The Fringe Are No Benefit

Social Media is one of my passions.

This no longer makes me feel embarrassed and ashamed. Through social media I see my grandsons, often all of them, in two different states, all on the same day.

I get to share in the excitement of a sports achievement, see the first day of school, swap family recipes, and give advice (when it’s asked for).

I see new thoughts, rehash old concerns, revisit memories, and rejoice in new babies. I find out the weather, learn where the traffic is knotty, read poems/articles/stories from my Vocal and Medium network, and (yes) laugh at funny kitten videos.

People reach me through groups and ask for old forms and materials from jobs gone by… which I more often than not have available to share.

I have several Facebook pages-one for Milestones Ministry (I am a non-denominational minister and wedding officiant),and the other for Things I Know About Bookselling (aka TIKAB, with over 3,000 members), and several Facebook groups that I created and administer.

I have companionship, kinship, and compatibility. I also have people disagree with me.

Some days more than others. And that’s OK; it’s the expected result when you share your opinions with a wide group of people.

What does sadden me, though, is the increase in stereotyping. Disagreements with whole groups of people with no personal interaction or facts. Just lumping people together due to their

• skin tone
• religion
• place of origin
• economic status
• education
• gender
• sexuality
• politics
• and whatever differentiator exists to call someone an ‘Other’.

Someone different. Someone Not Like Us. I can easily do it, too. Look at the ravings of the arguers and proponents of speculative views and call people Alike. Call them extremists. Call them Them as opposed to US , and not see them as individuals.

I have been registered as a Republican and as an Independent. In my life I’ve voted for Republicans and Democrats. I’ve marched in rallies. I’ve held clipboards and asked people to register to vote.

I’ve turned off the TV when Bill Clinton attempted to teach my daughters that oral sex wasn’t sex. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom, a member of an evangelical Christian church, been a summer church missionary, and a member of a Diversity Task Force.

And still. And yet.

I cringe when I see posts of ‘what Christians are like’. I wince when I read ‘what women feel about men’. Because I am not Black I’m not supposed to understand that Black Lives Matter.

Because I’m from blue-collar roots, (with railroaders and steelworkers in my background), and because I respect those that serve in the military; I am supposed to be pro-Republican. Because I believe there should be a process for immigration, I am supposed to approve of the camps filled with children separated from their parents.

Because I am born again I must be anti-gay, anti-trans, anti-liberal. Because I’m over 50 I must be anti-technology, and anti-Millennial. People that barely know me are experts on who I must be.

I am painted by a very broad brush, one that catches the crumbs of every fanatical group, every special-interest, every bit of the ‘everyone knows’ that exists in the world.

The media grabs the most out-there, most extreme, the most dramatic fringe elements of every special-interest group, every denomination, every geographic differentiator; then it is amplified, cartooned, distilled into the single fringe element that 'everyone knows'.

There is 'Florida Man', but I've not seen 'Utah Man' outside of the University of Utah fight song. Florida Man jokes and memes are a parody, focused on the fringe element. It ignores all of the richness we bring to the world, to our community, and discounts our wonderful workmanship to focus on that 'fringe element'.

That viewpoint polarizes, distances, fractures, and tears down the common truth that we are all unique, precious, and were once a child held in a parent's arms; loved and cherished for our unique potential.

I am tired of it.

I am tired of being the apologist of my beliefs. I am tired from being crimped at the edges by people determined to fit me into a mold. I am tired of being ‘understood’ and ‘included’ and ‘recognized’ without my agreement.

I am me.

My intent and faith and thoughts and desires can be learned by just asking me.

A person could be drawn in to a luxurious shawl or blanket by the visual appeal of the stitching, the colors, and the opulent fringe. But that's not why you buy it: you buy it for the warmth that it gives. You choose it based on the whole of the thing, not for the fringe.

Judge me, if you must, by my own warmth. Judge me by my own actions. Judge me by the whole package.

Judge me by the whole of me, not by the fringe.

~

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