A couple of weeks ago my husband and I were in Dubuque, Iowa. I had never been before, and was utterly entranced by the painstakingly restored riverside city. The bluffs, the architecture, the hiking trails… In short, we loved it and are already looking forward to our next trip back. (Don’t sleep on Dubuque, friends, it is well worth your time!)
However, as we were heading to Galena (on the other side of the Mississippi) one day, we had an experience that I won’t soon forget. While waiting at a red light to cross the bridge into Illinois, we watched as the man in the pick-up in front of us got out of his vehicle. In front of him was an empty auto-hauler, and as he approached the cab my husband and I wondered aloud what he was doing. “Maybe the trucker has a taillight out or something,” my husband mused, and we decided that the stranger’s errand was benevolent. But when he reached the driver’s side door and motioned for the trucker to roll down his window, we were shocked as the man pulled himself onto the running board and proceeded to physically assault the truck driver through the window. His arm arced back again and again as he punched into the cab.
It all happened so fast. And then the light turned green, traffic started to move, and the assailant ran back to his car. We got a license plate and called it in, but we’ll never know what exactly went down that morning or why.
The news today is all abuzz about Kristi Noem (the governor of South Dakota) and her admission that she shot her 14-month old puppy, Cricket, who was “the picture of pure joy.” Apparently, the pup was “untrainable” and Kristi “hated that dog.” So she took Cricket to a gravel pit and shot her in front of a startled construction crew.
You can read hundreds (thousands?) of reactions to this unimaginably cruel and unnecessary act, and I won’t bore you by adding my two cents. I bring it up today not for political purposes or to hop on any bandwagon, but because I think our experience in Dubuque and Kristi Noem’s self-aggrandizing claim that she has what it takes to “get the job done,” are both bitter fruit that springs from the same dark and ugly root.
I wish we could pinpoint the moment when our cultural narrative shifted from one that celebrated community and kindness to a sad story we tell ourselves about the broken state of our dark world and our need to “fight back”—usually with teeth bared and claws out. When instead of honoring kindness, selflessness, and the pursuit of peace, we decided that taking matters into our own hands (often angry, punishing, harsh hands) was better than a more measured, thoughtful approach. Perhaps if we could identify a single, calamitous moment, we could exorcise it like one would a tumor. Instead, I fear the long, slow pendulum swing from civility and a sense of brotherhood to the fierce individualism and glorification of a return to our baser selves will be much more difficult to undo. We’re “politically incorrect” and we “tell it like it is” and we’re “not afraid to do the hard things.” Really, that’s all just code for indulging the recklessness of our sinful selves.
It’s easy to let anger and hatred rule. In fact, once our rage has been activated, it can be incredibly hard to shut down. Anger produces stress hormones which move us from our “thinking brain” into our “feeling brain,” a shift that makes it difficult for us to access rational thought. Instead, we act from a place of blind emotion, often lashing out in unreasonable, aggressive ways that can be in direct opposition to how we would normally, sensibly behave. In this state we lose our ability to connect with others, respond with flexibility and insight, control our impulses, and consider the consequences of our actions. We become children incapable of exercising self control over our words, deeds, and raging emotions. The instinct to hop out of our vehicle and physically assault another person becomes irresistible, a biological urge that we can’t (or won’t) repress. The compulsion to shoot an unruly dog instead of seeking the help of a trainer or rehoming it overrides common decency. We say and do things that would shock our better selves, and then congratulate ourselves for being “real.”
You want to do the hard thing? The hard thing is always kindness.
I find it ironic that Kristi Noem boasted that she has what it takes to do “difficult, messy, ugly” things. No, she took the easy way out when she shot Cricket. And anyone who claims that their awful actions or words are some sort of badge of honor that should signify how “tough” or “authentic” they are is only trying to hide the fact that they are afraid to do the real hard thing.
Cultivating community, compassion, kindness, and humility are unimaginably difficult and require us to be selfless, reflective, and willing to put in the hard work of growing and learning and maturing every day. It’s often a slow, excruciating slog through our own fears and insecurities, and this grueling road will undoubtedly challenge our preconceived ideas about the world and ourselves. It will require us to dig deep and exercise self-control at times when the only thing want to do is lash out. If we truly want to be the kind of people who can do hard things, we will become increasingly aware of our own weaknesses and shortcomings, and be willing to put in the work to become a little bit better every day. We’ll defer to those who know more than us, seek help when needed, admit our mistakes, and practice kindness like an art form.
Mr. Rogers famously told us in times of trouble to “look for the helpers.”
These days, I find myself looking for the kind ones.
My soul longs to be near people who are slow to anger and abounding in love. Who embody peace and joy, who seek good things for the people around them, no matter who they are or what they believe. I know that the people who manifest this level of selflessness have been formed on a crucible of difficulty and suffering, and their hard-won beauty is unmistakable and intoxicating because of it. Oh that I, too, would be a kind one.
Thanks for reading. xoxo - Nicole
EDITED TO ADD:
After receiving feedback from a few individuals, I came to the conclusion that I rushed through the writing of this article and failed to acknowledge that every story is full of complexity and nuance. Specifically, in mentioning Kristi Noem, I neglected to also share that the dog had killed some chickens and attempted to bite her. There were extenuating circumstances that caused her to kill the puppy, just as I’m quite sure the man who assaulted the truck driver in Dubuque did not do so unprovoked. I wasn’t trying to vilify them and I’m sorry if the article came off that way. What I was trying to say, is that I think there is usually an alternative to cruelty, rashness, or violence. Unless Cricket was a blood-thirsty Cujo, she could have been better trained, re-homed, or humanely euthanized. (Ms. Noem is a millionaire, the small fee to put the puppy down would not have been a burden for her.) At the very least, she could have expressed regret about the sad incident and/or compassion for her children who came home after school and wondered where their puppy had gone. Likewise, whatever caused the man in Dubuque to attack the truck driver could have been handled in a much better, kinder way. Clearly, this is a lesson I am still learning myself. Thank you for your patience with me.
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This is an excellent post. I noticed over the last couple of election cycles, many politicians saying they would fight for me. I don’t want a politician to fight for me. I want them to learn a lot about issues and use good judgement when creating policy to solve problems.
I realized a year, or maybe 18 months ago, that something had to change in the way I interacted with the news. I knew the headlines were all trying to trigger a reaction, and it didn't matter; I was triggered anyway. I made a concerted effort to scroll by everything that enraged me, and the algorithm adjusted. I don't even get those things in my Facebook feed anymore. I also protect myself from the news when I need to now. It's amazing, how much of a difference it can make.