oh be still my beating liberal heart

The world has turned upside down here in America.  I think about the pretense of this country - a land of possibility that did not discriminate. 

                                  "Give me your tired, your poor, 

                        Your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free, 

                          The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, 

                       Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, 

                             I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

Everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone faces struggle. Big or small to those of us casually peering in from the outside, an individual's struggle is still that of her own. It is a place where she is challenged, forced out of her comfort zone. Pushed to the limits and beyond into uncharted territory. 

I believe we are all created equal and should have access to all those basic things like education, civil rights and liberties. I believe that we all have a struggle we are working our way through. I believe we are all more alike than we are different. We are human beings and as such our greatest capacity and our greatest goal should be love. Singularly. Pure. Simple. Love. Love. Love.

Today I had an interesting conversation with my mother. I certainly hope that "interesting" reads so laden with sarcasm that the letters literally drip down your screen. 

I drop the dogs off to Fox News and I, the bleeding heart liberal, balk at Trump's Muslim ban. I face a woman known as my mother informing me that it is a good thing. I stand in horror. Absolute, palpable horror. 

Blood pressure through the ceiling, in the calmest manner I can I ask why? After listening to the babble, I can only respond that it has to be an all or nothing as singular group of people is not responsible for all ill as I cite Timothy McVeigh as a perfect example of a non-Muslim who murdered Americans. My mother is not deterred. As such, I pull out the big guns as I say, "your future son-in-law is Muslim so he can never set foot on American soil." That stops her in her tracks and her eventual response is "that's different" although I remind her that in the eyes of The Idiot my Director is Muslim and that is the differentiating factor. 

Here I spend my time contemplating the discrimination I will face one day in India but even through my rose-coloured glasses, the struggle is here too. Discrimination is everywhere. It is too prevalent. 

Tonight I am disappointed in the humans that do not see that we are only here to love. Tonight I am disappointed that my mother, whose grandparents were immigrants to this country during the early 20th century can so easily forget that pertinent fact. Will she love her future Indian-American grandchildren? Will she love me when I follow my heart and soul to India? How did I come from such closed-mindedness?