The Vacuum Cleaner in the Sky
Teaching fearlessness
Facebook at fifty is a stark reminder of life as it used to be. High school friends keep popping up in my feed, all of us celebrating our fiftieth with familiar hugs, familiar faces and familiar names.
After 25 years on the east coast, always having a reason to miss a high school reunion, it is a reconnection to the old times.
See, I grew up in Salinas, California. I was of a South Asian family with no real South Asian community. (We drove hours to Indian grocery stores.) Coming of age in the late 80’s and early 90’s, life was lived through three presidents and only three television stations. By the time I left Salinas for college, race and culture were shaping more and more of my life. For the most part though, I grew up in a community comfortably numb to the polarization that Patrick Buchanan was seeding – the polarization that is making our differences irreconcilable.
So, while the faces I see are friends, the last couple decades have accentuated our differences. Which I kind of love. Because, these days, it is really hard to grow up, much less live, in a community of differences.
And it isn’t whether you live in a red state or a blue state. Recent research found that most voters of both political parties live in, “partisan bubbles with little exposure to the other party.” In their assessment of hyper local partisan sorting, Harvard researchers discovered, “about 25 million voters — urban Democrats especially — live in residential circles where at most only one in 10 encounters is likely to be with someone from the opposite party.”
These dynamics intensify affective polarization, the tendency for partisans to dislike and distrust those from the other party. Which leads us to prioritize lower risk, more comfortable, ingroup friendships over uncomfortable, higher risk, outgroup relationships. Even if the latter may have greater economic or social benefits.
And in an economy that deepens economic inequality, polarization is a self-fulfilling prophecy. A December 2020 Science Advances study outlined how those who were left behind economically focused on their ingroup, adopting, “risk-averse strategies, which rapidly spread to the whole population, resulting in high levels of polarization.”
While most of us would agree that the country would be a better place if we were less polarized, “Those benefits only manifest once enough individuals adopt the low polarization strategy.” But, “No one has the incentive to make the first move, a key feature of collective action problems.”
The intensity of our ingroup relationships makes it very difficult for one to explore outgroup opportunities, much less friendships. As a result, it feels impossible to act collectively because we don’t trust each other -- because we don’t know each other.
As a new father, hoping my daughter will experience a life of enriching differences, this makes me cranky.
Let’s be honest, though. I am part of the problem since Anisa most likely will grow up in a progressive community. I am comfortable with this decision because these are our values. But I know it comes at a cost for Anisa.
So, how does my interaction with a world that is different – and will always be different – guide my daughter’s? If polarization feeds on fear, how do I teach Anisa to be fearless?
I refuse to be afraid of – or angry at – someone with different values. Nearly all of my best – and most interesting – friends are from completely different backgrounds. Some of them, really, we have no reason to be friends. But, I want to understand who they are, their history, their culture; just as I hope they want to learn about me, my history, culture.
Yes, I realize my fearlessness comes from a unique set of circumstances that my parents afforded me. Their economic situation, my friend group, gave me the confidence to build the sprawling, politically adventurous, network I have.
Whether or not Toya and I can recreate that environment for Anisa in this environment remains to be seen.
But I want Anisa to approach life with a curiosity that comes with difference. Because, in that curiosity comes commonality.
I travel. A lot.
Which means, I believe a ten-day trip should fit neatly into a rollaboard. And, anyone under the age of 14 must sit row in 15 or back. And, there is a whole lot of side-eye to the parent of the little person who bumps me off the free upgrade list.
Well, Anisa’s first flight was last week. She was non-plussed, Toya was in deep planning mode, I was terrified. Because all I knew was that Baby Girl hated the car seat and I could not see how this was going to go well.
So, when we wheeled into SFO, four checked bags deep, and they offered a free upgrade, I jumped all over it. This was a flight where complimentary cocktails could be a lifesaver. Principles are for suckers.
Boarding went off without a hitch. The new sights and sounds kept Anisa completely distracted. The combination of noise cancelling headphones (for Anisa) and well-timed bottles (for both of us), made the first hours easy-peasy.
It turns out an airliner is like a vacuum cleaner of white noise in the sky. Which meant Anisa slept like a champ, Toya was a Jedi-master and I was getting cocky.
“Don’t worry, honey, take a nap,” I gallantly offered. “I’ll change her diaper.”
I couldn’t help but notice Toya’s subtle eyebrow raise as she handed me one baby, one diaper, a package of wipes and the changing pad. Toya’s skepticism blocked from my mind, I strutted up the aisle, representing all of old-man-dad-hood. At my back I felt the look of moms nodding their approval; the awe of fathers; the tears of pride and joy from Toya. I walked extra proud because I also knew that if Anisa smelled fear she would pounce. (Based on above, this was certainly a teaching moment.)
I stepped into the lavatory. Which felt smaller than usual. With one hand, I unlatched the changing table (what did people do before these things?), unfurled the changing pad, positioned the diaper, prepared the wipes.
Anisa’s eyes looked up at me with, “Daddy, you are amazing.”
Then the panic set in. What was I going to find? Did I bring enough diapers? Do I need a change of clothes? What if I lose a sock? As we have discussed, much of my life revolves around what one finds in diapers.
Fortunately, the situation was well within the norm. No major issues. Pretty straightforward job.
Midway through the operation, there was a slight bump. Turbulence. All of a sudden, Anisa was having a great time on the bouncy table in the sky. Not me. The lavatory’s walls were closing in. Diapers were sliding. Socks were slipping. Tiny snaps got tinier. Time slowed down. I was sweating.
Anisa giggled and waved every limb she could discover for the first time at 30,000 feet.
After what seemed like an hour, everything and everyone was put together. I pivoted and unlatched the lavatory door. Expecting to see a line down the aisle. Toya asking the flight attendant if he could open the door to rescue her baby.
Instead, no one. What a relief.
I strutted down the aisle. Expecting a round of applause, approving smiles.
Nothing.
Unbothered and still proud of my accomplishment, I hand Anisa to Toya like I am delivering the Wimbledon trophy.
Mom does a quick scan. Diaper changed? Check. Onesie snapped? Check. Both socks attached to both feet? Check.
Turning Anisa around, Toya smiles that wonderful smile, “Her pants are on inside out.”