Dissonance

Against better judgment, I am the type to read comments. For whatever reason, I pull amusement from discovering what these random strangers, maybe with falsified identities, have to say on whatever I’ve just consumed. Given that they’re often on YouTube for random pop culture nonsense, it’s not a toxic breeding ground as most creators have formed some alliance of support. There’s something often comforting about hearing someone provide their personal insight into the subject at hand. It makes me believe that the world will be okay. There are those without enough sense to believe in a better world.

And yet, I cannot provide the same credence to places like Facebook. Part of me thinks I do it to harm myself. Somewhere in their confounding algorithm, I’ll see posts from around Long Beach. I don’t subscribe to those pages, and yet they come around so often that I’m familiar with a lot of updates. 

Last week, they were discussing the city’s annual Pride Parade. Of everything the city’s known for, a supportive queer community is high on that list. We’re the place that has rainbow sidewalks and lifeguard stations. Our former mayor, Robert Garcia, became the first openly gay Latino elected to congress. We even were cool enough to host a screening of The People’s Joker (2024)… twice. There’s a lot to admire about my city’s history with the LGBTQIA+. I’m sure it if wasn’t for skyrocketing prices, there’d be even more to celebrate.

But to return to the point at hand. Like a lot of noteworthy Southern California cities, the Pride Parade has been a celebrated event for decades. While I haven’t attended, there’s been something heartwarming of noticing the community come together to celebrate. 

And yet… I did what I always did. I saw this article with a picture of a drag queen on a float from years gone by, and I immediately turn to the comments. I’m already growing apprehensive as I predict every last word that’ll be there. Sure, for every vote of confidence I get, there’s one lingering underneath. They say some variation of, “If that’s pride, then I’ll take humility.” Others, some who may be enthusiastic about the event, discuss the worry for an outbreak of violence. 

Reading the comment, I realize that it’s not an anomalous conspiracy. We aren’t that removed from The Club Q Shooting. We’re coming up on a year from when a city in Orange County had a riot because a schoolboard simply acknowledged June as Pride Month. We’re coming up on a year from when somebody drove to an establishment in Southern California to murder a woman at her place of business because she identified as an ally. We’re celebrating the anniversary of Dylan Mulvaney getting death threats from Kid Rock for drinking beer. Similarly, Orange County has voted not to fly pride flags in front of government buildings and others are attempting to remove Harvey Milk’s name from a textbook footnote on “activism.” Meanwhile, Target has rolled back Pride Merch due to violent backlash with other states receiving bomb threats. Right-wing rappers have gone viral for fear-mongering anthems about “Target targeting your kids.” Maybe I just didn’t notice, but even The NBA quietly disposed of Pride Night last season. 

I return to reading the comments and realize a sense of hope deflating. We’re not even halfway through 2024, and I have to wonder what’s worth anticipating. For those reading the previous paragraph and thinking that I forgot this and this, I just want to say it proves my point. It feels like allyship is on the decline and nobody really cares what happens to LGBTQIA+ individuals. I know it’s not true. The comments around this comment convince me that there’s good in the world, and yet I’m caught up in the idea that all we’re allowed to experience is shame. Same sex couples can’t exist in public but a baby can wear a “lady killer” shirt because it’s funny? 

Again, I think that I’m struggling with cognitive dissonance. California is not “that bad.” We have never been the worst state in the union for freedoms. Still, the ballyhooed liberal mecca has been crumbling under pressure from its more conservative citizens feeling entitled to censor. I know it’s worse elsewhere, but there’s still that baseline bad. 

Looking at the upcoming election, there could be risk of electing someone president whose response to our record-setting fire season was to essentially flip us off. We didn’t support him enough, so why should he do his federal duty? Unsubtly, he was saying to let the world burn. Given that he’s argued making his next administration a dictatorship, there’s a lot that makes me ill with thinking about him as a person. He’s weaponized toxic thinking as governors have chosen to bus migrants to states like California for no other reason than to make it somebody else’s problem. Given the ongoing homeless crisis in the state, families are forced to live on the street and wonder when things will get better. 

I could imagine they saw America like how it was advertised to me on Schoolhouse Rock. We are The Great American Melting Pot. Everyone brings something to the table. We’re The Land of Compromise who now passes legislation in the dead of night in an exclusive vote. I know on some level it’s all been farcical the whole time, but you want to believe that the inclusivity propaganda actually built empathetic generations who see The Land of Opportunity as being for everyone. I am not an expert on immigrant policy, but bussing them into another hurdle must demystify the global understanding of The American Dream in some way, right? How can a land promising so much prosperity be so hostile?

Then again, I think the hope for a pride-filled June is only the start of how exhausted I am by the prospect of reaching December 2024. By then, whatever’s going to happen will have happened. For now, there is this painful lingering that feels inevitable and the longer that you stop to think about it, the more your stomach turns. It feels like a slow decline into a fiery pit and the flames are singing your legs. You look back, thinking that there are ways to fix everything. Find a bucket of water. Yell out for help. Ask why there’s even a fiery pit to begin with. There’s so much you want to believe can be fixed in this situation, but there’s nothing you can do because you’re on the decline, slowly moving. 

Then again, that decline probably started years ago. In previous years, the presidential election was an event I loved following. Hearing every candidate talk made it feel like I was a bookie in Vegas placing bets. It could be that I was naïve, not yet familiar with the cyclical nature of humanity. Even then, you looked at these candidates slowly dwindling down and you saw potential. This one had the best chance of being an adequate addition to The Oval Office. By Election Day, I was so overwhelmed with curiosity as to who would win that I’d watch the return coverage on pins and needles. Even if nothing changed for 20 minutes, I’d watch thinking… maybe? You didn’t want to miss the surprise.

And yet, 2020 was the first election where I was actively disinterested. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t one of those a bit too jaded about how 2016 would play out. I had the optimism that humanity could notice competence. Instead, I watched things slowly shift into what they are now. By 2020, the reality became that I couldn’t help but see it all as artificial. No matter who tried to take down the giant, I’d still have to watch with repulsion as he controlled the news. His offhand remarks were no longer cute. People making fun of Joe Biden for being old and awkward never had that innocent humor to it. Everything felt vindictive. 

The only difference between 2020 and 2024 is the height of the decline. Four years ago, it wasn’t clear if Biden would’ve been the Democratic candidate. Many assumed, but there was a healthy variety of alternatives that at least provided some amusement. In 2024, it felt like we were at the New Year’s Eve party asking each other, “You ever get déjà vu?” A few decoys popped up, but we all knew what was going to happen. On some level, most of us felt cheated that Biden walked back his mentorship program to just run again. However, what do you do when your opponent is that influential? You can’t just put out the good-willed types. You needed someone who could stand up to some serious mudslinging. We’re beyond platform integrity. Now it’s all votes of confidence. 

Having looked at everything that’s come before in the past eight years, it’s hard to say that I want a lot of it. While Biden has continually told the transgender community, “we got your back,” you come to realize that it’s the only nice thing he can think to say about them at a State of the Union. He’s more keen to crack jokes about chip bags and be praised for performing crowd work on dissenting opinions. 

While it’s easy to see him as doing a lot that’s better than alternatives, you can’t help but wonder… why are we stuck with these two options? Why can’t we have some new schools of opinion? So again I slide down the fiery pit, watching him donate money to overseas genocides while being unable to invest in the safety and welfare of his own citizens. Given that the trans community is also suffering a genocide stateside, it does feel like we’re stuck with an “I asked for change and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” meme. I’m sure he’s done some things right, but as one watches Palestinian citizens die at the hands of militias, how does one believe in the integrity of a leader who sees that and becomes like, “We’re fine” while signing the check?

And yet, I can’t be too sure the opponent is going to have a better sway on this subject. I turn my attention to a recent wave of university protests and am reminded of something I heard almost a decade ago. At the time I was thinking of it more in line with the outdated Vietnam War protests, but it’s become clearer in light of Black Lives Matter protests that should’ve started a more significant debate. During a rally, he suggested that it was okay to “knock the crap” out of protestors and that he’d pay for their legal fees. Given that this man would go on to stage one of the biggest terrorist attacks in recent years, it’s not that unbecoming.

But still, I was watching the anti-genocide protest at U.C. Irvine on Wednesday and felt that dread setting in. Unlike the UCLA attacks, I watched a lot of Irvine’s event live and felt that familiar dread. I saw those protestors peacefully waving the Palestinian flag. Their intentions were clear. They didn’t want schools funding a genocide. In a more just society, The Land of Compromise, this would’ve gotten somebody’s attention and they would listen. They would ask “Why do you feel this way?” and actually try to negotiate an understanding. At no point during my entire time watching the protest did I believe that the protestors were out for violence. I understand there were agitators at other events that made things difficult, but these Irvine protestors weren’t acting up. I’ve read comments from Irvine’s staff suggesting they were cool with freedom of expression, though I want to believe they changed the wording to unlawful gathering simply because they were growing uncomfortable with the massive turnout.

Again, I wonder… does anyone listen? At one point a teacher who studied global politics was interviewed as she was escorted to a police car talking about how the students should be allowed to protest. The messages were consistent with what I’ve heard from other campuses. As her voice cracked, you found some respite in the fact that she was clairvoyant enough to get the message across as succinctly as she did. It hit me hard to realize that despite giving her that temporary platform, this woman who was peacefully protesting was heading to jail. She wasn’t the only teacher (or arrest), but I think it’s the one that made it clear that nobody was listening.

Meanwhile, they cut to an aerial shot and I see these massive crowds of police officers. As they slowly move in, I see them jerking with batons in hands. My mind goes back to the comment “knock the crap out of them” and get worried. UCLA wasn’t that distant of a memory. 

Part of me knows what’s about to happen, and yet I keep hoping that this is the one thing that goes differently. This can’t be part of the decline. This can’t be like silencing Black Lives Matter or The LGBTQIA+ Community. This can’t be another genocide in the wake of the first repeat candidate election in generations. I’m hoping that somebody stops and wonders why these people have gathered to begin with.

On a side note, I am grateful to acknowledge that this is one case where Cal State Long Beach ended a bit more optimistically. Two weeks ago, they performed their own protest that was said to have garnered as many as 1,000 participants. Later in the day, they had 200 who walked over in front of The Walter Pyramid and staged something as people were walking into the NCAA men’s volleyball tournament. Some differences that I’ve observed is that there were no encampments and protestors claimed that they would disperse at 7 PM. I can’t speak for Irvine, UCLA, or Cal Poly Humboldt as to everything they did differently, but I think it shows that there’s ways to do this without dwindling into chaos. 

I think that more than anything this has all caused me to wonder what the larger point is. What is there to look forward to in a life where everything seems to be going backwards? Time and again, I’m witnessing the fact that the only way to solve matters is to use violence. Reason is failing. Nobody’s listening to the other side, so we’re just going to continue sliding. There will indubitably be another protest and I will read about many more arrests. My grandfather will complain that those students should lose graduation and that they’ll earn any injury that comes their way. It’s horrifying to think how he could see someone speaking up and think it’s a crime against Freedom of Speech. Unlike the comedian who feels oppressed because he can’t make fun of marginal classes, asking for leaders to listen to their opinion is an example of repressing disagreements. 

I recognize that this is in line with the theory that change isn’t convenient. Some hands will get dirty while standing up for their rights. However, you want to believe that it’s not going to come at such exhausting lengths. Watching the protest, I was also reminded of the need to defund police and how it was controversial. When there’s walls that thick of officers with riot gear looking at protestors and threatening unseen violence, one has to wonder what they think is going to happen. Nobody’s going to listen because the police have the power. They can censor you. The best that you can hope is that the journalist isn’t biased and won’t sell the global politics teacher as a raving lunatic.

And so I read the comments, hoping to see something different. I look at that Pride Parade post and try to not feel like the “trans woman = man” comment hurts. There’s this subtle indoctrination of being exposed so much to a messaging that it wears you down and you just submit. I can’t say that I’ll give over to bigotry, but I have to believe somewhere in all of this protesting against the larger narrative, I’ll just lose enthusiasm again. If I vote one way, I support the guy who funds genocide. If I vote the other way, I support the guy who got away with a terrorist attack. Why do I believe a third option will arise? Why do I look at Ralph Nader in 2000 and feel like that will only cause more problems than good? I don't, I'm supposed to be enjoying videos right now of people making fun of Target's Pride Merch in jest. 

I don’t know. I’m trying to see the good in the world. There’s a lot out there, and a lot of it is staring me right in the face. It’s all around me and I’m grateful to live in a city that’s so welcoming. And yet I’m left shrugging at the question of whether my local Targets will have Pride Merch out or not. It’s where I bought a pride flag that hangs proudly in my room, providing some comfort of the things that are still right in the world. Last year I couldn’t even buy a small patch. Violence has won this round. I’m hoping the next one doesn’t hurt as much.