The Karens are angry because they are scared

Even in the middle of societal free fall — especially in the middle of societal free fall — the way we talk to and about each other still matters. With Americans figuratively and literally at each other’s throats, we will be wise to remember that.

Take the controversy over wearing or not wearing face masks. I’ve seen a lot of sentiment that suggests that many Americans don’t want to wear masks in the middle of a pandemic because they abhor the idea of being kind to their neighbors. We’re told that we’re part of a deranged culture, hell bent on hurting others.

I have to admit that our culture has many dark aspects, and that they become more starkly apparent in times of crisis. At the same time, most of the people you know are not interested in actively harming their neighbors. Instead, I would argue, most of the people you know have different ways of processing stress and fear.

We react in a variety of ways to crisis — and a pandemic, not to mention the abject horror of the current election cycle, certainly qualifies as an epic crisis. Some of us rush to adapt and innovate. Others seek comfort in the familiar. It is precisely the unfamiliar aspect of wearing a mask out in public that — and I will not be afraid to use this word here — actually triggers so many people.

They do not, however, wish to admit that they are triggered. Not everyone has the Tumblr mindset of listing stuff they are triggered by — i.e. not everyone likes to boldly splay such emotions out for the public. So people like this seek justification in conspiracy theories. They invoke a rather vague, but lofty, concept of liberty. They tell you that masks are a communist plot. Or else that they are emasculating. They look to the president for guidance, and the president’s guidance remains frankly shitty. They get into altercations with store managers and fellow customers, where their past feelings of entitlement, usually an entitlement that is largely unacknowledged in their daily lives, may become apparent. They act out.

When the now infamous subgenre of Florida Man, this one featuring a guy yelling “I will not be muzzled,” made its rounds, a lot of people who rightly recognize the need to wear masks right now laughed it off. Here was another ridiculous idiot — from Florida, obviously — making a spectacle of himself for no good reason.

What about the fact that this man was clearly in distress? And possibly ill? And simply afraid? To be clear, in dangerous times, there is no point in making excuses for his behavior. He is endangering others, that much is clear. We can’t sugarcoat what he was doing, and furthermore, we clearly need to vote out the so-called leaders whose policies, or lack thereof, enable it. But when the dust settles, in one way or another, and we go back to rebuilding our society from the rubble of today, it will be important to have some perspective. Will we condemn each other wholesale, or will we learn to forgive?

As the crisis wears on, we see many examples of courage and cowardice. The most obvious of these are easily shared and amplified by social media. Yet the majority of us are simply plodding on — sometimes with dignity, but usually just awkwardly. We’re making do. We keep on keeping on. And we will continue to look for common ground, because that’s what living in a society is really all about. When a conspiracy theory-addled relative asked me why I put stock in masks right now, for example, I simply told her, “I just don’t want to inadvertently hurt anyone.” It worked much better than a scientific lecture, because appeals to emotion work better than appeals to facts in times like these — it may be unfortunate, but it’s the truth.

There are millions of people in this country with whom I don’t just vehemently disagree. These are people whose decisions — and whose voting patterns — cause me actual grief, and plunge me and the people I love into danger. These are people whose attitudes can and do kill — when it comes to the way they treat science, or race, or immigration, or health care.

Yet I don’t feel righteous when I condemn what they have done. I feel sad. And, at the end of the day, I want to believe that we may still learn to see each other differently. To reckon with the deep darkness in us (I am not so proud as to believe I am free of it), and to make something better out of it.

Simply put, I believe in us. And I am likely to have that belief sorely tested in the days to come, as we all will. But that’s the thing about having a minimum of faith in each other — it has to be tested if it is to mean anything at all.

Image credit: Alexander Droeger