I had a Culture War conversation with a few friends in the months after the election.
The conversation was not about the future of the Democratic Party, but the culture wars, specifically the war over “cultural appropriation.”
I was surprised by the depth of my disagreement with the political correctness narrative, which is so pervasive in many corners of the internet.
As a woman, I have had to put up with a lot of bullshit from the left for my entire adult life.
In college, I spent most of my time being labeled as a misogynist and a racist.
But it was during this time that I learned that many of the people who call themselves feminists were actually anti-white, anti-sexist, anti–male, anti—or simply anti-Christian.
My point was that people who think of themselves as progressive actually think the same things that they believe the KKK and neo-Nazis believe.
I felt like I was in a culture war.
There were so many voices in my life, and I felt like none of them shared the same beliefs as I did.
I thought I was on the side of the liberals, but I knew it wasn’t that simple.
I decided to go back to the source.
I was fascinated by the “cultural identity” arguments that people made, arguing that if we were a single culture, we could be said to have a “cultural” identity.
There was no such thing as a single identity in history, and we were all part of a cultural “movement” for a reason.
I wondered if people could be so wrong about how we got here, and if I was part of the problem.
I wanted to know how many people I had wronged because of my own identity politics, and whether I could actually be forgiven for having a different opinion.
I asked my friends if they had ever been wronged by anyone, and the overwhelming answer was yes.
I felt betrayed.
But I also felt that I was being a bit naive about the culture war and the idea that I could have the same opinion as any other person.
I began to realize that I had been living in a very different world.
I no longer felt like the same person.
I knew that my beliefs, my views, and my opinions were not a problem for everyone.
I realized that my identity wasn’t the problem, and that it was the other people’s ideas that were.
I started to wonder if I had ever really understood what I had become.
In the years since then, I’ve come to realize how important it is for everyone to listen to each other and to each others’ perspectives.
I know that it takes an effort to get things right, and it takes bravery to take those things away from someone who you disagree with.
I can’t help but feel like a hypocrite for doubting my own self-worth, because I’ve been able to get away with my own ideas about race, gender, class, sexuality, and even religion.
I’ve never been able even to get to a place where I can say that I don’t believe in racism, sexism, and homophobia.
But these things were the things that I believed in when I was young.
Now that I am older, I don.
It took a while to come to terms with my past, but now I understand how important listening to eachother is.
I can see that other people don’t always agree with me on everything, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to find ways to respect their viewpoints and their opinions.
I know that my friends and I can be more open to the ideas of others.
I think that we can be just as critical of ourselves.
I understand that we might not agree with each other on everything.
I hope that when we listen to one another, we can come to see each other as allies.