Earlier this past week while at Yearly Meeting, I had the opportunity to speak informally at length with several college-aged Young Adult Friends. Most were at least a decade or
so younger than me, and it was interesting to compare how a younger
generation's perspective was both different and similar to that of my
own. We covered a wide variety of subjects in a relatively short period
of time, but one particularly interesting discussion grabbed my
attention. To some extent, it might as well have sufficed for the main
idea of every related topic we covered. Many were within a few
semesters of graduation, and starting to contemplate what life after
college would have in store for them. A few were students at Earlham, though all attended schools with similar dynamics and demographics.

While discussing the societal flaws in gender roles and gender distinctions, a male student
spoke with deep concern regarding the limitations of the liberal bubble
which he currently inhabited. He had learned to feel very comfortable
in a place where everyone more or less thought as he did, cultural
policing was kept to a minimum, and where he was free to openly display
parts of himself without fear of censure. Yet, he also knew that he was
a dweller in an extremely tiny universe whose freedoms ended within a
few steps of campus. Adjusting to the greater world after having been
immersed in a place much more permissive and encouraging was not a
comforting thought to him. Moreover, he also wondered whether what he
had learned would even be applicative to the world beyond the gates of
academia.

To be sure, many colleges and universities provide a relatively sheltered environment where experimentation and searching
for identity are encouraged. Many students, myself included, explored
matters of personal identity that had often been forcibly repressed or
submerged. And, as is often true, once I graduated and entered the
so-called world of Adulthood™, I put those ways behind me. I have,
however, often wondered if whether being an "adult" implied an
obligation to retreat back into the universal closet in which we all
live, living in constant fear that others will be unrestrained to out us
or other us.

The student I mentioned above was mulling over what it would be like to live in a world where there were not co-ed
restrooms, protests, frequent references made to gender studies and
queer theory, compost heaps, ethical consumerism, petition signing, and a
near uniformity in ideological identification. I understand his
reservations well. If I could inhabit this world, there are any number
of things about myself I would openly reveal, knowing I would be
unlikely to make someone else uncomfortable. Being mocked or
misunderstood for any reason is to know human cruelty. And, like him, I
also know that the good work I seek to do can never be accomplished
within a sheltered environment, only when I enter spaces where the
behavior of others cannot be easily predicted or controlled.

A female student asked me why I spoke openly and frequently about some of
the identities I claim for myself, Feminist being the most notable. Her exact question was, "Why do you keep
advertising yourself?" My response to her was that it was a proactive
gesture I had learned to adopt long ago, largely to prevent others from
jumping to conclusions without first knowing the facts. What a
wonderful day it will be when we all don't have to add caveats to what
we say or who we are without someone else making an assumption that is
entirely off base. Whenever anyone feels a compulsion to say, "I'm not a
Feminist, but...", "I'm not religious, but...", or the ever-popular
"I'm not racist, but..." herein lies proof of our compulsion to distance
ourselves from potential hurt stemming from minimal information.

I pause here to note that was not born into the same world as most of
these Friends. Though I often take solace in the fact that that my
upbringing could have been far more conservative and restrictive than it
was, I was nonetheless raised by two parents whose working-class
Southern WASP inclination produced in me a very different perspective.
As is common for many, from a very young age, I knew I would have to
leave the region of my birth and settle elsewhere to ever find true
community. Having done so, I am certainly thankful for the opportunity,
but I know I will always feel like an outsider in some ways.

I applaud the existence of restrooms not restricted to sex or gender, but
I still feel uneasy if a woman enters the stall next to me. I believe
in gender equality, but I know I ought to carefully consider my audience
and volume at which I speak. In certain circumstances, I have found
unexpected enemies and unexpected allies. Sometimes women I speak to
are the most critical of Feminism and men the most supportive. I am a
follower of Jesus, but I have a well-rehearsed litany of about fifteen
different tried-and-true apologetic statements designed to put others at
ease (and to not be treated differently, as well).

I notice often how when we encounter someone different from us, someone who
claims an identity easily inclined to provoke an emotional response, our
awkwardness in their company leads us in one of two paths. The first
is prejudicial, where we are violently opposed and passionately
offended. The second is also born of discomfort, but takes the form of
people who seek tolerance and understanding but are nonetheless
uncomfortable. Theirs is the path of overcompensation, and usually is
characterized by people who are overly and unnecessarily helpful,
understanding, and eager to make one feel included and a part. The
second is, of course, much preferred to the first; it's still worth
noting that a state of personal ill-ease is present in both scenarios.


It has been said many times before that true learning and understanding does not arrive without a degree of anxiety also
present. But it seems as though the anxiety can be both helpful and
unhelpful, depending on its form. I remember reading once that there
are two types of stress, Eustress, which motives us and keeps us moving
forward, and Distress, which robs us of energy and health. One usually
thinks of these things as mutually exclusive, but they may not be. The
degree and the intensity of each may depend on the individual and the
situation. Everyone has a particular threshold for conflict. Some say
that not all conflict is destructive, but how easy it is for conflict to
spiral out of control. Some may need the security of a liberal bubble
and some may wish to practice their conflict resolution skills on a
daily basis. As much as I wish that what I learned in safe spaces could
be spread far and wide, I know also that resistance is likely to be
extreme in some corners.

Being open and honest with the outside world is a revolutionary gesture, but some of us may not be
revolutionaries. Even now, in my private life, there is much I keep to
myself and a few trusted friends because the potential pain of public
knowledge is too much. In this context, I am referring to realities
about myself that in liberal circles would cause no one to bat so much
as an eyelash, but would be borderline scandalous to those who hold
conservative beliefs.

It's tough to be a solitary activist in any form. I would often feel more comfortable sitting at a segregated
lunch counter with several other people than as Rosa Parks, one person
out of many hostile voices. To some extent, I have taken both roles
before, but the concept of strength in numbers is enough to steel the
resolve of many otherwise disinclined to act. It seems that in this day
and age, we are inclined far less towards group solidarity and more
towards individual rebellion. The irony of this phenomenon is that that
we're all individually rebelling to some degree, but we know not of the
similar struggle of our neighbor. I long for a day where we'll put
aside the possibility for individual loss in place of the promise of
communal gain. We have become masters of risk-averse thinking, which
while it provides no losses, it also provides no gains.

Until we do this, the liberal bubble may only provide a short respite from the
rest of the world. We often look back on our salad days as an
all-too-brief reprieve from the numbing boredom and frantic pace of
adulthood. We'd eagerly return to it if we could. Ideally, we would
view it much differently, as the point at which our conscience and
perspective was seasoned and formed. We would see it with nostalgia,
the same way we reflect fondly upon a love affair or the beginning of a
successful project. Progressives have a habit of creating safe havens,
but precious few of these ideas and concepts trickle out beyond these
borders. Each of us could address this problem in our own way, but to
do so requires us to take note that everyone's contribution is different
and based on different factors. We seem to think quite often times
that everyone is entitled to his or her own way of solving a problem,
provided it agrees with ours.