When the principle of tolerance becomes intolerable, it's time to worry
I generally avoid writing about politics
But when politics walks into your front yard and makes off with your personal property, I can’t not write about it.
To paraphrase Leon Trotsky (who was speaking about war): you may not be interested in politics, but politics is interested in you.
This weekend, the politics of division was certainly interested in us and our well-meaning yard sign.
We live in Idaho. It’s a red state. We get that
We knew that long before we moved from the blue bubble of our corner of California (or, as we say now, The State To The South That Shall Not Be Named) to a different bubble, one that’s redder than a corpuscle.
Idaho regularly makes the national news for its neon-scarlet politics. The state has one of the most restrictive abortion bans in the nation — there’s an exception for “the life of the mother” but not the health of the mother.
I have personally listened to OBGYNs’ heart-wrenching stories of wondering how close to death they have to let a mother — who is likely to have other children waiting for her at home — get before they can give her needed care. Or when she’s critical enough but still able to tolerate being flown out of state to Oregon or Washington (a helicopter ride that she and her family may have to go into debt to pay for).
The state has lost nearly a quarter of its practicing OBGYNs since Dobbs. At least 13 of Idaho’s 44 counties are now maternity care deserts, with birthing centers closing and rural women living over 100 miles from an obstetric provider.
That’s so upsetting that the Idaho State Legislature dealt with it by allowing funding for the state maternity mortality board to sunset in 2023, thus becoming the only state in the U.S. without one — the year after Dobbs.
The board has been reinstated since, but I’m still seething. I used to fantasize about my younger son and his wife moving up here and raising their kids in our idyllic neighborhood, but no longer. This currently isn’t a safe state for women of childbearing age.
And that’s just one issue
Idaho also makes the news for its mouth-foaming hysteria about trans kids and adults — in the 2024 legislative session there were 19 anti-trans bills introduced. This in a state with a population of less than two million, which, assuming Idaho correlates with the rest of the nation in its 1.14% of adults who identify as transgender, means we’re talking about less than 23,000 people.
Our red-blooded legislators also have a fondness for book banning, chipping away at public education in favor of school vouchers, and making sure that, while the government can totally get its hands on our uteruses, it can’t touch our guns. We rank #48 in the nation for gun law strength (with 50 being weakest).
And don’t get those guys started on racism! In a recent town hall meeting in northern Idaho, when a legislative candidate who is a member of the Nez Perce Tribe respectfully pushed back on Republican state senator Dan Foreman’s assertion that discrimination doesn’t exist here, he told her to go back where she came from.
Do I even need to mention that Foreman was born in another state, while the Nez Perce have been in what is now Idaho for thousands of years?
So why, you ask, do you live there?
Because there’s more to life than politics, even though these days that’s sometimes hard to remember.
Idaho is a beautiful state, and we love it here. We have family here. We adore our sweet Boise neighborhood, which is a purple island in a sea of crimson. The people we’ve met everywhere we go in the state have been, almost unfailingly, kind and respectful.
And one refreshing thing about living here is that other people don’t assume you see things the way they do. That’s a real difference from our previous liberal enclave in NorCal, and we regard it as healthy.
Idaho culture, when not skewed via an extremist lens, is marked by common sense, taking responsibility for your own stuff, and respect for others’ rights.
Especially other people’s property. That’s big in Idaho.
Honestly, I’m pretty sure if Tim Walz were an Idahoan, he’d fit right in.
Also, nobody bothers much about us Democrats
Statewide, only about 12% of registered voters in Idaho are Dems. Our entire federal congressional delegation is Republican and has been for as long as most voters can remember.
Republicans in the state legislature are far less threatened by Democrats than they are by each other, as they continually fight off attempts from candidates even farther to the right to primary them out of office.
This means the Ds can act as a sort of stealth wing, helping to mitigate some of the nuttier initiatives of the Uber-Rs. Without the Dems in the legislature, libraries and schools would be in considerably worse shape than they are. In my state district, our senator and both House reps are Democrats, and they’ve been effective.
We heard a roundup of their accomplishments at an August barbecue for our district Dems — which is where we got the “One Idaho” yard sign that we’ve been proudly displaying ever since.
Until this weekend
Our sign was a copy of the one in the photo. It’s not a campaign sign. It doesn’t tell anyone who to vote for or what to believe. It’s a statement of inclusion. It’s intended as encouragement, a friendly reminder, to regard everyone else here —from whatever race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, and political affiliation — as fully deserving of tolerance and respect.
You’d think that would be hard to argue with. There are other signs in the ‘hood, ones that proclaim that Black lives matter and the household believes that science is real, etc. — and those signs have so far gone unmolested.
But something in the atmosphere is changing, and that’s deeply troubling.
It’s not so much that we’re missing a sign that cost us a $10 donation and two minutes to place in our front flowerbed. We can easily replace it.
It’s that it was in our front flowerbed, close to our front porch, not in the parking strip or next to the sidewalk, inarguably an item of personal property and not something stuck in a public right-of-way.
Like I said, it’s been there since August. Neighbors and passers-by have complimented us on it. But now we’re less than a month away from a presidential election that seems to be making everyone at least a little nuts.
And suddenly, our sign advocating tolerance cannot be tolerated. So much so that someone waited until we weren’t home, walked up to within three feet of our front door, took the sign off its posts, and made off with it.
We’re a little surprised we didn’t find its torn remnants in the gutter. It would be nice to think the sign was taken by kids who wanted it for their clubhouse, but even I’m not enough of a Pollyanna to go there.
I don’t mourn the loss of the sign. I mourn what its loss means
It means that even the mildest expressions of a progressive bent will be suppressed by any means available. It means free speech is under attack. It means that division and dominance have become firmly enshrined by the other side, so much so that the laws they claim to uphold only apply to people they agree with.
It means we are all forced into choosing sides, no matter how inclusive we wish to be.
It means democracy as we understand it is on a knife’s edge, in a way it hasn’t been in my fairly long lifetime.
It means something fearful and destructive has been unleashed — something that has been simmering and at times bubbling up since our nation’s founding — and this time we may not be able to contain it.
It means that fascism, given a chance and enough time, will come for us all. Even those of us who think our ideology makes us safe. That’s how fascism works. It’s also why it’s doomed to failure, but that failure can come at the cost of many dismal years and untold lives ended or ruined.
And this time it may come at the cost of our planetary habitat.
I refuse to give up hope
Just like I refuse to shut up, or stop putting signs in my yard. The sign-sneak-thieves have only strengthened my commitment to do all I can to use my voice in the coming weeks. That’s why I’m canvassing, participating in phone banks, writing postcards, and calling my Republican congressional delegation so often their staffers have begun recognizing my voice.
I don’t do that stuff because I enjoy it. For the most part, I’d rather be doing almost anything else. But I’m resolved to do what I can.
And if I needed a reminder of the urgency of Election 2024, having my kindly meant yard sign ripped off sure gets the job done.
Photo courtesy Idaho Democratic Party
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