The Practical Coward
While working for a federal agency in a sparsely populated state, I had an office in a defunct dormitory on the campus of a Native American boarding school. The only people to enter this building were the auxiliary educational staff that worked there (psychologists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, etc.), the students who came to see them, and occasionally the bosses. We didn’t even have maintenance staff—we educational professionals mopped floors and swabbed toilets on a rotating schedule.
My office walls displayed family pictures, student artwork, and a poster that said, “It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber.” But shortly after the infamous events we now refer to as “911,” I took the poster down. Not because my feelings about funding schools had changed—they hadn’t. But the general view on the significance of the military had. I was afraid somebody with authority would take offense and I’d lose my job. I had three kids at home.
My co-workers thought removing the poster was unnecessary, since our workplace was isolated. They were probably right. But during the Viet Nam conflict, I saw my father lose his professorship for expressing his political opinion—which ran contrary to that of the university administration. I was proud of Pop for not compromising his principles. But in my case, I would risk not only my job, but also my home in the teacherage on the campus where I worked. I couldn’t risk it.
My son, who was 14 at the time, respectfully expressed disappointment in me for removing the poster. I now concur my action was cowardly. But sometimes cowardly is practical.
These days, opinion is on the chopping block. Our president has declared Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) efforts to be unlawful, thereby creating a monsoon of censorship. I read in the Washington Post that Veterans Affairs Secretary Douglas A. Collins banned gay pride flags in employees’ private offices. According to the Post, “Collins said the new guidelines would bring ‘consistency and simplicity to the display of flags,’ but some employees complain that the administration is going out of its way to target their personal identity and expression.”
Indeed. Practical folks will take down their flags. And I don’t blame them. They want to remain employed—a tough row to hoe, given the disappearing jobs act currently being performed by our president’s right-hand man, Mr. Musk.
But I’m thankful for those with courage to speak out. Those who’ve filed lawsuits or quit jobs in protest—rather than kowtow to new regulations they believe will endanger the security and democratic nature of our nation. I’m grateful for private companies that still support DEI, knowing our country has never ever leveled the playing field for people of color. For women. For the LGBTQ+ community. If everyone was as practical as I’d been, we’d all be living under a monarchy where free speech is an historic concept we’re not allowed to talk about.
I recently confided to my son, now 38, how futile it feels to express political opinions to a handful of people reading an indie newspaper, while thousands are losing jobs and censorship looms nationwide. He advised me to keep writing. Because something I write might inspire a warrior devoted to liberty and justice for all.
For the record—Pop filed suit against the university that fired him. The settlement didn’t get him reinstated, but guaranteed a favorable letter of recommendation declaring he would have been a tenured professor had he remained. He was a warrior.