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Kimberly Stover

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If I Was an Ant Marching in the GOP Brigade.

If I Was an Ant Marching in the GOP Brigade.

Last updated on: February 3, 2018 at 8:38 pm by Kimberly Stover

If I Was an Ant Marching in the GOP Brigade. 2018-02-03T20:38:33-04:00 Kimberly Stover

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If you’re anything like me, you’ve spent the last two years baffled. Hurt. Frustrated. Angry as hell. America seems to be in a state of blatant insanity. All of us pushed to the point of madness to speak out, no matter the cost. When is enough, enough? We have a president that makes Nixon look like an angel, and yet, still, the parade marches on saluting the empire. What would it be like, I wonder, if I was an ant marching in the GOP brigade?

I would definitely fit in with elite American Christianity. I wouldn’t be hurt listening to mega preachers demonize me. Perhaps I would feel like I ranked high with Jesus Christ and was among the favored, chosen, true believers. Maybe I could sleep at night truly believing that as long as I fight against gay marriage and abortion, I’m on the right side.

I could just turn my eye to the deportation of children who only know this land. I’d feel fine with splitting up families and communities.

I could turn my back to gay suicides.

Perhaps I would feel nothing knowing unarmed black men are being shot and killed by police officers.

As people are sick and dying, I could wave my insurance card in their face while hiding my metaphorical middle fingers in my pockets.

I could give a “mulligan” to a president that has never shown any other behavior but sexist immorality.

He’s “saved” now, right?

Never mind the racist comments. I could forget the degradation of hispanics and ignore the muslim and transgender ban. None of that would bother me, because it would be ok to demonize another because they weren’t born in my shoes. My shoes are more superior, obviously, the Bible says so.

I’d gladly give my tax dollars to build a racist monument. I guess the people on the other side don’t matter. I could forget the times when Jesus Christ called on us to help the foreigner, feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and heal the sick. I might actually believe that the poor are lazy, entitled deadbeats.

My faith would be so little as to believe that sharing my privilege would deplete my own.

It might be nice to not ever have taken seriously when Jesus said “Lay down your sword, those who live by the sword, die by the sword.” Maybe then I could be in love with my AR-15, done an NRA sticker on my ride, and just give my thoughts and prayers to another community in the latest, weekly school shooting. I might be able to fathom a Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who would celebrate adding more nuclear weapons to the world.

Kill them All, “Totally Destroy North Korea”, as Donald Trump would say. I might be able to ignore the fact that innocent people live in North Korea.

If only I could fathom telling a rape victim she’s a murderer for choosing an abortion. I would truly expect her to carry that horrific trauma for the next nine months. No way could I imagine why she would go to the clinic. No way would I give her a hug instead. Stones would be more appropriate. It is what Republican Jesus would do.

However, as much as I try and understand, I don’t. I don’t like republican Jesus, nor could I worship him. I do not hear his voice. I hear the voice of a brown-skinned, middle eastern Jew that came to revolutionize the world with a simple message of loving your neighbor. He called out the hypocrites, flipped tables on the religious leaders of the day, and refused to cast a stone at an adulteress. He worked on the Sabbath, breaking the law. He was killed at the hands of the empire, much like the one we have today.

Jesus wasn’t protected under a constitution, but we are. We can speak. We can choose to follow a different path and refuse the comforts of conformity. We can all truly understand now the love it took for Jesus to cry from the cross “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”

There is still time to leave the brigade, and my hands will forever be reached out, waiting. Extending forgiveness to even to you, Donald Trump, because you know not what you do.

If only I could just walk the line.

If only I could join you in ranking.

But if I did,

I wouldn’t be me, I’d be you.

Another ant in the marching.

I’d disappear into the masses,

lost in the crowd,

silenced among men

with their drums.

Yet I must follow a different beat

of a battle that is already won.

So onward, wandering ants.

You were born for your travels.

Others will soon

leave the line,

And we’ll continue to gain one more.

“And all the little ants are marching
Red and black antennas waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way”

Dave Matthews Band

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