Finally, reasonable men

The best of the golden rules

Tim Walz reminds me of the conservatives I grew up around. He is reasonable, a good neighbor; he does what is right, speaks out against nonsense, and is a champion of privacy and women’s rights.

“In Minnesota, we respect our neighbors and the personal choices that they make, even if we wouldn’t make the same choice for ourselves. There is a golden rule: Mind your own damn business!”

With Project 2025 seeking to gut the Department of Education, it feels like a dream to have a former teacher and principal, who is married to a teacher of 29 years, running for VP. I appreciate that Gov. Walz speaks his mind without demonizing others and that his head is not up any leader’s behind. He also understands the squabbling over how to police your neighbor is ineffective at establishing the common good.

It is no secret that I am not a Republican but I am also not a Democrat. Probably because of the way I was raised. North Carolina has an unusual political make-up. 36% of registered voters are Independent (what we call unaffiliated) voters. I remember my parents often voting opposite in elections and hearing the classic “you’re canceling out my vote” conversation. As long as is it wasn’t too personal, we didn’t shy away from a good fight. Hot-headedness runs generations deep on both sides of my ancestry. (Probably because poverty makes people pissed.)

My classmates and neighbors were from various economic, ethnic, and social locations, so it was common to hear arguments about social issues and political policies. Plus, our schools had wonderful economics, social studies, and english teachers¹. We debated in class, wrote persuasive papers on both sides of the argument about issues like abortion and the death penalty, and were taught to love our neighbor.

I didn’t learn that in church. I learned that in public school.

As I reflect back, there was not a lot of Christian influence in my circles—unless we count my friend Amy who liked to tell me, “God don’t like ugly” whenever I’d sass someone in class. I went to church on Sunday but I went alone with my Grandpa’s Aunt to a small, loving community. The hour was precious to me but not the sum total of my family, existence, or community. Still, my moral compass was strong because of my community. And although it did not seem a blessing at the time, I was lucky to center myself in a small town surrounded by good humans. Not perfect, but good people.

Conservatives, Democrats, and Independents were my community growing up. Politics were a part of life, not a driving force, and people seemed to respect opinions and the privacy of the voting box. I recognize that my own social location as a not-well-to-do caucasian female (with little language to discuss the complexity of identities) that I probably missed implicit attitudes and biases that someone from a different location would not. I was tall, thin, and smart. Teachers seemed to favor me. I know now that is not the case for everyone. At the same time, I made friends easily but did not fit neatly into one group, which is an isolating experience and remains true for me.

I still do not feel like I belong; my circles overlap but never align.

My mothering instinct is to cultivate balance for my kids in a world where demigods and ideologies are fighting for their loyalty. I want them to be people of character, with capacity for a warm welcome. People who can live in their bodies, accept reality, and be willing to grow and change. I wonder if somewhere deep inside that desire for balance drove us back to the Southeast, a place where country folks have more in common with black and brown people than rich, liberal people. A place where people will tell you about yourself no matter your social location. A place where neighbors stop by and show up. A place where you do not have to schedule an appointment with a friend three months in advance to spend a little time together. I don’t know yet, but I wonder.

As we come to the end of the mainstream MAGA era (because it will always be there, either renamed or fringe), I am trying to process and name the space between my free-thinking childhood experiences, two decades in faith-based organizations, and what I observe in culture. Why were we capable of productive dialogue? How did we instinctively know how to think about another person’s perspective or position in the world? What is the reason for our foresight and understanding about patterns and people?

That’s Principal Andy Thacker who reminds me a lot of Gov. Walz and that’s me, a head taller than my classmates as a third or fourth grader.

If I can take a little liberty here without you canceling me, religion seems to be the determining factor for tolerance, or lack thereof.

My dad might say, “No $hit, Sherlock.” We were raised to be suspicious of religious people, rich people, and educated people. (Sorry.) In fact, we joked that folks who were “edumucated” thought they were better than us and too smart for their own good. And yes, there is a personal cost to this as well — the discouraging of “getting above your raising” by moving or getting degrees.

Still, when I dove headfirst into Christianity in my twenties in Los Angeles, my family often accused me of being in a cult. I got too self-righteous and judgmental; for a good decade, I forgot where I came from. Sadly, the church is where I learned that as a Christian we must protect the unborn, we must be righteous and pure, we must be above reproach, and we must be loyal to authority even when they are wrong because that is honoring. I was tamed right out of my wildness — what many of my leaders called “tempering” me.

I bought in completely, even though this ethos was antithetical to my upbringing, which was complex, human and primal, sweet, but messy and rebellious.

I bought in as a vulnerable addict in need of healthier mechanisms for control and I wanted a formula to fix my life. So much good came out of that time and I am undoing the harm done. Twenty-one years in recovery taught me that there is no formula, there is only a process, a slow path of healing and redemption. I also learned that loyalty is not a fruit of the Holy Spirit and honor must be rooted in honesty. Thank God, I’ve returned to my roots in the last decade to embrace my humanity and accept others for who they are, where they are, without trying to fix them, save them, or advise them. I’m minding my own damn business and loving with the tender, fierce generosity I was raised on. And in the process of undoing the bad characteristics I learned in church, the differences became so clear to me.

The critical problem we face in American politics is one we have always faced: the enmeshment of Christianity and Conservatism.

Hear what I am saying clearly: As individuals, conservatives are not the problem. Democrats are not the problem. The enmeshment of the religious right and politics is the problem.

Kristin Du Mez

, author of Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation, wrote:

“Christian nationalism—the belief that America is God’s chosen nation and must be defended as such—serves as a powerful predictor of intolerance toward immigrants, racial minorities, and non-Christians.”²

Despite what loud and wrong right-wing pundits and politicians would have you believe, Christians are in every party in America. We are everywhere in society. We represent a diverse, beautiful, meaningful swath of the country. Look at Walz — he’s a Democrat but he represents an era of government where bipartisanship was the norm and he has stuck to that norm. In 2018, he said:

“To the Minnesotans who didn’t vote for me: I will be your governor, just as much as I am for those who supported me. I will reach out to you every step of the way. Together, we can build a better Minnesota for all of us.”

He has a faith but is not trying to crush people who don’t agree with him. He does not name call or demonize others. He’s not legislating policies that he knows make no sense for the common good. This is how government should operate. We pay a crap ton of salaries with our tax dollars. I do not want radical, angry, stubborn, religious people running our country. I am sick of people trying to go viral in committee hearings and saying vile things on Twitter to get a hit of dopamine from their outraged (often Christian) audiences. I am sick of politic rhetoric that takes the Lord’s name in vain.

Political leaders in every party will answer for how they use God’s name to control and manipulate people. Clergy leaders, pastors, and priests will, too. As an American, I believe in the separation of church and state. As a Christian, I believe in loving the Lord, Our God, with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength and loving my neighbor as I love myself.

The gross conflation of legalist Christianity and politics is destructive and harmful, leaving vulnerable children and people under an unbearable societal burden. It is anti-Christ; it is anti-neighbor. Let the church be the church. Let the government be the government. I, for one, am thankful to see a time returning where decorated and elected public servants are returning to the highest office of our land. A former teacher, principal, senator, and Governor with a former lawyer, attorney general, senator, and VP — much preferred over a mentally declining reality tv star and a billionaire-backed, barely-elected Ohio senator.

Finally, reasonable men and women, ready to govern for the common good, not their own good. Between this and the Olympics, I’m feeling joy and pride in my country again. What a fun surprise 2024 is turning out to be…

Now, an ode to Gov. Walz from the Guardian’s collection of clips:

Let’s good men great again.

Love y’all.

1. Shout out to Mrs. Harrington, Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Simmons! You loved me so well and I will never forget stock market candy bars, mispronouncing geyser in class and getting a lecture on ageism, and being forced to consider other people’s perspectives.

2. Du Mez, K. K. (2020). Jesus and John Wayne: how white evangelicals corrupted a faith and fractured a nation. First edition. New York, NY, Liveright Publishing Corporation, a division of W.W. Norton & Company, Inc.