Human Essay: Strangers in their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right

 The Deep Story and Community of Strangers

All humans, no matter where they originate from, have a story. More specifically, every member of any group has an informed perspective of the world based on their experiences, traditions, or culture. Sociologist and writer Arlie Hochschild describes this narrative as an individual’s “deep story.” In her book, Strangers in their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right, Hochschild travels to Louisiana in search of narratives that counter or contradict her own. She interviews and shadows many citizens to gather an understanding of their stories and to see what makes them unique in their experiences. Hochschild sought to put herself in the shoes of those she encountered, trying to observe the lives and ideals of this group in the heart of the South. To be human from the perspectives of those represented within this book is to be part of a group, a contributing member of a sustained and prideful community.

Southern hospitality is a frequent term while positively describing the Deep South, but much that is said of the region by those not aligned with their beliefs is negative. It is understandable for those within the communities in that area to feel as if the rest of the country is against them, for many reasons. A common “deep story” of those in the South, as explored by Hochschild, is a feeling of isolation from the rest of the country and government, combined with a collective sense of pride, often for assumed preservation of concepts such as The American Dream or for the continuation of older religious ideals. The citizens focused on within the book have a combined pride in their success as a community, and their identities are preserved by this sense of self.

Another facet of the personas described in this novel is found while examining the citizens’ reactions to current political changes. One of the most influential parts of this novel comes when Hochschild brings the reader into the shoes of those she interviewed by describing a line making its way toward the American Dream. People given aid by the government, for any reason, are seen as unfair citizens, cutters in the line of progression. Those in the Deep South attempting to make their way toward this dream feel cheated by the government and those who seem to be making their way forward. People who benefit from this system of aid are seen as less, simply due to the chances they’ve been given. Hochschild presents this opinion by saying to the reader that “these are opportunities you’d have loved to have in your day, and either you should’ve had them when you were young, or the young shouldn’t be having them now.” This call to empathy allows a reader to see from these people’s eyes, contemplating why the actions and feelings of that person are meaningful and informed, even if they aren’t positive.

Many of the negative statements said about the Deep South and the political alignments of those within it stem from their mistreatment or discrimination toward minorities. To them, traditional households often require a woman as a homemaker, traditional marriage is between a man and a woman, and traditional “America” is run and inhabited by people who look like them. Hochschild explores this concept through her analogy of a line toward the American Dream. Those behind and ahead of the viewer are the people they started their journey with, often from similar backgrounds and with similar ideals. Everyone else is a blur. The harm comes when the viewer sees people begin to bypass the line, people who look and sound and love differently than everyone else who has waited their turn. These people walking past are dehumanized. They’re reduced to a factor of their identity, and that identity is being given aid that the viewer wasn’t offered. Their faces were a blur anyways, so why wouldn’t the viewer think that gay, black, Muslim, transgender, and many other types of people were being treated specially by a government that doesn’t care for the “Real American,” the one who has been waiting and working their way through a line toward their rightful dream. The viewer lacks an understanding of the struggle that warrants these allowances, the years of racism, homophobia, and religious persecution that permeated these citizens' lives before they were given a bit of a boost by a society that finally seems to care about them. Of course they don’t see that perspective, though, as they were conversing with those around them in line, people who look and believe and love just like them.

As someone raised in a very diverse setting, I have always had difficulty engaging with people similar to those mentioned in this book. However, Hochschild’s line segment aided in my understanding of this people group. With my identity belonging to multiple groups frequently antagonized by people within this American Dream line, I found it difficult to remove my preconceived ideas regarding people who tend to be right-leaning Christians. Surprisingly, my time at SPU so far has changed my perspective on some of these situations, especially when engaging in discussion with some of my classmates who hold differing, if not entirely contrasting, views to mine. Hochschild’s book helped me to chip away at the empathy wall I’ve built for myself, and I believe that books like this are vital to our understanding of those around us. We are responsible for our allowance of differing opinions to enter our lives, and this book shows how we can expand our points of view without changing them entirely.

Strangers in their Own Land highlights the stories of people who have often been reduced to caricatures, exploring how their opinions were formed by the world they inhabited. Hochschild expresses insight into their sense of community and humanity, giving the reader a walk along the road that was formed by citizens seeking out an American Dream.

Human Essay: God's Long Summer

 Humanity Under the Watch of God

As members of society, one of the first things we are taught is to attempt to see a situation from the point of view of another: “imagine what it would be like in their shoes.” This subtle pull to empathy seeks to engage us in dialogue with others, driving our desires to understand their backgrounds and beliefs. Society fosters many stories and perspectives, the majority of which directly influence another group, either in a dynamic of power or companionship. In God’s Long Summer, five different stories of Mississippi’s 1964 “Freedom Summer,” all with varying social, political, racial, and religious backgrounds, demonstrate the variety of humanity. From Fanny Lou Hamer, a pious civil rights activist, to Sam Bowers, a similarly religious Klu Klux Klansman, Charles Marsh weaves together the narratives of these contrasting citizens, telling a story of guidance and belief. To be human within the context of God’s Long Summer is to be driven by an ideal bigger than oneself. 

Multiple qualities are seen as the driving forces behind different individuals represented in this overarching narrative. For William Douglas Hudgins, this focal point is the concept of an isolationist church, and he devoted his life to the assumed preservation of the sanctity of his religion. From another perspective, Ed King, a white pastor, sought the integration of church spaces, fighting for his beliefs of acceptance and Christian action. Each figure depicted in this novel had a belief that served as their foundation, the majority of which were based on their interpretation of the Christian religion. These pursuits set them apart as individuals, granting humanity to each in turn. While their beliefs may not be seen as all-encompassing or even generally positive, each statement of purpose grants that person individuality. 

The second chapter of this book is devoted to Sam Bowers, detailing his life and rise to notoriety as the Imperial Wizard of the Klu Klux Klan of Mississippi. Bowers led many egregious acts of violence, all under his beliefs in religion. Throughout his chapter, Bowers detailed multiple instances of spiritual communication that he felt guided by throughout his righteous journey. At a point within his chapter, Bowers chronicled the events following an unfulfilled suicide attempt, where he resolved that “[his] life is no longer [his] own: it is God’s” (Marsh, 2008, p. 55). This man, whose life was defined by damage and hatred, believed in the same God that the rest of the members of this text do. 

When the Klu Klux Klan is mentioned, many people imagine the group’s signature hoods and outfits, items that define the members as part of a whole. While dehumanization can be seen in the other stories of God’s Long Summer, Sam Bowers has a life of dehumanization on both sides, from his assumed enemies to his own identity. While none of the events of his past condone his actions, Marsh explores this man’s life from an objective standpoint, not trying to sympathize, but to give the reader a deeper insight into the life of a man so influential to American history. In the case of Marsh’s chosen stories, dehumanization can be defined as reducing people to an “other,” a separate, often opposing group only defined by its separation from the viewer’s beliefs. Bowers’ story shows evidence of him dehumanizing others, as the crowd he led was a white supremacist hate group. However, on a less evident note, Bowers has been dehumanized as an individual, reduced to a number within the Klan. Marsh’s exploration of both his personal and religiopolitical identities shapes Bowers into an intriguing, while simultaneously repulsive, figure in American history.

On the topic of influence, it is evident that one of Marsh’s primary goals for this compilation of perspectives was to emphasize how stories of different natures influence the lives of those who are considered allies or enemies. On a deeper level, this means holding those with power to make statements responsible for the effects of their ideals on others. Responsibility is arguable, as some may favor an “every man for himself” approach as opposed to a community-based group of support. A character within the novel that showcases an intriguing amount of personal responsibility is Ed King, who broke away from the stereotypes of his social, racial, and religious identities by fighting for the rights of black citizens and growing into an incredibly vocal activist. King’s perspective on society shaped his personal responsibilities, at least in his own eyes. An integral part of the concept of responsibility is that one is taught the social expectations of them, in order to shape how they interpret what they are “responsible” for. Those raised in a culture with less empathetic expectations are subject to looser ideas of responsibility. No one is misguided through their own eyes, and we see within this book how different interpretations of righteous purpose lead to vastly separate conclusions.

Charles Marsh sought out these stories to communicate the events of Freedom Summer from multiple intertwined perspectives, all with different motives, but similar sources. The individuality of characters is shaped by their convictions in combination with the groups they belong to. Fanny Lou Hamer was a black woman who served as a devout and powerful activist. Sam Bowers was a white man whose beliefs in religion led him to a position of power within one of America’s most harmful extremist groups. William Douglas Hudgins was a white Baptist pastor who believed strongly in the isolation of the church. Ed King was a white activist who sought to desegregate churches, creating safe spaces for mixed-race communities to exist. Finally, Cleveland Sellers was a black political educator who set the foundations of non-violent educated power. All of these figures were guided by their paths of intent, their identities defined by their actions and how they were remembered. Marsh highlights the importance of these beliefs in his work, emphasizing the purpose and effects of events such as Freedom Summer.

Human Essay: Witness

 A Witness to Humanity

When examining the course of human history, many monumental events stand out, either as testaments to the kindness of humanity or the race’s profound and unforgettable cruelty. Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor, renowned activist, and respected writer, experienced this cruelty firsthand but used his life experience to shape and inform the changing world of the events taking place within the lives of those affected by immeasurable harm. Wiesel taught of his experiences in the Humanities Department at Boston University, fostering an engaging question-based classroom setting. He challenged his students on their notions of perspective and humanity, led by the diverse lives of those who took his courses combined with his personal story. Ariel Burger, a close friend of Wiesel’s, as well as an assistant within his classroom, chronicled these events in his book Witness: Lessons From Elie Wiesel’s Classroom. Informed by the discussions in Witness, it can be stated that humanity is found within observing the world around you and making personal judgments about the events taking place. When someone is dehumanized, if they are stripped of what makes them inherently “human,” often made part of a larger whole, removed of their individuality, and restricted from personal contemplative thought or questioning. 

Wiesel’s classroom saw many students over the years, and Burger’s introduction of each speaker highlights the diversity present within the classroom. Before reading a student’s statement or question, the reader is informed of that student’s area of study, as well as their name and often another identifying feature about them. Burger makes a clear point to emphasize each student’s individuality, and the questions offered will often convey important points regarding their perspective or background. Within the class, Wiesel makes a clear point to listen to others, bonding over similarities and respectfully discussing differences. After a Catholic student asks him a question that concerns the respect of other religions, Wiesel ends his response with the statement: “The distance between us is not as great as we think it is” (Burger, 2018, p. 61). Witness seeks to teach the reader, as Wiesel taught his students, that humanity is found within all of us, and our experience of getting in touch with it is informed by our experiences and the stories we choose to be a witness to.

On the other hand, dehumanization is referenced in Wiesel’s teachings when he discusses great tragedy by human intentions. One such example comes when Wiesel states that “the killer is as human as we are, but he has chosen to betray his humanity” (Burger, 2018, p. 52). This type of removal from humanity is one of three mentioned within the book, the second of which is the conditioning of those malleable enough to be inducted into a position of harm. Finally, an underlying narrative within Wiesel’s story is the mention of the dehumanization of those undergoing mass tragedy, such as prisoners in the Holocaust. These victims are dehumanized due to their lack of control and the circumstances of their confinement. These three perspectives, one of sought violence, one of pliability, and one of captivity, paint a vivid picture of what it means to be both human and dehumanized. The concept of dehumanization comes into play when people conform to a greater whole, a quantifiable number, united under a certain label or ideal. Once people lose their individuality, they are subject to the treatment and actions of their group or idea, following suit due to a fear of the ostracization or punishment of their peers or captors. Wiesel’s life story, from a teenager within a concentration camp to a world-renowned activist and philosopher, can be examined as a reclamation of his humanity, breaking out of the oppressive systems of his youth to tell his story, from the widespread and respected academic and philosophical communities of the world to the small space of his ever-insightful class.

The story of Witness, almost even more so than Wiesel’s life itself, is the tale of students and a teacher. Ariel Burger is a witness to Wiesel’s story, and he has made us witnesses to his journey through the friendship of his teacher. Within the book, the author contemplates “[what his mission is], as a witness to a witness” (Burger, 2018, p. 229). It is the responsibility of humans to acknowledge the systems around them, and attempt to understand the affects of the actions of the groups they participate in on those within and surrounding their community. From the perspective of a witness, that entails action. The act of remaining a bystander in these troubling scenarios removes the ability to act according to one’s personal biases. Instead of becoming a participant, a bystander loses their sense of individuality, reducing them to a number or statistic. However, if one steps out of their place of observation, they are able to act, becoming more “human” in the process. On the negative side of this act is those who commit harm to others to conform to a desire or demand. They have renounced their humanity for violence, nursing a cycle of cruelty. 

Wiesel’s life is one of intense struggle and immense success, and one of the most profound parts of his story was his hope and faith, both in his spiritual life and in the world that had warred against him. Despite the torture he endured, Elie Wiesel still had the belief that humanity as a race was grounded in good, that any act of violence warred against the humanity of the person committing it. Through his life and work, Wiesel committed himself to the identity of the witness, carrying his story with him, and allowing those close to him insight into the lessons he had learned from it.

What Does It Mean To Be Human - Intro Paper

 The Processes of Humanity vs. The Processes of the Human

It is a fact of life that humanity is flawed, from the biblical moment of the first sin to a daily encounter of discrimination, or simply the shortcomings of otherwise healthy human bodies. Humanity exists within the boundaries of physical form and has created boundaries of mental and societal nature as society has progressed. Societal structure often harms the individual thinkers within it, separating humanity as a concept from the individual figure of a “human.” What it meant to be human to me is not as much a question of consciousness or knowledge, but a question of place and identity within a surrounding culture. 

Humanity as a culture seeks similarity. The act of forming communities often involves seeking uniformity, a pleasant monotony in those nearby. While the fostering of cultures is integral to the progression of society, lest cultures fade to obscurity in favor of similitude, it is an undeniable truth that communities will continue as varying sectors of shared ideas, traits, or beliefs. An integral piece in the history of human society is the concept of segregation, the act of separating one or more from a whole due to an identifying difference. While seen in large-scale tragedies like the United States’ continued history with racism or the German pursuit of assumed “purity” through the Holocaust, segregation is also seen in small ways throughout history, influencing individuals to the point of either notability or insignificance. 

One such figure was artist Vincent Willem van Gogh, who was ostracized throughout his life for his differences but praised for them after his passing. Separated from society and seen as the common humor of his town, Van Gogh sought to capture the beauty that he saw so vividly, all the while knowing of his community’s opposition to his creation. For a man that has become a staple of art history, Van Gogh’s experience within the culture he lived in was overwhelmingly negative. However, he is often regarded as one of the most talented painters, and most intriguing people, that ever lived. His view of the world was one of indescribable brilliance, a colorful perception of the people and places he held dear. When humanity praises its progress, one of the topics often highlighted is creativity, the preservation of a soulful form of creation that can be seen and interpreted by all, each coming away with their own view on why a piece was created and what it represents. For all that is held dear within the art community, many artists of all forms have experienced a similar journey of opposition and praise as Van Gogh. Humans create in many forms, but the most notable products of creators often come from turmoil and opposition. From my perspective, I see it as near impossible to imagine a society without creativity, and creativity without separation from a whole. 

As I was raised, being human and part of humanity was about fitting in, by any means necessary. As an autistic person, I was taught that my “true self,” what I felt was wholly me, was something to hide, to let out among those closest to me, but only for small periods, in order to not scare them away. If I was too loud or too quiet, too talkative or too isolated, moved too much in ways that weren’t societally common, or didn’t follow typical notions of “normal” life, I was told that I was inaccessible as a person or friend, too isolated within my own world to possibly be someone that others would see as a possible connection. Humanity as a societal concept felt out of reach, too far to be reasonable as a goal for my life, but too close to ignore as a standard of existence beyond my “own world.” In order to be approachable and liked, I conformed to societal demands, attempting to subdue the things that made me “other.” It was only until the pandemic hit that I was able to confront the effects this suppression had on my mental health, and coming out of the extended isolation, I feel more “myself” than I have since I was a child. While the greater portion of humanity does not experience many of the small details that make my lived experience my own, each person has their weight to bear, the things they stifle in order to conform to a whole. In this age where we are approaching societal gatherings with both caution and anticipation, people are more themselves than ever, having had time to reflect as I did. Pauses like this help foster a sense of growth within society, giving people time to choose their own paths, free of outside influence.

The cultures we were raised in are undoubtedly essential to the people we grow into, the shoes we fill in our lives were often worn by those who raised us. However, when we are removed from the roles we are expected to conform to, we are left to reflect on our own beliefs through all lenses. Having gained the knowledge of those before us, we are able to reflect and choose our own paths. Many adults consider college their first venture into adult life, and while this is reflective of age at the time, it is also often the first time modern-age humans are separated from the beliefs and identities they were raised within. In giving people a chance to think for themselves, humanity advances in many ways, from spirituality to ingenuity. To me, humanity is the perseverance of individuality despite the pursuit of similarity, and the acknowledgment of differences in views based on the origin of one’s ideals and beliefs. The progression of human history reflects the simple value of community, but also highlights the influence of isolation on those who were separated from it, whether voluntarily or not. Humanity is flawed, and it is still learning, but it is unique if nothing else.