I learned the concept of war. Or I should say I grasped the concept from a young age. Born on an air force base. Generations of men and women in my family have served in all branches of America’s armed services. I would spend hours as a child with my first meaningful friend—Matt—playing war. Our neighborhood backed up to a nature preserve with a pond—wildflowers grew with tall grass. Our imagination—aided by the History Channel, his parents HBO subscription so we could catch reruns of Band of Brothers, and VHS’ of Memphis Belle and Taps—painted us as just a couple of G.I.s. We would hastily draw up some sort of scenario based on what war story had just been recounted most recently. Some days, we would jump off the top floor of his backyard jungle gym, like we were the 82nd Airborne parachuting in behind enemy lines, moving quickly to help ease the amphibious landing on D-Day.
Other days, in the tall grass of the preserve, we were Marines attempting to capture the only airfield on Guadalcanal. Racing to clear a path for crucial air support for the battleships just offshore. In the winter, if enough snow fell, we were part of the Third Army, marching as part of Patton’s Own to repel the dying thrash of Hitler’s army.
Those dog day afternoons were spent romanticizing the carnage and death of men. We thought the honor of dying for your country was one of the highest to have. That America was the beacon of freedom and we had thwarted the evils of National Socialism, that the Soviets failed, that America stands for freedom. When a country is invaded, you flash the American signal, and all of a sudden the shock and might of American military superiority would have those who seek to quash freedom quaking in their boots. We were too young to understand the nuances. The Nazis got the idea for the concentration camps from America's treatment of Native Americans. Hitler had hope for a tripolar world. Japan in Asia, Germany in Europe, and America in the Western Hemisphere as the dominant country. Lynch pinned by racism and fascism—Aryans would rule. As a child though, it was a simple narrative that has all of sudden flipped and flashing Nazi salutes are welcomed and acceptable as long as denoted as “Roman" salute.
When Al Green stood up, he stood slowly—deliberately. He rose from the pews of Congress and stood as a beacon for a moment. He was upright and tall; the cane he carried was no longer needed for support. He did look tired. Not so much from the lateness of the evening—but his face was tired as in it told the story of numerous unknown, but well-understood challenges he had faced as a Black man in America. Long tired of having to justify his existence to those that deemed him lesser.
As I sat on my couch watching someone finally rise to meet the moment, my heart raced. My hands felt clammy. When Mike Johnson had Al Green removed from the State of the Union, Did your mouth not fill with adrenaline? Did you not have that bittersweet taste in your mouth? The taste of the fight?
The Department of Defense over the last two days has removed and then reinstated the webpage dedicated to Jackie Robinson’s military service. The Defense Department issued these two mealy-mouthed, nonsensical statements.
First:
Second:
Is there anything more bottom-barrel racist? Erasing the Navajo Code Talkers and Ira Hayes, literal heroes during World War II, from the annals of military history is towards the top. There is just something so insidious about the erasure of Jackie Robinson. Maybe it’s as a sports fan—Jackie Robinson is sacrosanct. America’s pastime has a day every year where they all wear Robinson’s 42. There was a multimillion-dollar Hollywood film starring Han Solo and The Black Panther. We have rightly mythologized his story. Even before he tore down the color barrier in the MLB, his story was a civil rights chronicle. As Jeff Passan explains:
What the hell is happening here? I call myself a socialist and probably most closely look at the world in a traditional Marxist sense, leaning heavily into unions, but also believe in something like democratic confederalism. Typing those words now makes me want to beat myself with hammers, not because of the words themselves, but real people don’t talk like that, at least not often. When I talk about my sense of justice, I speak about how I want children to have food and education, people to have economic opportunity to be whatever they want to be. Marxism and socialism are words used to describe some theory of economic principles and moral philosophy, but to the world they’re supposed to be cultural boogeymen. “Jackie Robinson is a cultural Marxist” is Bizarro World bingo for 4chan trolls and segregationists. Every American who knows the story of Jackie Robinson should bristle at this reframing. The Civil Rights era, the end of the color barrier were long settled points of the American experience. “Separate can never be equal.”
I burn in my gut for a way to tear the world asunder. I haven’t done enough. I don’t know why the laziness and selfishness of my being overcome this burning. I spend my days with my wife enjoying the leisures of the capitalist dogma that has dominated my life since before I took a breath.
I think I thought shit would be easy. Naively.
That the world, while not post-racial or beyond the gender binary, was much more about dragging those in the “Other America” to see the light. To see free and equal opportunity for all was not lessening their chance at The American Dream. Ten years ago, American institutions pulled money out of North Carolina for their offensive, regressive bathroom bill.
Now, in order to ensure that any marginalized group do not have access to the Dream, some (white) Americans have said that there is no dream for anyone. Including themselves. The existence of America as an idea is under direct attack from internal fascists, built on the bed of hate, pseudoscience, and white victimhood.
The original sin of the country I call home is racism.
The idea that people could be so blinded by hate is not new.
The blood of man spilled in places like Antietam and Gettysberg
Was not enough to wash away the sins of our birth.
Was the cleansing ritual not completed?
Did the blood we dipped ourselves in leave us with a mortal wound like Thetis?
Was the 4 years with the smell of the carnage too much to bear for one more second?
We lie here, 160 years later, in the dirt
Our heel once again showed to be our weakness.
Eisenhower famously brought cameras into the camps so the devastation could not be forgotten. Having visited the Holocaust museum in D.C.
How does anyone with a basic understanding of history not see it repeating?
Does that burning in the pit of your stomach not make you ill at the sight of this?
Does not seeing these helpless people not fill you with rage?
I have been searching for words for awhile to meet this moment, and this moment has me writing poetry. Save us all.
There will be pain—there will be unnecessary death and destruction. It's unfortunate that we have found ourselves here again. Once more dealing with racism, sexism, and capitalism rearing their ugly heads. Attempting this time not only to impede progress but to actively claw back the gains made by these groups.
The thing I hold onto is that we have dealt with this enemy before—we will deal with him again. They are cowards with glass jaws. They’re reactionaries, paper tigers.1 They’re segregationists and revisionists who seek to try and dismantle a worldview that holds a mirror up to the ugly horrors of America's sins.
I think what’s important to remember is that history repeats itself, rhymes, and requels. Which is a double-edged sword because yes, it is disappointing that we have not learned from the sins of our past—but the flip side is that totalitarian regimes have failed over and over again throughout history.
Many of us feel hopeless or aimless. Knowing that we are on the right side of history, but not knowing what to do. As with all humans throughout history - we continue to do what we can where can. We can control what we can get within the circumference of our arms and no much more. So help your neighbor or coworker, extend kindness to those who need it and be willing to stand up to those who wish to harm. I know I am not alone, I see it from my friends and people on social media every day.
I do think about the people in my class who went on to large public institutions out of state and then moved back to our hometown. Living affably, happy to be in their hometown bubble and being the same people they were at 17 when I couldn’t get them to give a shit about our teachers going on strike then to help our education. We have lived lives sense then and in that time Mike Brown, Trump 1, Eric Garner, Drone strikes, Covid-19 pandemic, George Floyd, losing abortion access, state-funded genocide, none of these things shook them enough to realize the world is so much more than 10 square miles of our hometown and how much we pay in taxes?
I will never forget the guy who came to a law school Halloween party as a Trump supporter cause he thought none of the “soft libs” would challenge him. Boy, was he wrong. After that night, He didn’t play devil advocate anymore after that (at least in our classes together). I don’t think his mind changed that day, but I do think he thought twice about spouting off in front of people he thinks aren’t going to stand up to him.
The arc of the universe is long, but it bends towards justice. We will build the world we want tomorrow on the ashes of their today. We must do everything in our power to turn back this tide. There is pain and suffering coming—but the future is far from written. We have to be willing to meet the fascists wherever they are. To remind them they are not fucking welcome here. That this country, for all its problems, is still for all.
Thanks for reading Tyler’s Scribbles! This post is public so feel free to share it.
