A Liberal in a Town Full of Trump Supporters

Small Town Local #1: I think President Trump has the right idea! I want to shake hands with that man!

Me:




Small Town Local #2: If people are poor, it's because they don't work hard enough.

Me:



Almost two years ago, I went from living in a big city where drag queens read stories to children in public libraries to a small town where many people think that homosexuality is a "choice". It was definitely a culture shock.

Although I've become fond of several of my students, sometimes listening to some of them is like listening to a panel of Fox News correspondents. Every time I see one of them wearing a Make America Great Again hat or one of the other locals drive around town in a pickup truck with a giant Confederate flag flying from the back, I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

Yes, it's America, and they're entitled to their beliefs. And I have to be very careful not to become one of those professors who use their classrooms as political soapboxes. But it isn't easy to live in a town where a lot of people think that Hillary Clinton should be "locked up," shake their heads over "fake news", and yell racial slurs at minorities from their truck windows.

I'll be the first to admit that not all of the people in Small Town are like this, and fortunately, I haven't heard any of my students say racial slurs (although one of my students, who is from another country, confided in me that other students from other classes ridiculed him and laughed at him because of his accent when he tried to talk to them).

I'll also admit that there are advantages to small town life, such as the fact that I'm far less likely to get body slammed for my wallet or for no reason at all (both of which did happen to me in the city I lived in previously), and people are generally friendlier here.

I'll also admit that I'm not completely liberal, partly due to certain liberals whose behavior is often as intolerant as some of the Trump supporters I've met, like the ones who try to prevent controversial people from speaking at colleges and have even gone so far as verbally (or physically) attacking them when they try to give their speeches.

Many colleges are in small towns like this one, so it is quite likely that I'll spend the rest of my career in a small town. I'd be okay with that, as long as I had more job security, a salary that enabled me to quit my second job and have at least one day off a week, and more classes that I want to teach, rather than the "required" classes that most of the tenured professors do not want to teach. That's not the case at the school where I'm teaching now, which is why I want to leave.

I've applied to almost forty schools, and I'm hopeful that I'll find something, although I've already received a few rejections. There's a strong possibility that I'll still be here next year, although it's not a guarantee.

I'm worried, though. If I don't find something better for next year, then who's to say the situation will be any different next year? I'll still have mostly the same qualifications. I do need to do more academic research, which is hard when I'm working about thirty-five to forty hours a week at my teaching job (due to my full teaching load, large number of students, department/committee meetings, etc.) and twenty hours (and sometimes more) a week at my website job.

It's ironic (and unfair) that in order to advance in my career I have to do more research, but because I'm not in an advanced status yet I don't have time to do that research. Tenured professors, on the other hand, have fewer classes to teach and assistants to grade papers and hold office hours for them. But I digress. Such is academia. I probably should have gone into something less stressful, like taste testing for the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong Un.

What about you? How do you react when people start praising a politician that makes you want to Google "one-way ticket to Canada" and "cheap flasks"?

The Girlfriend

When I found out that Small Town Guy had a new girlfriend, my reaction was basically like this:
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When I found out they were taking a trip out of town together and saw their pictures from the trip on Facebook, my reaction was basically like this:



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I thought I had let go of any feelings I had for him months ago, and truth be told, I'd already accepted a long time ago that he and I would never be more than friends. After that incident where he made me feel like my feelings didn't matter, I found myself cringing anytime someone mentioned his name.

I distanced myself from the friends I'd made here in Small Town and tried to avoid him, which isn't easy to do in a small town like this one. I swear, I keep bumping into my students everywhere: at the gym, at the local coffee shop, and once at the pharmacy, where I was buying anti-itch cream for a rash on my legs (I told the student that I ran into that "Uh, this is for a friend! Not for me, haha!").

When I finally decided to start socializing with them again, Small Town Guy was there, along with the Girlfriend (who isn't New Girl by the way, but someone who occasionally socializes with the group). He mostly ignored me, and I couldn't help but flinch when I saw him put his arm around her and listened to her say things like, "We went to that movie, and it was so romantic!"

I left after twenty minutes. Even before I found out he was dating someone, I no longer wanted to be with him (especially not after he excluded me and hurt my feelings). But still, it stung to see him with someone else.

On the one hand, it's probably for the best. I will (hopefully) be leaving Small Town pretty soon for a different job at another school in another state (if I can find one, which I won't find out about until the end of the school year). It wouldn't make sense to start something with someone when I have to leave again. I hope I can leave and find a job with a higher salary, so that I won't have to work seven days a week at two jobs anymore. (That's mainly why I've been blogging sporadically this school year.)

But on the other hand, living here finally made me realize that there has to be more to life than work. I spent all those years hiding behind my work, developing crushes on guys who just weren't that into me, which made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. Maybe I liked them because it was safer to like guys like that, because then nothing would happen and I could refocus on my work. Or maybe I'm just man repellent.

If and when I move to a new place, I've decided to try online dating again once I get settled. I've been thinking that I'll join Tinder, since I'm on Facebook now (you have to have a FB account in order to join). I've heard that a lot of people join it for hookups, but other people have ended up with more serious relationships because of it. Maybe it'll work out for me this time. Or maybe I'll end up with another freezer full of ice cream.

Unfriended

Recently, I went through a conflict with Small Town Guy that caused me to question our friendship.

A few weeks ago, many of my friends in Small Town went to a play in a larger city nearby. They spent several days talking excitedly about the excursion and about how they were going to get all dressed up for it. Apparently, Small Town Guy organized the whole thing. But I was not invited.

I know that even though we're friends, he's not obligated to invite me to everything. But it did sting to hear everyone talking about it and to know that practically everyone else in our social circle (including New Girl, who has a new boyfriend, and it's not Small Town Guy, BTW) was invited.

It also didn't help that I saw the posts on Facebook after the play about how much fun they'd had. It made me wish that I could turn into Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty, where I'd swoop in on the gathering and then put a curse on them. (Not that I was bitter or anything.)

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I texted Small Town Guy the next day to ask why I hadn't been invited and to say that I felt left out. He never texted back.

I was willing to bet that not inviting me to the play hadn't been a deliberate act on his part and was probably just a mistake or an oversight. But what made me want to buy a voodoo doll and stick a picture of his face on it was the fact that he never responded to my text about how left out I felt. That was deliberate.

A few days later, he did briefly try to talk to me, but I was on my way to work and couldn't talk. I didn't talk to him for the rest of the week, until we saw each other at a birthday party for a mutual friend that was being held at a local restaurant. A large group of us were sitting at several tables pushed up next to each other. Small Town Guy sat next to me, but he kept his back turned away from me almost the whole time, so that he could talk to New Girl, who was sitting on the other side of him. It felt like he was ignoring me or that he didn't care that he hurt my feelings, which hurt even more.

A few months ago, I had a minor disagreement with Guy Friend. I texted him about it, and he responded right away. We had a good conversation about it, and he apologized for hurting my feelings. That made me feel better, and it's been fine between him and me ever since.

I truly value the friendships I've made in Small Town. They're important to me, especially after all those years in Chicago where I was a social outcast in grad school and most of my college friends had moved on to other jobs in other states or to family life in the suburbs. Small Town Guy was the first friend I had here, but his behavior towards me made me wonder if he valued my friendship. If he had sent me a text like the one I sent him, I would have definitely talked to him about it. And I guarantee that if New Girl had texted him (for any reason), he would have responded right away.

I finally confronted him a few days after the party. He didn't really explain why I hadn't been invited, though he did apologize for never responding to my text. He said that he'd been waiting to talk to me in person. But I said that all he had to do was text back, "I think we should talk about this in person. Let's talk later," which would have made all the difference, rather than just not respond at all and make me think that he didn't care about hurting my feelings. It was the first time I was completely honest with him, and things have been a little awkward between us ever since.

But if I hadn't said something, I would have kept stewing over it, until I exploded at the wrong time. I tried talking to a couple other friends about it, but they defended Small Town Guy and didn't fully understand why I felt hurt. One of them pointed out that I shouldn't have gotten upset with just him, because none of the others thought to invite me to the play either. But that just made me feel even worse. One other friend, however, did understand how I felt, which made me feel a little better.

That's why I've been focusing more on my work and distancing myself from all of them lately, declining their social invitations (though I haven't said why). I still want to be friends with them, of course, but I think I just need my space for a while.

What about you? Have you ever had a disagreement with one of your friends?

Reading to Strangers

Apparently there's a big poetry scene in some of the bigger towns and cities nearby (but not in Small Town, unfortunately), and there are a lot of poetry readings and open mic nights hosted by local coffee shops and bars.

I heard about a monthly open mic night at a bar in a big city that's a considerable driving distance away from Small Town, but at this event people can read whatever they want, not just poetry. I've never been really good at poems. If I wrote a poem, it'd be like this: Roses are red, violets are blue. Donald Trump is destroying this country, and I blame you. (And then I'd make copies and tape them to the doors of all the Trump supporters.)

I decided to drive out to the big city and read a flash fiction piece I wrote a few years ago that I've always been proud of but has never been published. I've never read my work in front of anyone, except in writing classes.

Part of me wished that I'd brought at least a few of my friends from Small Town with me, but somehow it felt like it might be easier to read in front of strangers rather than people I knew. My writing is very personal to me, and it's something I keep secret from most people, whereas reading in front of strangers is different because then I never have to see them again if they don't like it. On the other hand, I was afraid of negative reactions from the audience that night, and I was tempted to turn back and drive home. But I kept driving forward.

The bar turned out to be a brewery, so that it looked like one big warehouse with just a small section cordoned off for the bar. When I came in, there were several rough-looking older guys playing pool and drinking beer but no women there, and they all looked at me curiously as I came in. I wasn't sure if I had the right place at first, though I had arrived early for the reading. Being there in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of men I'd never met made me wish I could say, "If any of you come near me, I will not hesitate to kick you in the crotch." (You may call me paranoid, but I did just spend the past several years living in a big city where people tried to mug or attack me on a regular basis.)

But none of the guys tried to hurt me, and soon, more people (including women) arrived. Most of the people attending the reading looked like they were hipsters, the kind of people who would groan and kick me (though their skinny jeans might cause them to trip and fall down instead of kick me) if they knew how many Britney Spears playlists are on my iPod (and yes, I have more than one, and I'm "sorry not sorry" because she's FABULOUS).

I signed up to read my story, though a part of me still wanted to run out of there before it was too late. When the host called out my name, my hands shook as I looked down at the pages I'd written.

As I read my story, people smiled and laughed at several points, which was exactly the response I was hoping for. When I finished reading and sat back down, the host of the reading said, "Duuude! You need to freakin' come BACK to the next reading, seriously!" Afterwards, several people, including other writers who also read their work, approached me to tell me that they were impressed by my writing and that I did a good job.

I felt relieved that I had finally done what I'd been wanting to do for a long time. I felt pleased that other people liked my story, and I felt happy to be around other writers who were reading their work. I felt excited to go home and write another story. And another one, and another one...

What about you? Do you feel more comfortable at the idea of sharing your work with strangers or with people you know?

We'll Be Watching You

Recently a conservative organization started a website called "Professor Watch List." Their website lists all the college professors that they claim are "radical" and whom they accuse of discriminating against conservative students. Notably, none of the professors they listed are "conservative."

Since I teach college students, I couldn't help checking to see if I was on the list. I wasn't, but I did recognize the name of a professor at another school where I used to teach. This professor is a feminist scholar, but the website included just one quote from an article that she wrote and made it seem as if she hated men and lied to her students about them. (She doesn't hate men, and she doesn't lie to her students either.)

I looked at the other professors that were listed on the website, and it was the same thing. That is, the website very briefly summarized the professors' research or included just one or two quotes from their work and distorted them just enough to make them seem "dangerous". It made my blood boil.

I wondered what they would write about me if I was listed on that site. Maybe it would be something like, "She's a neurotic workaholic who is always shrieking, 'I don't CARE how many likes you got on Instagram! Just put your phone DOWN!'" while she's teaching. Or maybe it would be, "She's un-American because she criticized Trump. She doesn't seem to realize that he's going to save the country." (By "save," do they mean "destroy"?) Maybe they'd claim that I should be fired for telling students that homosexuality is not a "choice" and that gay people are entitled to the same rights that everyone else is.

I also read an article about how the faculty at another college received calls from someone claiming to be a student at their school who was interested in enrolling in their class. They wanted to know which books were going to be on their curriculum. This wasn't an unusual question; I've received e-mails from students before each term who wanted me to send them my syllabus or a list of my required reading. But this person refused to identify themselves, and when the teachers probed further, the caller hung up. They later suspected that the person was trying to figure out if the teachers were "liberals" trying to "infect" impressionable students' minds with their "radical" ideas.

At other schools, students are demanding "trigger warnings" before studying anything that they're uncomfortable with and "safe spaces" to protect themselves from people who are racist, sexist, or disagree with anything that they say. At Oberlin College, students demanded that professors give them nothing less than C's (and definitely no F's) so that they could deal with their grief and anger over the police shootings of African Americans (Oberlin said no.).

On the one hand, I can understand the students' demands and where they're coming from. But I refuse to include trigger warnings in my syllabus, and I think that "safe spaces" will not help students learn how to deal with the real world, where there are no safe spaces. I think that the Professor Watch List will motivate many students to enroll in those professors' classes, because it will make them even more curious about them. I think that both conservatives and liberals are mistaken in their beliefs that only their own perspectives are correct, and everything said or done by the opposing side is completely wrong (although I know that not all conservatives and liberals are like this).

I also think it's wrong that professors and teachers have been fired for daring to disagree with students or disciplining them for their bad behavior. One high school teacher, Theo Olson, wrote a blog about gang activity at his school, where students assaulted teachers and each other. He was accused by "activists" of being racist and lost his job, but the problems that he described were not resolved.

I think it's important to teach students to develop multi-dimensional perspectives and to listen to people whose ideas do not match theirs, though they don't have to agree with them. I would encourage students to attend lectures and presentations given by people from opposing political parties, not so they can harass, attack, or prevent them from speaking (which has happened to many controversial speakers), but so they can learn how to form their own ideas in response to others'.

When I was a young, inexperienced teacher, I was easily intimidated. But years later, I refuse to back down to people who try to silence me, even if it means my name will one day end up on the Professor Watch List.

What about you? What do you think about things like this watch list? How would you react if you were a teacher and your name was on it?

Hipsters, Haikus, and Cowboy Boots

I was browsing through Facebook one day, looking for new pages to follow, when I found out about poetry readings. There aren't any readings in Small Town, where people usually hang out at bars, go to football games, or drive around in pickup trucks with Trump stickers and Confederate flag license plates.

I decided to check out one of the readings in a town that was a long drive away, and of course I got caught in a long traffic jam on the way there. It made me think of that R.E.M. video, "Everybody Hurts," where everyone is sitting in their cars in the middle of a traffic jam and thinking to themselves.




I sat in my car during that traffic jam and thought, "I'm only doing this for the poetry."

I was a half hour late to the poetry reading, but I went anyway. One woman sang a couple songs that made me think of Phoebe Buffay's songs on Friends, because the lyrics were weird, but her voice was much nicer than Phoebe's. I spoke to a few of the poets after the reading, and they were really nice; they told me about other readings in the area, which I decided to go to.

Like the first reading, the second reading was full of hipsters dressed in dark clothes. (I did see at least one poet dressed in a cowboy hat and boots, because this is the South, after all.) One woman read what she called a "bisexual haiku." Several people literally snapped their fingers instead of clapping at the end of each poem.

I was still recovering from the flu (I basically coughed through my entire winter break, and I'm still coughing, which is why I haven't been blogging much), and I resisted the urge to cough and laugh at the same time. It reminded me of the time I went to a reading in Chicago, where I didn't know until after I got there that the theme of that night's stories was "Sluts".

During both readings, I thought to myself, "This is so weird. And yet...I'm intrigued." Even though I didn't understand some of the poems, I enjoyed listening to people read them. It was encouraging to know that in spite of the fact that the walking definition of "narcissism" is about to be elected President and the new neighbors who moved in next door hung up a big Trump sign in their window (I really want to put Clinton stickers on their pickup trucks), there are a lot of people out there, writing.

The readings inspired me to go home and work on my own writing, which I've sadly been neglecting. It motivated me to send out a short story I wrote to a writing contest hosted by Writer's Digest, which I also found out about through Facebook.

It also made me want to read my own writing in front of other people, which I haven't done before, except in writing classes. The other poets told me about open mic nights where you can sign up to read whatever you want, even if it's not poetry. Maybe I could read something I wrote, even though the thought of seeing people react to my writing in person freaks me out just a little bit (OK, a lot).

What about you? Have you ever read any of your work at an open mic night or a poetry reading?