Trouble at the Intersection

It’s a humid Tuesday evening in late Spring, and I’m driving home after a particularly long day at work. It’s been warm all day and I’m in long sleeves, so I roll them up and roll the windows down, enjoying the breeze and my freedom. The album Come On Now Social by the Indigo Girls, one of my all-time favorites, is playing loudly on my CD player. The song is track four, called “Trouble.”

I stop at a red light, and suddenly become very tense. I turn the music down to a very low volume just before Emily Saliers sings these lines:

And when the clergy take a vote
all the gays will pay again
‘Cause there’s more than one
kind of criminal white collar

I nervously look around at the cars stopped around me to see if anyone else has their windows down. Then, very quickly, my anxiety is joined by shame. Why should I care who hears my music? It’s certainly no more objectionable than some of the obscene lyrics I’ve heard pouring out of other people’s car windows. I feel almost like I'm betraying one of my favorite bands by being bashful about listening to them in public, and betraying myself by caring more about the judgment of strangers than my own enjoyment of life and of art.

As the light turns green and traffic begins moving again, I feel more relaxed; specific lyrics aren’t as likely to be heard by passersby when the car is in motion. I turn the volume back up, and begin to examine my feelings as I drive.

Those four simple lines blatantly invoke the “Big Three”: the taboo subjects almost guaranteed to spark controversy, conflict, and hostility when brought up in the wrong company. Those subjects are religion, politics, and sex. They’re not only powerfully loaded subjects on their own, but almost always interlinked in some way. When two or more of the subjects intersect, they feed off one another and magnify each other’s discords.

With a sense of grim foreboding, I remember that it has been almost five years since Jim Adkisson walked into a Tennessee church and opened fire. The reason? The church was of a liberal denomination, and Adkisson blamed liberals for what he perceived as the nation’s ills. It was neither the first nor the last time that a citizen of my country has sought to murder others for their political beliefs. As I contemplate, several other specific incidents come to mind of people attacked and sometimes killed for being of a certain political party, a certain religion, a certain gender, or a certain sexual orientation. I’m sure you, too, can think of several similar stories without even trying; our news sources give us new examples almost on a daily basis.

Thinking of these stories, I suddenly feel less ashamed of my nervousness at the intersection. I live in a world where people are indeed endangered by their politics, religion, and sex, and it is not unreasonable to be cautious about bringing up such subjects among strangers. However, in the future I will attempt to be more courageous. After all, if I can be attacked for who I am and what I believe, I can just as easily be loved and celebrated for the same reasons. And so can all of us.

A few minutes later, track five plays on my CD player, and Amy Ray sings:

I  know your heart’s in danger
And so is your life.
I said you learn to trust a stranger,
Stop and rest for the night.
Set your site up in the headlight
The moon won’t be enough.
Light the embers of another
And the night won’t seem so rough,
Sister.