Measuring for Curtains

THE LEMONADE STAND · OPINION · MAE’S TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT

By Mae Stewart

I live in the liminal place where hope and critical thinking intersect. I used to think it was a temporary threshold before I found where I belong. Now, age has clarified that this is my place, so I’m measuring for curtains.

Everybody likes to say they admire freethinkers until their beliefs are critically examined. My grown sons are living reminders of how inconvenient freethinking is when it shows up at dinner.

I’ve stood just outside many communities of people and desired to be included in their rituals, their conversations, and to have them bring chicken soup when I’m ill. However, historically, the cost mandated my silence regarding the inconsistencies and “circling the wagons” mentality when the inevitable challenges to the group’s biases appeared. And every group has a bias, whether or not that fact sits comfortably with them. I have biases; you should know that.

I homeschooled my three sons in a place and in an era where the homeschool community was dominated by narrow, conservative, fear-based thinking. I can’t do that. My optimism in the face of disaster is one of my most annoying qualities. No, really, hear me out. Nobody likes a can-do-gal when they believe the apocalypse is nigh.

I consider myself a critical thinker, open-minded, authentic, and maybe even delusionally hopeful. Yet, or maybe because of that, I’m told that I’m an agitator, a rule-breaker, chaotic, dangerous to consensus, an unbeliever. My reply to these accusations? “Yes, but…” However, nobody has ever called me a liar or boring. I never claimed to be a diplomat.

When folks believe that their community is threatened, critical thinking is not appreciated; de-escalation is perceived as consorting with the enemy. And me? I can’t drink the Kool-Aid, no matter how much I want to belong. Even when I love the community, I never fall in line.

Our homeschool group had a yearly theater production that was magnificent. My oldest son had a plum part that required saying lines his dad and I deemed offensive. He was cast as a Native American whose depiction was a caricature. Accordingly, we politely declined to participate on principle and swam away to groups with less community but with less performative racism. Still, we ultimately denied our children a place in a community that had much to offer, notwithstanding the racism. It’s frustrating when belonging means going along with a worldview you reject. I would rather accept house arrest like Galileo than accept ignorance over an inconvenient truth.

And as either of my past husbands would vouch, I simply don’t rest if there is something “off.” It always starts with “But that doesn’t make sense,” and then the dissolution of relationships, communities, even marriages, is how it ends. The Alpha and Omega of hope and freethinking.

In hindsight, I still stand in solidarity with the difficult, if isolating, choices, but I still regret what my children missed because of conflicting principles.

I may always inconveniently see inconsistencies in the messaging, and I may always refuse to pay the tithe of conformity for community. Even so, I stay obnoxiously hopeful that my grown sons and I never forget the integrity, autonomy, and safety we purchased for that heavy price.