I’ll never forget my first trip aboard a Greyhound bus. A friend and I had planned a trip from our university in Columbia, Missouri, to Washington University, where Chicago rapper Lupe Fiasco was performing. The bus was several hours late, but more notably when it did arrive, the only remaining seat for me was next to a man wearing a flowing ankle-length white robe and pointed white cap. He looked like a klansman. I was later told he in fact was not a klansman. Apparently, his garb was religious, but nothing and no one could convince me in that moment that my life wasn’t in immediate danger. I was a ball of fury, frustration, and tears by the time my friend relieved me and opted to swap seats. I couldn’t understand why no one on the bus but me was having this reaction, and more importantly, if everyone else did in fact view my outburst as a dramatic overreaction, why no one but my friend offered to swap seats.
I don’t blame them. I don’t even necessarily blame the man in the white robe. But there is the small matter of past experiences in this country shaping our lens moving forward. I can’t imagine what it would have triggered if several men in white robes and pointed hats showed up on my front lawn, praying or otherwise. Today’s white robe seems to have unfortunately become the American flag, and several—we’ll call them conservative activists—showed up on the property of Amanda Weinstein, a professor and wife of Ohio state Rep. Casey Weinstein. She handled her situation with far more maturity and restraint than I did.
Weinstein tweeted on Sunday: "As if getting groceries in a pandemic isn’t hard enough. Legitimate political spouse question: how do I get my @Instacart order when my house is blocked with protesters?"
She also reached out to the local police department—always something that gives me pause—and gave her Instacart shopper a heads up. The professor wrote in periodic updates:
Weinstein shared a press release announcing the passage of a bill to "allow for the issuing of temporary occupational licenses to active duty service members and their spouses living in Ohio as a result of undergoing a permanent change of station."
She shared in another tweet: “For those new to Ohio politics, this is also my husband - one of the most vocal opponents fighting against the ‘worst energy bill of the 21st century’ funded by taxpayers & the ‘largest bribery scandal in Ohio history’ orchestrated by @ohiogop”
A few tweets later, Weinstein changed focuses. “Something about standing for the flag and kneeling for the cross - because every good Christian man knows intimidating my 3 year old is part of his faith and his politics,” she wrote.
It’s that moment that should inspire any activist and their peers to rethink exactly why they’re showing up on the front lawn of a political figure’s house. And I’m a journalist from the breaking news world, so I’ve spent many an assignment popping up at elected officials’ houses when they’ve been unresponsive to calls and emails. Intent matters.
Excluding situations in which an elected official is accused of a crime, I can’t honestly say I would feel comfortable popping up at the place where someone is raising their children to advocate for a cause, however near and dear that cause is to me.
I don’t blame them. I don’t even necessarily blame the man in the white robe. But there is the small matter of past experiences in this country shaping our lens moving forward. I can’t imagine what it would have triggered if several men in white robes and pointed hats showed up on my front lawn, praying or otherwise. Today’s white robe seems to have unfortunately become the American flag, and several—we’ll call them conservative activists—showed up on the property of Amanda Weinstein, a professor and wife of Ohio state Rep. Casey Weinstein. She handled her situation with far more maturity and restraint than I did.
Weinstein tweeted on Sunday: "As if getting groceries in a pandemic isn’t hard enough. Legitimate political spouse question: how do I get my @Instacart order when my house is blocked with protesters?"
She also reached out to the local police department—always something that gives me pause—and gave her Instacart shopper a heads up. The professor wrote in periodic updates:
Weinstein shared a press release announcing the passage of a bill to "allow for the issuing of temporary occupational licenses to active duty service members and their spouses living in Ohio as a result of undergoing a permanent change of station."
She shared in another tweet: “For those new to Ohio politics, this is also my husband - one of the most vocal opponents fighting against the ‘worst energy bill of the 21st century’ funded by taxpayers & the ‘largest bribery scandal in Ohio history’ orchestrated by @ohiogop”
A few tweets later, Weinstein changed focuses. “Something about standing for the flag and kneeling for the cross - because every good Christian man knows intimidating my 3 year old is part of his faith and his politics,” she wrote.
It’s that moment that should inspire any activist and their peers to rethink exactly why they’re showing up on the front lawn of a political figure’s house. And I’m a journalist from the breaking news world, so I’ve spent many an assignment popping up at elected officials’ houses when they’ve been unresponsive to calls and emails. Intent matters.
Excluding situations in which an elected official is accused of a crime, I can’t honestly say I would feel comfortable popping up at the place where someone is raising their children to advocate for a cause, however near and dear that cause is to me.