds me that along with directly serving people who are facing oppression, and marching, organizing, and speaking out as an ally, my work as a parent can very much be an activist endeavor as well. Resisting and persisting happens as I educate my girls about discrimination, nurture their capacity for empathy, and help them determine ways to take action.

It seems like it’s paying off so far. My ten year old is passionate about many areas of social justice, and a couple of years ago, when her teacher asked her class members to name what they wanted to be when they grew up, she said an activist. (You bet your right and left pant legs that I was proud!) Later that year, when they were assigned to do first-person biographical reports on historical figures, my daughter departed from the standard list and decided on Maria Tallchief, America’s first world-famous ballerina, both because she loves dance and because Ms. Tallchief was a member of the Osage Nation.

When the time came for the California rite of passage known as the fourth grade missions project, she chose the mission that seemed to her the most liberal-minded toward Natives, San Luis Rey de Francia, while recognizing that the Spanish colonial project there was still tantamount to slavery. And a few weeks ago, when her fifth-grade class went to the school media room to watch Trump’s inauguration on TV, she asked to be exempted! (I did tell her afterward that I totally would have been okay if she had gone to see it, given the educational value of the occasion.)

My seven year old is passionate about environmental issues. At home, she monitors the rest of our family’s water usage because California is in the midst of a drought; she has drawn and posted reminders in both of our apartment’s bathrooms. If we’re driving around after dark, she points out neighborhoods and establishments that are causing excessive light pollution. When I referred to climate change recently in her hearing, she offered, “I hate climate change.” And a few weeks ago, when she saw #noDAPL painted on a car in our neighborhood, she exclaimed, “The Dakota pipeline!”

Trying to raise my daughters to be activists and allies makes my child-rearing an attempted act of resistance. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t also take other steps of action, but it does mean that how I parent is just as important as the rest of my advocacy work.

Cast 2
Randy (Jason Grasl) and Erin (Kyla Garcia), both on the right, at an awkward point in their relationship. Randy’s parents Mark (John Nielsen) and Carol (Jennifer Bobiwash) are calling at a rather inopportune time. The Meteorologist (Shyla Marlin, whose primary role in Fairly Traceable is that of Erin’s mother Suzanne) and Randy’s teenage sister Annie (Kinsale Hueston) bear witness to the moment. (Photo: Native Voices at the Autry)

I trust that Fairly Traceable will speak to you in a profound way, just as it did to me. The phrase “fairly traceable” is actually legal terminology from the pen of the late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. It appears in his 1992 majority opinion for Lujan v. Defenders of Wildlife.

But if you feel skittish about seeing a play that explores legal doctrine, let me assure you that this work isn’t dry or overly intellectual at all. Ms. Nagle has an uncanny ability, as both a playwright and law firm partner, to take issues of law and present them in ways that are not just educational, but entertaining and compelling. Her masterful play Sliver of a Full Moon does the same thing with the legislative process. In Sliver, she’s able to present the work of congressional coalition-building for the Violence Against Women Act as the pressure-packed, high-stakes drama that it really was for Native tribes.

Three days after seeing Fairly Traceable – and I’d love to see it again – I still feel like there’s more I need to process. That’s probably because the play taps into so many themes with deep human resonance. Heritage and ancestry, race and culture, romance and loss, family and faith, oppression and struggle, science and law, and life and death all intersect meaningfully during the two-hour performance, which includes a brief intermission. Experiencing Fairly Traceable was like going on a powerful journey during which I laughed a lot, cried some, and left hopeful.

Autry Final
Seeing Fairly Traceable was also an opportunity for me to finally meet some folks in person that previously I’d only known via phone, email, and/or social media! L to R: Jason Grasl, Some Guy, Mary Kathryn Nagle, Jennifer Bobiwash, and Chris Jorie. (Photo: Joan Marie Hurwit)

The play is clearly a labor of love for Native America, the environment, the state of Louisiana, and humanity as a whole. Ms. Nagle, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, was a student at Tulane Law School in New Orleans when Katrina hit, much like the lead characters Randy, played by Jason Grasl (Blackfeet), and Erin, played by Kyla Garcia (Taíno). Jennifer Bobiwash (Ojibway), Kinsale Hueston (Navajo-Diné), Chris Jorie, Shyla Marlin (Choctaw), and John Nielsen complete the outstanding cast, each of whom hits all the right notes with his or her character.

I rarely say that something is must-see, but Fairly Traceable is! It’s playing in Los Angeles at the Autry Museum’s Wells Fargo Theater through March 26. It’s recommended for ages 13 and up. See specific times and get tickets here.

What are you waiting for?

Fear Not - Parenting Is Resistance

For my previous posts about being an ally for my Native brothers and sisters, visit my old blog, Raising Asian American Daughters:

“#ChangeTheMascot, #NotYourMascot: Why Asian Americans Should Care”

“#NotYourTigerLily, Even for Young Kids. ESPECIALLY Because It’s Young Kids.”

“My First Indian Taco (and What It Means to Me)”

“Pope Francis’ Huge Mistake”

 

Published in print!

Hi friends!

I’m excited to share that I’ve been published in print for the first time! I’ve guest blogged for Christians for Biblical Equality before, but this time, they’ve honored me by inviting, then printing, an article of mine in their quarterly Mutuality Magazine. You can read my piece, “Defending My Daughters Against Rape Culture,” in the March 2017 issue on fatherhood, both on paper and online.

Special thanks to my editor Tim Krueger, a new dad himself!

Jimmy and Me

Our conversation lasted all of 10 seconds, but it will stay with me for the rest of my life. I’m speaking of the precious moment that I shared with one James Earl Carter, Jr. nearly 20 years ago in Dallas. I was a grad student; he was the former 39th President of the United States.

Better known by his preferred nickname Jimmy, the 70-something-year-old ex-POTUS sat that day at a small table in a cozy indie bookstore, signing copies of his new book Sources of Strength. The volume was billed as a compilation of his reflections on favorite Bible themes, and given his well-known history as a Sunday School teacher (a role he maintained even as president), it promised to be more than the standard existential musings of a former politician. So for the rare chance to meet a former president and buy a signed copy of his rather unique book, hundreds of us lined up out the door, around the corner, and down the block, braving the unusually cold, brisk December afternoon.

President Carter had long held a special place in my heart. It began in my childhood, when he was the sitting president; I learned that he and I shared the same birthday, October 1. (Recently, I learned that his daughter Amy shares with my elder daughter a birthday, October 19.) My fondness for him grew in his post-presidency years, as I learned how active he continued to be in helping people in need, particularly by building homes for Habitat for Humanity.

mark-humphrey-for-ap
Former President and Mrs. Rosalynn Carter work alongside husband-and-wife country singers Trisha Yearwood and Garth Brooks in Memphis, Tennessee, in November 2015. Since the mid-1980s, the Carters have volunteered one week of their time annually to help build houses with Habitat for Humanity. (Photo: Mark Humphrey, AP)

Two or three hours into my wait to see him, the line finally shortened enough that I could get inside the door and away from the chilly wind gusts. And there he was at the little table with pen in hand, looking much less intimidating than the tall, burly Secret Service agents that stood to either side of him.

My turn came, and as he began to sign my copy of his book, I said, “Mr. President, we share the same birthday!”

His succinct, Georgia-soaked reply came with warmth and a smile: “Well, take care of it for me, will ya?”

“I will!” I answered.

jimmy-carters-autograph
What all the fuss was about.

My conversation with the man took only a handful of seconds, but it has become a motivating force in my life. His quip referred merely to our shared birthday. Yet in recent years, it’s become to me a special charge, almost a passing of the baton, from him to me and millions of others to carry on our shared values.

One of those values that he has long advocated for is human rights. He made it a touchstone of his presidential foreign policy whenever he could, and he kept on speaking and writing about it after leaving office.

His most recent statement came late last year. Partly out of concern for the treatment of Palestinians in the occupied territories, he publicly and boldly requested that President Obama officially recognize the state of Palestine. At 92 years old, and battling metastatic cancer, this guy doesn’t quit! (He still teaches Sunday School weekly, too.)

President Carter has also been known as a peacemaker. His crowning achievement as president was negotiating the 1978 Camp David Accords, which led to historic diplomatic relations and a lasting peace between Israel and Egypt. In 2002, Carter was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his lifetime of peacebuilding work, which has also included the monitoring of elections in a number of countries and the dissemination of medicines to eliminate diseases in the developing world.

bob-daugherty-for-ap
Egyptian President Anwar Sadat, President Carter, and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin formalize the Camp David Accords. Sadat and Begin were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their roles. But within a few years, Carter and Begin were both out of office, and Sadat was dead, murdered by terrorists. (Photo: Bob Daugherty, AP)

That same year, he became the first sitting or former president to visit Cuba since Calvin Coolidge. His efforts at rapprochment with Fidel Castro decades earlier as POTUS paid off. During the 2002 visit, the dictator gave Carter permission to speak via radio to the entire island nation about the need for democratic reform, while simultaneously calling for an end to the American embargo on Cuba.

Another core principle of Carter’s: transparency. A mere two years after Watergate brought down the presidency of Richard Nixon, Carter campaigned on the promise that he would be a different kind of president. For one thing, he pledged to never lie to the American people.

This went over well with the electorate, but it was likely also a genuine expression of his heart. In his post-presidential years, he worked to increase transparency in election financing in other countries.

The pursuit of human rights, peacemaking, and transparency are just three of the values that so many of us share with former President Carter. We can continue to advocate and agitate for these as we receive the baton from him. Yet there’s one more of his core principles that especially resonates with me as a feminist father: his passion, now given the highest priority of his remaining years, for gender equality and ending violence against women and girls worldwide.

In his 2014 book A Call to Action: Women, Religion, Violence, and Power, the former president says:

I have become convinced that the most serious and unaddressed worldwide challenge is the deprivation and abuse of women and girls, largely caused by a false interpretation of carefully selected religious texts and a growing tolerance of violence and warfare, unfortunately following the example set during my lifetime by the United States.

Who would’ve thunk it, right? Jimmy Carter, feminist!

erik-s-lesser-for-european-pressphoto-agency
This is what a feminist looks like! It’s also what grace and courage look like; this is the press conference in August 2015 in which he announced his cancer diagnosis. (Photo: Erik S. Lesser, European Pressphoto Agency)

Carter’s belief in women’s rights is yet another of his deeply-held convictions that millions of us share, and that we must pursue. It is my commitment to do so as much as I possibly can for the rest of my life.

Of course, all of this is not to say that President Carter is without faults. Overall, he is not remembered as having been an effective leader during his term in office; that’s why he’s the only POTUS in the last 40 years besides George H. W. Bush to serve only one term.

Yet in recent weeks, many of us have looked upon our current president and bemoaned his glaring lack of maturity. I hope that even as we resist and persist, that we will find inspiration and strength in the lives of heroic Americans on whose shoulders we stand, like President Carter.

If I could tell him one thing now, I’d say, “Mr. President, this country that you’ve served all your life? We’ll take care of it for ya!”

In Cuba, 2002. Quote from A Call to Action, published in 2014. (Photo: The Carter Center)

The photo at the beginning of this post, showing President Carter on his 2007 Ghana trip, comes courtesy of The Carter Center. 

 

 

To the Brave 22 Women Who Told Us What Trump Did to Them

TW/CW: Sexual and verbal violence.

To the brave women who came forward with the truth of what Trump did to you:

I can only imagine what it’s been like for you these last several months. You had kept to yourself, or to just a few confidants, the story of what he did to you years ago. You handled the intense, lingering pain, confusion, and feelings of shame, each in your own way. Many of you probably thought you’d never need to talk about it ever again.

Clockwise from upper left: Temple, Jessica L., Natasha, and Rachel. (Photos: NBC News, New York Times, People Magazine, and LinkedIn.)
And then the world heard from the man, in his own words and voice, that he couldn’t help kissing women, that he enjoyed grabbing the most private areas of their bodies, and that because of his star power, they would let him.

And then the world heard more recordings:

  • In one, he allowed another man to wonder out loud whether his daughter had breast implants.
  • In another, he explicitly gave permission to the same man to call his daughter a “piece of ass.”
  • In a third, he boasted of getting away with deliberately walking in on contestants in his beauty pageants while they were naked.

And we heard his denials. It was just “locker room talk,” he said. Just stuff he said, but didn’t do.

Then, one by one, you began to bravely tell your stories of what he had done to you. You did so publicly, knowing what people would say.

They’d accuse you of making it up. They’d say the fact you waited until right before the election meant you were lying.

Not understanding the psychological effects of sexual harassment and assault, they would insist your story had to be fake because of something you said or did afterward. They’d accuse you of conspiring to get Hillary Clinton elected, or that you were doing it for attention, money, fame, or all of the above.

And you were right, they did say those things. Some, for good measure, also called you bitches, whores, sluts, cunts, and pussies.

Some said they would rape you.

Some even said they would kill you.

Most, perhaps even all, of these reactions were not a surprise to you, especially in this day and age.

Mindy, Cassandra, Nancy, and Jill. (Photos: Palm Beach Post, Miss Washington USA, Crescent Magazine, and Instagram.)
His denials went into an even higher gear. “Totally and absolutely false … fabricated … outright lies,” he said.

He blamed Clinton. He blamed the media.

He even called himself a victim.

In Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, near the hallowed ground on which thousands of soldiers died for the values Americans hold dear, he promised, “All of these liars will be sued after the election is over.”

You never really wanted anyone additional  to know about one of the most painful parts of your life, much less, literally, millions of strangers. But you felt like you had to tell your story. The stakes were too high. The country had to know the truth – that the nation was about to make a sexual predator the most powerful person on the planet.

But after a few days, people rallied to him, proclaiming their belief that he was the one telling the truth. Politicians, pundits, and prominent male evangelicals declared their disgust with his recorded comments but made clear they believed nothing else happened.

Without saying it explicitly, they called you liars, too.

Then on Election Day, he won, and hasn’t looked back.

Nor have his closest supporters, like his own Vice President-elect, who told multiple national networks on the morning of Friday, October 14, that by day’s end, there would be proof that all of you were lying.

As of the date of this blog post, 90 days have passed. We’re still waiting for that proof. And those lawsuits, for that matter.

Of course, we know that proof doesn’t exist. And that he was bluffing about those lawsuits, each of which would either expose his serial abuse in greater detail or would cause him to perjure himself.

Kristin, Cathy, Karena, and Summer. (Photos: Washington Post, People Magazine, Karena.tv, and Reuters.)
It shouldn’t take so many of you coming forward for Americans to believe you. False accusations of sexual assault are no more common statistically than any other major crime; research consistently shows that 92 to 98 percent of accusations are true. But the fact that so many of you have bravely told your stories gives the rest of us no excuse not to believe you. Like with Bill Cosby’s accusers, there is not only strength in numbers, there is no longer even a shadow of a doubt.

I do not know how or when the great injustices that have been done to you – the sexual violations, the years of pain, the retraumatization through public smears and vile threats – will be made right. I have faith that they one day will. Yet in the meantime, please know that you, and what you have been through, have not been forgotten as the political process and news coverage have moved on. Many millions of us believe you, the 22 that have spoken.

Temple, Jessica L., Rachel, Natasha, Mindy, Cassandra, Jill, Nancy, Kristin, Summer, Cathy, Karena, Ninni, Tasha and the other 2001 Miss USA contestant, Bridget, Jessica D., Mariah and Victoria and the three other 1997 Miss Teen USA contestants, we see you. We stand with you and with the others whose stories we have heard, but who have declined to speak publicly at this time.

Ninni, Jessica D., Mariah, and Tasha. (Photos: Facebook, The Guardian, Facebook, and Facebook.)
Thank you, thank you, thank you for speaking out. Your courage inspires ours as we rededicate ourselves to holding him and all abusers accountable, and to stopping violence against women and girls in every community, all over the world.

Better Call Him Saul

Now it’s really over. The electoral college vote is finally in the books, and Donald Trump is free of any remaining electoral hurdles to becoming the next President of the United States. The electoral votes aren’t formally counted until early January, but it’s now basically official; we’re looking at the end of President Obama’s time in office and the beginning of President Trump’s on January 20.

I need a blueprint for dealing with the Trump Administration.

As this reality continues to settle in for America and the world, I’d like to share a simple blueprint for dealing with Trump’s administration, for however long it lasts. From the looks of his continued hyper-Nixonian tendencies, which I’ll elaborate upon below, and his many alarming Cabinet and White House staff choices, there won’t be many things on which I’ll be able to support him. I know a lot of other liberals and progressives feel the same way.

As a Christian ever since childhood, and also as a former longtime evangelical Christian minister, I’m used to going to the Bible for wisdom in difficult times. My little blueprint for how to relate to the Trump Administration comes from that. More specifically, it comes from what Christians call the Old Testament, but which Jesus and other Jews through the centuries have called the Tanakh. The sections that most inform my blueprint are found there, among the histories of the kings of Israel.

The Wrong Comparison: King David

During the campaign, prominent evangelicals like Franklin Graham and Jerry Falwell, Jr. likened Trump to the biblical King David, who reigned over the kingdom of Israel in the tenth century B.C.E. Many other Christian leaders said something similar. It was part of the effort to encourage evangelicals to support Trump, despite his serial infidelity and frequent harsh rhetoric. (They mostly turned a blind eye to the many other ways he has seriously wronged other people, from inspiring hate crimes against people of color and Muslims, to defrauding people out of millions of dollars, to sexually violating nearly twenty women and girls, and so on.)

Trump and Graham in Mobile, Alabama, on Dec. 17, 2016. Photo: Christian Post.

The comparison is made because while he was king, David secretly took for himself the wife of a man named Uriah. Uriah was known as a good man and a dedicated member of David’s army. Yet when Uriah’s wife became pregnant with David’s child, David arranged for Uriah to be killed by leaving him alone on the battlefield against their enemy. Still, David is called in the Christian Scriptures a “man after [God’s] own heart” (1 Samuel 13.14), and he is acknowledged as the author of much of the biblical book of Psalms.

Graham, Falwell, and others say that just like God used David, God can use Trump. David, they reason, was rough around the edges and had a checkered past, yet he did great things for Israel. But this comparison to David is fundamentally flawed.

The main reason the analogy fails? The Bible shows that David didn’t accomplish much good after his horrific choices. When confronted over his sins, he was deeply sorry and threw himself at the mercy of God, asking for forgiveness (2 Samuel 12.7-23; Psalm 51). But though God forgave him, He did not exempt him from the consequences of his actions. David’s family fell apart and the kingdom suffered greatly, even plunging into civil war when Prince Absalom sought to usurp the throne.

So when Christian preachers say that God can use Trump because he’s like David, they lack a biblical basis. Further, it should be noted that David is only called a “man after [God’s] own heart” before his reign. He is not called that at the end of his reign; in fact, near the end of his life, he is prohibited from building the Temple because God considers him a “man of war” and a man of bloodshed (1 Chronicles 28.3).

A More Accurate Comparison: King Saul

The much more accurate analogy to Trump in the Bible is King Saul. He was the first king over Israel and the predecessor of David.

Mercurial.

Saul, on the surface, looked like royal material; he was a tall, strapping young man. Yet on the inside, as seen in the book of 1 Samuel, he was:

• Paranoid and highly afraid that others (like David) were out to get him
• Jealous of the attention given to others (like David) instead of to him
• Constantly blaming other people (like David or the general population) for his own shortcomings
• Highly impulsive, often speaking or acting without thinking a matter through (as with his vow that threatened the life of his son Jonathan or his hasty burnt sacrifice)
• Unwilling to accept intelligent counsel (like the prophet Samuel’s)
• Willing to compromise his people’s values to be chummy with the leader (Agag) of an enemy country
• Willing to use his power as leader of his country to line his own pockets (like keeping the best livestock from Agag’s herds)
• Seeking help from an extremely dubious fringe person (the woman at Endor who purported to speak with the dead) to bolster his position
• Giving the outward appearance of piety while still acting in ways that showed he followed his own rules
• Vengeful toward those he believed had wronged him

Many of these characteristics are abundantly apparent in Trump as well; the campaign was full of examples. It is actually remarkable how much Saul and Trump have in common.

But please don’t get me wrong. I sincerely hope Trump loses these Nixonian traits, which he appears to possess in even greater degree than the disgraced former president. Yet realistically, given human nature, we can expect him to continue to be who he has shown himself to be.

How to Live Under the Reign of a King Saul

The simple blueprint that I see in 1 Samuel for life under Trump has three parts.

Saul Attacking David. Guercino, 1646.

First, I need to hold to my values and not descend to the meanness that characterizes Trump and some of his supporters, especially those who troll his critics online. David sets an example through his years-long, life-and-death struggle with King Saul.

In his younger days, when he was a musician in the palace, David survived near misses from Saul’s spear on two separate occasions. Later, when Saul was chasing David around the kingdom, seeking to kill him and killing people who helped him, David had two point-blank chances to kill Saul. Yet David refused to strike him because Saul was “the Lord’s anointed” – in other words, God’s chosen king for that time.

Or as someone wise said during the campaign, “When they go low, we go high.”

Second, I need to be prepared to intervene to protect those threatened by injustice. In 1 Samuel 14.24-46, Saul is dead set on killing his son Prince Jonathan because he had violated Saul’s ban on anyone, military or civilian, eating before day’s end. All Jonathan had actually done was to taste a bit of honey, without having any awareness of his father’s order to refrain from food. But Saul’s soldiers protested vehemently and vowed they would use force against the king and anyone else who would harm Jonathan. Saul stood down after that.

There are several groups that Trump threatened with one thing or another during the campaign – immigrants, Muslims, refugees, women that he victimized sexually who dared to tell their story publicly, and so on. There are even more groups who have been victimized by a segment of his supporters who commit hate crimes in his name. I must stand with all of these oppressed groups.

Not showing on your favorite cable TV channel.

Third, I need to tell the truth. Throughout the account of Saul’s life and reign, the people that are portrayed positively or sympathetically by the historian author are people who tell Saul the truth. They do this even though they know Saul is highly mercurial in temperament, and that to cross him is to risk their lives. The prophet Samuel, Prince Jonathan, and Saul’s soldiers all boldly stand up to him and refuse to soft-pedal their disagreement and disappointment.

It’s always important to show the proper respect to everyone. Yet it’s also essential to boldly stand up to governing officials and to speak the truth plainly when they are hurting people. This must be done without descending into the rudeness and crudeness that Trump often uses in his own speech.

Again, I do hope and pray that Trump changes dramatically, especially now that he is vested with more power, humanly speaking, than any other person on the planet. But if he does not, and he seeks to do the oppressive things he proposed during the campaign, I must still stand against him.

As I do, I’ll be thinking of my simple little blueprint.

My piece for Sojourners is live!

Hi friends! I’m grateful that the terrific Christian ministry Sojourners has given me a chance to submit a column for their website. In a way, it’s a sequel to a post I wrote on this blog a couple of months ago about evangelical rape culture. My post for Sojourners is a post-election look at what many evangelical women are feeling about the Church these days. It’s called “Evangelical Divison Problems,” and you can read it here: https://sojo.net/articles/evangelical-division-problems