Walt Whitman once wrote, “I hear America singing.”
Were he alive today, Whitman might likely write, “I hear America whining.”
We are a nation of whiners living in the best of times.
Were he alive today, Whitman might likely write, “I hear America whining.”
We are a nation of whiners living in the best of times.
Look around you. Opportunities abound for those with the will and the ambition to pursue them. Our electronic gadgets allow us to wander electronically around the globe. No Americans from Maine to Hawaii are dying from lack of food or shelter, none suffer torture for their political beliefs (except for those of us listening to certain news pundits), none flee as refugees to Mexico. Half the world sees what we have and wants to partake of the feast. Foreign students flock to our universities. Our medical centers offer miraculous cures compared even to fifty years ago.
Why then all the griping? More specifically, why do so many lay claim to victimhood?
A good number of women think of themselves as victims because of their sex, as evidenced in the recent Women’s March, during which many of the protesters wore pink Pussyhats, failing to realize the name and color of their headgear makes them appear ridiculous. They shout out their oppression, yet they have all the freedom of men, take greater advantage of educational opportunities than do men, live longer than men, and can be found in positions of power from international boardrooms to the United States Congress.
How are they victims?
Ditto for people of color. Illegal immigrants claim to be victims, apparently failing to realize that they or their parents broke the law. Some African-Americans still see racism in every corner and decide they are victims of bigotry inherent in the system. Yet everywhere competent people of color are welcomed, indeed sought, by universities, corporations, and manufacturers.
How are they victims?
Other citizens claim to be victims of poverty or debt. Recently, for example, our media have tried to make victims of people, mostly white, living in vast swatches of the rural United States, claiming these people are dying of alcoholism and opioids because of despair. They may be in despair, but that is not why they are dying. No—they are dying because they drink too much booze and swallow too many pills.
Does this critique sound harsh?
Most of the time we make victims of ourselves, and self-pity can be as deadly as any opioid. It’s a roadblock to recovery. Ask any reformed alcoholic. Blaming your troubles on others may feel good, but you’re only making yourself weak, which leads to another dose of self-pity.
Of course, there are victims in our country.
If you were chained to a bed during your childhood and abused daily, then yes, you qualify as a victim. If a stranger stabs you to death in your kitchen, you are a victim. If the plane starts shaking and you are looking at your last few seconds on earth, you are a victim.
But you are not a victim because you are female. You are not a victim because of the color of your skin. You are not a victim solely because of your faith or your sexual orientation. You are not a victim because you spent a hundred grand majoring in film studies and can’t find a job. You are not a victim if you got drunk at a frat party, went home with Billy Bob, tossed each other around in bed, and then decided a month later you were raped.
Let’s stop with the victimhood.
You are not a victim when you take responsibility for your life.
It’s a new year. Why not resolve to throw the word “victim” into the dustbin and start taking individual responsibility for our lives? Why not make this the year when the only finger pointing we do, other than at politicians and celebrities, is aimed at ourselves? Why not stop stirring this crock of falsehoods, look in a mirror, and say, “Hey. There I am. And I am responsible for what I get right and what I get wrong.”
In the opening scene of The Godfather, popular singer Johnny Fontane believes he is a victim of Hollywood. He seeks an audience with the Godfather (Marlon Brando), breaks down and blubbers, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
The Godfather springs to his feet, shakes Fontane, shouts, “You can act like a man!” and slaps him across the face.
That's the ticket, Godfather.
Why then all the griping? More specifically, why do so many lay claim to victimhood?
A good number of women think of themselves as victims because of their sex, as evidenced in the recent Women’s March, during which many of the protesters wore pink Pussyhats, failing to realize the name and color of their headgear makes them appear ridiculous. They shout out their oppression, yet they have all the freedom of men, take greater advantage of educational opportunities than do men, live longer than men, and can be found in positions of power from international boardrooms to the United States Congress.
How are they victims?
Ditto for people of color. Illegal immigrants claim to be victims, apparently failing to realize that they or their parents broke the law. Some African-Americans still see racism in every corner and decide they are victims of bigotry inherent in the system. Yet everywhere competent people of color are welcomed, indeed sought, by universities, corporations, and manufacturers.
How are they victims?
Other citizens claim to be victims of poverty or debt. Recently, for example, our media have tried to make victims of people, mostly white, living in vast swatches of the rural United States, claiming these people are dying of alcoholism and opioids because of despair. They may be in despair, but that is not why they are dying. No—they are dying because they drink too much booze and swallow too many pills.
Does this critique sound harsh?
Most of the time we make victims of ourselves, and self-pity can be as deadly as any opioid. It’s a roadblock to recovery. Ask any reformed alcoholic. Blaming your troubles on others may feel good, but you’re only making yourself weak, which leads to another dose of self-pity.
Of course, there are victims in our country.
If you were chained to a bed during your childhood and abused daily, then yes, you qualify as a victim. If a stranger stabs you to death in your kitchen, you are a victim. If the plane starts shaking and you are looking at your last few seconds on earth, you are a victim.
But you are not a victim because you are female. You are not a victim because of the color of your skin. You are not a victim solely because of your faith or your sexual orientation. You are not a victim because you spent a hundred grand majoring in film studies and can’t find a job. You are not a victim if you got drunk at a frat party, went home with Billy Bob, tossed each other around in bed, and then decided a month later you were raped.
Let’s stop with the victimhood.
You are not a victim when you take responsibility for your life.
It’s a new year. Why not resolve to throw the word “victim” into the dustbin and start taking individual responsibility for our lives? Why not make this the year when the only finger pointing we do, other than at politicians and celebrities, is aimed at ourselves? Why not stop stirring this crock of falsehoods, look in a mirror, and say, “Hey. There I am. And I am responsible for what I get right and what I get wrong.”
In the opening scene of The Godfather, popular singer Johnny Fontane believes he is a victim of Hollywood. He seeks an audience with the Godfather (Marlon Brando), breaks down and blubbers, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”
The Godfather springs to his feet, shakes Fontane, shouts, “You can act like a man!” and slaps him across the face.
That's the ticket, Godfather.
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