Episode Transcript
[00:00:08] Speaker A: Welcome, dear Patreons, to the inaugural, temporarily paywalled continuation of the main feed interview of Episode one y' allidarity with hillbilly hymn writer Nathan Evans Fox. I'm super grateful for your support and I hope this project brings some joy and hope and utility to your ears, your works and days. And I also humbly ask that you share the main feed episodes around as well. My plan for these Part twos is to review and reflect a little beforehand on what I learned in the first part, and then roll the rest of the conversation, but then return with some further reflections.
One of the advantages of parceling these out is that it gives me time for a little bit more digestion, and I'm happy to say that I'm working far enough ahead with these conversations that I'm also able to reflect and make connections and think forward a little about what things mean.
So you all heard Part one, I think I spoke with Nathan about Kinship Appalachia, his viral hit hillbilly hymn, the concept of Yaleidarity which he roots enjoy food, music and taking care of one another.
He talked about the myths and realities of Appalachia as the Eden of American mythos, the erasure of its labor history, and the dangers of J.D. vance's maudlin profiteering off of poverty trauma to sell his bootstrap individualism.
But he also talked about growing up speaking in tongues in independent charismatic church movements, and he knows how easily that energy can be co opted by fascism. But he also talked about how that shared joy and expressiveness nurtured resilience.
Now in Part two we dig further into the hymn verse by verse. So let's go ahead and do that, because where we last left off we were talking about food and now we get into housework. But then we also end up talking about some intergenerational impacts of fascism and trauma down through our families. Oh, and I just want to say that for an anti fascist dad podcast, we do get a little bit nerdy on religion in these episodes, but that won't always be the norm. Like I decided a long time ago that I wanted Nathan up first in the rotation because he's such a great role model I feel, and so friendly and relaxed. But I realized in producing this last week that some listeners might think they're going to hear about Jesus all the time on this podcast, but I promise you won't.
Next week we have Sarah Racik and then Ben Case after that, and then Sarah Stein, Lubrano, all of them antifascist, none of them Jesus. People at all.
[00:03:01] Speaker B: Does Jesus make the men clear the table or do they want to do it because Jesus is around?
[00:03:08] Speaker C: Oh, I don't care.
[00:03:11] Speaker B: So long as the men clear the table.
[00:03:12] Speaker C: So long as they clear it. Yeah, it's a little bit like.
It's a little bit like when your grandma says to do something.
You love her and you fear her and you're like, okay, yeah, I'll do whatever you say.
And it doesn't matter if I like it or not, because I like you at the end of the day.
[00:03:32] Speaker B: Right.
[00:03:32] Speaker C: And you're not wrong.
[00:03:34] Speaker B: You have this really deeply theological line, I would say, about how he's probably come a time or two and they've probably killed him. Like, they tend to do.
So why does he keep coming, Nathan?
[00:03:53] Speaker C: Why did he get here in the first place? I don't know.
I think. I mean, honestly, I think a lot of the impulse of that line is that it's funny. Like, there's some people online who are like, keep waiting for your God to come. And I'm like, that's not. Did you hear anything I said? Like, I gave you. I tipped my hand in that line and in the last verse that, like, this isn't about. This isn't about passively hoping. This is about creating the conditions for the things that we say, we hope for.
[00:04:24] Speaker B: It's such a weird challenge too, because I think with you and your two mates standing in the forest singing, that it's obvious that you're not talking about the future.
Like, the whole refrain is when the Lord comes back. But it's like, that's. That's a trick.
[00:04:43] Speaker C: It's. Yes. Yeah, it is. It's just. It's a screen that I can project everything onto about. About, like what I desire for. For right now and what I'm. I'm committing my desires to.
Yeah, I mean, I. I think. I also think it's important to point to like. Like there's. This is kind of an over determined line for me. I think it's also important to point to like in, in Western. Now see, I got. This is where, like, I've got. I've got my theological background because I should have gone to therapy, but instead went to seminary for a little bit and I got student debt for it.
In Western Christianity, the emphasis has been placed on crucifixion, which has become in many gross ways an emphasis on redemptive suffering. And what God did in sending Jesus to earth was killed. Killed God's son, which is a gross paradigm. And you can see how Gross things were enabled by that.
In more orthodox Christianities, the Incarnation was enough. The fact that God simply was born from a woman into humanity was the redemptive act.
And so that recontextualizes for me. Now, I don't think the orthodox would go this far, but that recontextualizes for me what the crucifixion is, which is that this world is full of empires who will give people like Jesus a traitor's death.
And so it's reminding people that, like, the crucifixion is not what is redemptive.
And the crucifixions happen on this earth. And so we have a responsibility to not let crucifixions happen again. And I think a lot of people in Western Christianity will valorize violence because they'll believe that it's redemptive, they'll valorize crucifixion, but they don't make space for incarnation. And they don't feel this kind of sense of responsibility for ending the things that crucified their Lord, the things that were. And you know, the other thing is, like, if Jesus was just crucified, that's not enough.
He had to come back to beat, to show that that Roman crucifixion didn't get the final say. Like, that's the narrative. That's the narrative meaning is that something had to outlast and overpower the violence of the state and the violence of empires.
And so it's the resurrection that redeemed the crucifixion, not the crucifixion itself. And it's the Incarnation, Jesus simply showing up that matters in Christian theology. And so part of it is just changing the emphasis and expressing, like, I like this world is violent, and it's on us to end that violence.
[00:07:31] Speaker B: You know, in facing it down. There's one last line that I want to read back to you, because it's about how to preserve yourself when you're responding or resisting. You say, when the Lord comes back, you're not going to have to be mean. You're not going to have to act mean to be treated fair. And what I got from. From that was that it is exhausting and it perhaps wounds the soul over time to have to fight injustice. Is that part of what you're getting at?
[00:08:03] Speaker C: Yeah, and I think there's also, you know, I like, I come from hillbillies, and we are the same thing that makes us the most generous people, also makes us the meanest people. Like that same. It's the same muscle and.
And it's because, like, you. Sometimes you have to be mean just to survive. And you have to be mean not even just to cure injustice, but just.
[00:08:26] Speaker B: To, like, get by.
[00:08:28] Speaker C: Just to get by. And that is not a function, once again, of the individual. That's a function of the kind of society that says, like, you have to compete to eat and like, and creates these hierarchies that don't need to exist when there's plenty enough food for everybody, there's plenty enough housing for everyone.
And it. But it just doesn't make anybody a prophet to do that.
And so it's about thinking about, like, for example, like, what if my grandmother never had to be mean a day in her life? Like, wouldn't that be Jubilee? Wouldn't that be freedom? Wouldn't. Like, doesn't she deserve the peace of mind of never having to. To. To choose to compromise parts of her integrity in order to secure the survival of her and her family? And I don't judge her for any of that. I want to be very, very quick. I don't judge her for any of that. But that's like, that's what it took. There's a kind of moral compromise that's. That's required to, to live in these like, hyper capitalist competitive societies.
[00:09:27] Speaker B: I think I made an initial sort of foray into understanding that when I realized the impact that, you know, my grandfather's alcoholism, for example, returning from fighting Nazis in Italy and France, the impact that that had down the line through my mother.
And it took me, you know, there's a psychological stage there where I understand the conditions under which, you know, certain attitudes around, you know, how we should be or how we must get ahead or, you know, how the straight and narrow is the only path to go. There's certain attitudes that are instilled and that I can understand first, or I understood first on a psychological level. But then there's this other layer of, you know, she's also operating within a capitalist system that is giving her all of the same messages that's actually compounding all of the personal stories as well.
[00:10:25] Speaker C: Yeah, this is.
If I could be a little self promotional. Yeah, a lot of my. So I've got a record coming out in May titled Heirloom. It's about becoming a dad and losing a dad at the same time.
[00:10:37] Speaker B: That's great.
[00:10:38] Speaker C: And, you know, I grew up on family land next to. It's like my mom always a big part of my life because she was kind of like my third parent. She was just up the pasture from us and she was the meanest and most generous person I've ever met.
And you know, my granddad, he fought on the Pacific front and he fought in Korea. And the experience that we had and that I have two generations or a generation removed from that I still experienced so many of the costs of my grandfather going and fighting that war for Uncle Sam going in and the kind of family system of Uncle Sam and our family.
And I say in that, you know, in so much of the record, but I say in the record, like all the war, all that war and work comes home every time. Like, I think one of the greatest myths is that all these things that happen politically don't end up sorting themselves out in our private lives, but they do.
And we carry the costs of, of forever wars. We carry the costs of forever work in our families and like in our. It gets passed on to our kids. And so, so much of what I feel like as a parent and part of what that records about, frankly, is about trying to exercise the demons that Uncle Sam left in our family, the demons of war and of working, of power.
So I'm with you on that.
And also it's good to fight Nazis, don't get me wrong.
[00:12:09] Speaker B: But yeah, there's no choice there. Yeah, I really appreciate that.
Grandmother is the meanest and most generous at the same time, in some psychological frameworks, that creates a lot of disorganization, creates a lot of chaos. But it sounds like you were able to come through that, see that both of those instincts were coming from the same place and they both embody a kind of care part of, part of.
[00:12:43] Speaker C: Like hillbilly culture, part of country music culture.
And some of this has also been really abused recently with the full on commodification of country music.
[00:12:53] Speaker B: Oh my God, it's so bad.
[00:12:55] Speaker C: It's bad.
[00:12:56] Speaker B: It's so bad.
The funny thing is just to go.
[00:13:00] Speaker A: Off the rails a little bit here.
[00:13:01] Speaker B: But like it sounds, I. I think probably 10, 15 years ago, maybe started earlier. It sounds like that was the debut of AI actually.
[00:13:13] Speaker A: I know.
[00:13:13] Speaker B: Like it did. They didn't have the technology, but somehow they like chat GPT themselves into their 10 gallon hats and like that was it.
[00:13:21] Speaker C: Yeah, well, that, I mean, yeah, I've got. I. Country music has always been a commercial genre.
I'm fine with that because I'm also. It's the same thing to me as the, as the gas station honey bun. Like I can say, like I love it and I know what it is and it doesn't have to be my mess of Beans. But it can be my Honey bun.
[00:13:42] Speaker B: Right.
[00:13:43] Speaker C: Which even sounds like a weird country song.
[00:13:46] Speaker B: Oh, so that's in that line too, is that you're talking about something that's homemade and then you're talking about something that's like pop.
[00:13:51] Speaker C: Yeah. Like, we get, like, we get it all. Like we get our treats too. Like we don't have to be austere and serious. Like we get to enjoy.
[00:13:58] Speaker B: Got it.
[00:13:58] Speaker C: We get to enjoy stupid things because they're fun. Yeah. Um, yeah, but like, yeah, country music has gone. It's always been commercial but. But you know, after. I mean, we've. It's a worn out topic. But after 9 11, it. It lost all of its working class affinity and it was just white nationalism. And ever since then it has had nothing to lean on. So it's just like, here's a. Here's a list of things you can buy at. At a, at a Bass Pro Shops.
[00:14:26] Speaker B: You've got a record coming out and it's partly. I mean, people are going to hear it partly on the strength of this song that has really caught fire. And the last question I wanted to ask was just sort of on an artistic level. Like, I imagine it's kind of a mystery to write a song that means so much to so many people. I don't think that was your primary goal. Like, I don't think it ever can be. Right. Like, you're not going to expect that. You sit down and write out those verses and like, yeah, people are going to be weeping to you and your DMs, and somehow you got to take responsibility for that or distance yourself or whatever.
I mean, that is strange, right?
[00:15:09] Speaker C: It's been surreal. Yeah. Yeah. I, like, it's. I had to catch up to. To that dynamic with this song because I just.
I just kind of like wrote that very. That first little bit very quickly.
[00:15:22] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:15:23] Speaker C: And it caught legs online. Like I, I just didn't expect.
And so I was like, well, I guess I have to finish this. Almost as just a business decision. Like people are liking something I'm doing.
[00:15:33] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:15:34] Speaker C: I got to see it through. Like, I owe it to myself. I've been making music long enough to be like, I don't feel, you know, I don't feel like grossed out by doing this. This feels sincere to me, but it doesn't feel like the thing that I've cared about most as a musician is not my, like my pet song.
[00:15:48] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:15:50] Speaker C: And then having people respond so strongly to it, like, made me really take a minute that I'm Honestly, like, I get really emotional thinking about how grateful I am for it.
That song felt to me like the easiest song I've ever written, just in the moment. And also, I had to realize that what people were responding to in it was not the facility I have with articulating that stuff after years and years and years of sorting through my religion, my religious heritage, my very real religious trauma. That word is overused a lot. And let me tell you, I joined a cult at 17. I got real. I got real mess. Yeah.
[00:16:30] Speaker B: You and me both. Not 17, though. Like, I was a little bit older.
[00:16:34] Speaker C: I mean, there's never a good age to do it.
[00:16:36] Speaker A: No.
[00:16:36] Speaker C: At least I can say I was a kid, you know? Yeah.
[00:16:39] Speaker B: Good. I'm glad.
[00:16:40] Speaker C: Yeah, that's good.
But, like, I realized that, like, while that was the easiest song I've written in the moment, that was probably the hardest song I've ever written across my life.
And that's what people were, I think, responding to. And that made me really grateful because I. Because I don't like to get bogged down in the kind of navel gazing of, like, well, I've done this and that and the other. Like, I. It doesn't do much good.
[00:17:05] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:17:06] Speaker C: But every once in a while, it's good to sit, to have somebody recognize, like, a win. And I think for me, like, I've done a lot of work across my life. Like, religion has been probably the main orienting thing in my life for good and for a lot of bad and for people to respond to. That was just like, I have done a lot of work. Like, it has been 35 years of work to make that song that feels so genuine, because it is. I didn't say any lies in it. I wasn't selling slop. Like, it was a little campy, you know, but, like, there was no part of it that I wouldn't stand on.
[00:17:44] Speaker A: Yeah.
[00:17:44] Speaker C: And I earned every line in it, even if it came that easily. And the fact that it came that easily, whereas a lot of other songs don't, says, like, I've really. I've processed.
[00:17:53] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:17:54] Speaker C: And I feel like in a way, and, you know, it's not all about me. Right. Like, I'm. I'm so glad that it's taken off with other people.
But I'm really appreciative of the gift that I got in people receiving that song because kind of like affirmed it was affirming for me to be like, I think I have done some healing and some moving on and some sorting through things that Isn't just kind of.
That's like, that's real, that's like, got some real, real meat to it.
[00:18:19] Speaker B: I got asked two other questions then about the song. Like, you said that there was a first little bit that you started with. Maybe I didn't catch that. But did you, did, did you start with okra and cigarettes or did that come at the end?
[00:18:30] Speaker C: That came at the end. I'm such an okra nerd. I mean, it's not even funny. I love okra to death.
So I, yeah, like, there was a, there's a little snippet. Like I was, I was honestly, I'd had a, I'd had a couple shows and I was hanging out with my toddler before she was in daycare. I was like, I just haven't written any songs. I've been playing out, I haven't been writing. I just kind of like want a noodle on guitar and just check back in.
And so I was new on guitar for like 10 minutes and I wrote the first two verses and they were very like, it was like more of a two step, like that, that kind of thing.
[00:19:04] Speaker A: Yeah.
[00:19:06] Speaker C: And then she, and then my kid was just like, no dad, dad, no guitar. And just like ripped it out of my hand. And I was like, okay, but I've got like two little verses. And I was like, I'll just post it online as like. I was like, It'll get probably 300 likes. It won't get 40,000. Right.
But I was like, I'll post it online and it'll be a little thing. And the other thing is it's cool to see, like, if I should keep chasing it down.
And that was this video where I was just like tying my boots. I was literally tying my boots to go out the door. And I just kind of sang it then.
And that took off and got like 40,000 likes.
And so then I was like, well, I've got to finish writing this. And so as I was like getting food ready for my kid and all this stuff, I was kind of just piddling around the house and I would kind of work up the next little verse here and there.
[00:19:48] Speaker B: She was also telling you it should be a cappella.
[00:19:51] Speaker C: That's right. Yeah, she knew. Yeah, she knew. She's my producer now. She gives me creative notes.
[00:19:57] Speaker B: And then you go into the studio and record it and it's like, it does sound like there's a little bit of snake handling going on.
[00:20:05] Speaker C: Yeah. Thank you. I, I, I had like a really.
I just wanted it to feel so I wanted to feel like a field recording.
[00:20:14] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:20:14] Speaker C: Of. Of a lot of the churches I've been in. It does, like. I want it to feel.
Not nostalgic, but I want it to feel like it's in a place where, like, there's a water strain, a water stain, drop. Ceiling.
[00:20:28] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:20:28] Speaker C: And you're. You're on. Like you're in a warehouse or a gas station, kind of off the back roads, or you're in a hotel conference room and some like, tiny little town.
[00:20:37] Speaker B: Yeah.
[00:20:38] Speaker C: Because that's what. That's what it is to me. And I. And I. I kind of lobbed it up there. I was like, this is super vernacular, but I got to think that if people are responding to the song, they will also know what it is to be in those. In that space. And my. Everybody might not get it, but the ones that get it, I think will appreciate it. Because I've been looking for it. I've been looking for somebody that knows those spaces to.
To have to do something that I can. I can feel a little bit at home and a little familiar with.
[00:21:04] Speaker A: Okay.
[00:21:05] Speaker B: So, last thing is, this song comes together after 35 years, but also a whole network of connections. And it comes together because you're also responding to the mystery of how people are hearing it. And you realize you're going to keep going with it. There's a lot of mysteries going on in there, and that's not going to come together very often for very many people.
But I know that there's going to be a lot of young songwriters or people who love music out there who want to fill the world with hope. And so I just wanted to end with what your best advice would be for, you know, that that kid who's 14 or 15 years old and.
And dreaming on the guitar or the piano.
[00:21:54] Speaker C: Keep at it.
It's. It's hard, but it's. I mean, it's. It's just work. And you gotta. You gotta put in your work and remember that all of.
All of that feeling that you have might not have a home yet.
So find the places that help it make sense and then go. Then go say that. And you're not going to find that in the manosphere. You're not going to find that in your whiteness. You're going to find that in community. You're going to find that in accountability.
You're going to find that in anti fascism and anti imperialism.
And you've got it. You've got it all right here in your body because you live here. And all you got to do is just make sure that things grow from your roots.
[00:22:34] Speaker B: Nathan, thank you so much for the interview and the song, and I can't wait to hear your record.
[00:22:41] Speaker C: Thank you. It's been a pleasure talking.
[00:22:43] Speaker B: It's a pleasure to meet you.
[00:22:44] Speaker C: Likewise.
[00:22:49] Speaker A: You know, as much as I love the international and global connections I make through various projects, I always have this tinge of melancholia when I make such a good connection with someone so far away.
Like, I hope that one day I'll be able to share pinto beans and Chow Chow and honey buns with Nathan. Maybe even. Gosh, it would be great if I could pick up piano again and we could play together. You know, maybe in Nashville, where he is now, or back in the mountains where he's from.
What stuck with me most from this meeting was Nathan's understanding of his grandmother.
You know, it's clear that his instincts towards Southern culture and his memories of charismatic church experience show that, you know, he aims to heal the places that he's come from, or at least heal them within himself by piecing together the best of what they offered.
Now, I don't know what to call that other than acts of faith.
If you look beyond the big trucks and listen past the talk radio yahoos, you can hear a banjo in the woods, people gathering for a meal in this spirit of welcome and renewal.
But when it gets personal, when you know someone close to you who gives you joy and support, but who can't give that all the time, or even they go through times of scaring you or withholding care, how will you come to understand that and come to terms with it?
I think this is a crucial question for all of us as we counter fascism, because I think we have to accept that when people fail each other, it hurts. And sometimes we have to cut bait. But if it's possible, I think there's strength to be gained from recognizing the sometimes impersonal nature of meanness or emotional hardness that might allow us to stick together when we need it.
The way Nathan said it was, I come from hillbillies. And the same thing that makes us the most generous people also makes us the meanest people. It's the same muscle, and it's because you sometimes have to be mean just to survive. And you have to be mean not even just to cure injustice, but just to get by.
And that's not a function of the individual. That's a function of the kind of society that says you have to compete to eat and that creates these hierarchies that don't need to exist when there's plenty enough food for everybody, there's plenty enough housing for everyone.
But it just doesn't make anybody a prophet to do that, to do that sharing around. And so it's about thinking about, for example, what if my grandmother never had to be mean in a day in her life?
And, you know, whatever Nathan remembered about her meanness, he zoomed out from to be able to imagine why it was there, that it wasn't necessarily hers any more than the white supremacy truly belongs to the guy who thinks that racism will protect him and who's wrong. It was something extra, something taught.
And this made me think of my mom, who I brought up in the episode. But I want to say a little bit more about here. She died in December of 2020, in that first year of the pandemic.
She was a force of nature, unstoppably creative, passionate union rep for her fellow high school teachers. She was funny, gregarious, endlessly networked with friends like a real hub, social activity and connection.
And maybe you can hear me starting to say, but also, and here it comes.
I wrote about my mom in Antifascist dad for two reasons.
In fact, she's in the dedication, so the dedication says, this book is dedicated to my partner, Alex. I hope it can honor your insight, love and labor. To our two sons who teach me about time, courage, and the trouble and joy of creating new worlds with whatever is at hand. To all anti fascist families and circles of care.
To my father, David, a veteran and historian who gave me a yearning for justice and helped me learn how to think. And then it says, to the memory of my grandfather Robert, who survived his war against the Nazis, and my mother Jill, who survived what that war did to him.
So early in the book, I do this pretty brutal takedown of Jordan Peterson's politics of cruelty and transphobia.
So he's one of the fashy dads that I'm lashing out at.
But as I was writing that section, I had this sense that some of his, you know, ethos of discipline yourself against the chaos of life sounded familiar to me.
Like, why did I have this feeling that I knew it would resonate with some people?
It didn't take me long to come up with the answer.
Peterson is appealing, I think in part because he's speaking to a type of survivorship from another era.
He makes sense to those who have learned to stiffen up and to muscle through hard times.
And my mom had a lot of that holding things together.
And the thing she had to defend herself from was the legacy of fascism as it came through the broken life of her father, who was a Canadian war vet.
But unlike Peterson, she never turned that pain on the vulnerable. She always punched up. And so that's what I wrote about in that same vein that Nathan tapped into, where you recognize that a kind of generosity but also ferocity come from the same muscle.
So I'm going to close out this first Patreon episode by reading from that and maybe stopping a few times to comment.
My late mom, who I loved very much, was like Peterson, from a small and moderately conservative Canadian city.
But she went out of her way to learn about and enjoy different ways of being in the world.
She loved our big city of Toronto because it's vibrant with a carnival of different cultures.
The city gave her a fresh start away from her childhood home.
Her father, a veteran of the war against Hitler, was a traumatized alcoholic.
Now, my mother would have despised Peterson's politics. She would have hated his manner of speaking, his bluster and self certainty, his bullying.
He would have reminded her of all of the smug, dominating men who infantilized her when she worked as a high school teacher and all of the smarmy conservative politicians who were always trying to screw the teachers union and all the blowhard priests at church. She had an acute radar for aggressive men.
But she also would have resonated with many of Peterson's psychological ideas, especially around self reliance.
Because whenever I expressed stress or pain, my mom didn't spend much time holding it and empathizing.
Her instinct was to quickly move towards encouraging me to literally stand up straight with my shoulders back.
And I don't fault her instincts.
In response to my grandfather's alcoholic chaos, she lived her life on high alert.
And I believe that when she saw me in pain, it triggered many things inside her, including the memory of her younger brother.
Now, my uncle Michael was a gentle guy who collected bottle caps and memorized whole monologues from Shakespeare. I'm betting he was neurodiverse and never had his support needs met.
So between the low cultural understanding of these things at the time and my grandfather's dysfunction, Michael didn't have much of a chance at being understood.
Michael also suffered from drug addiction for much of his life, which I believe began as a way for him to escape stress.
So when I got stressed or upset, I believe my mother remembered her own childhood suffering and how she had to buck up and get on with it.
And she wasn't about to let me do otherwise or become like Michael.
I believe my Mother worried that if she indulged my tears too much, her own forward speed in life would have to slow down.
And if I would not excel in the same ways she wanted me to, things might fall apart.
She had seen too many things fall apart.
Through it all, she had come to be educated, to gain a good job, a middle class home. She had artistic pursuits. And she had a circle of friends who adored her good humor and creativity and how hard she fought for justice for herself and her fellow workers. As an ardent unionist, understandably, her personality and survival seemed to depend on a constant defense of who she had made herself to be in order to feel dignified and confident. Edit understandably, her personality and survival seemed to depend on a constant defense of who she had made herself to be in order to feel dignified and confident.
That meant not letting me feel or appear weak.
When people feel these complex tensions, it's hard for them not to spread them around and make them everyone's concern.
Because if they can share their anxieties with others, maybe they won't feel so alone. So the more vulnerable they feel, the stronger this tendency might be.
One of the ways my mother did this was to counsel me on how to be stricter with my own sons so that they wouldn't lose their way, whatever that meant.
She wanted me to push them to do more, to behave better, to enjoy all the things she wanted them to enjoy.
And for the most part, this felt maybe annoying, but also normal.
But when she felt vulnerable, her anxieties about the boys rose.
About two weeks before she died, she phoned me in the middle of the night from the hospital.
She was disoriented.
I knew she was on morphine for pain.
Listen to me. I have to tell you something important.
So I held my breath because I thought, here it comes.
This is the last thing that she wants me to know.
Those boys of yours, mark my words, you have to come down on them like a ton of bricks or else bad things will happen to. Do you understand me?
I understand what you're saying, Mom.
I was stunned, but also not surprised.
She was at the end of her life and these were her words of wisdom.
She didn't call to say she was proud or grateful or that she loved me. She wanted to make sure I told my boys to stand up straight, with their shoulders back, and if they did, things might be okay.
So I was saddened by the call until I realized that in her way, she was sharing the strongest form of love and protection. She knew.
And a week later, while my dad and I cared for her at home in her final days, she did let herself be vulnerable. She expressed gratitude and love, and she felt an ocean of relief when I bathed her burning hands and feet in ice water.
Now it's taken me a long time to move beyond my mother's anxiety, to discover that every moment is not a potential disaster and that I didn't have to spend so much energy standing up straight and pretending I was okay.
It took me a long time to learn there were places in the world I could safely collapse and that there were people in the world who would not judge me if I did.
And I believe there was a part of my mother who wanted to be like that herself, who wanted to provide me with a space she never had. I believe she found that hard.
And I love her all the more now that she's gone, because I know how hard she was trying.
My mother had a human and common response to trauma, and she turned her hypervigilance into a kind of armor that she wanted me to wear because she thought it would protect me and my sons.
There were things in her life that had scared her to the bone, and she got tough in response.
And she wasn't alone among the women of her generation. Many mothers at that time, perhaps sharing similar experiences to her own, were led to believe that telling their sons to suck it up and be brave was the way to go.
But what I admire most about my mother, that she didn't turn this personal and cultural instinct, this need to be tough, into a politics of resentment and hatred.
She did not fall for the Peterson Khan because she never lost her sense of justice.
On a very deep level, she knew that what happened to her father was not his fault and that her brother was not to blame, and that we all need much more than anxious, imperious, paternalistic advice about standing up straight.
But who knows where we can find that extra help?
If she had defaulted to the Peterson Kahn, I wouldn't be writing a book about anti fascism. I wouldn't be doing this podcast.
I would not have recognized that her deathbed advice that I should be hard on my sons was an expression of her survivorship, her fear that they might repeat a pattern.
And if it weren't for the rest of her kindness and her own rebellions against misogyny and capitalism, I might have mistaken her anxious advice for wisdom.
My mother carried a deep trauma rooted in the chaos of her father's encounter with his war against Nazis, and that had a rigid influence on me.
But somehow, she also maintained a spring of love within her that kept me soft.
I consider myself lucky to have come from someone who struggled with a fire like that.
I think about her every night before I sleep.
Hey. That's it for today. Peace and courage to you and yours, Ra.
