Questions We Ask After a Tragedy

Last week, a lone gunman killed over 50 people and injured hundreds more at a music festival in Las Vegas. Last year, 49 lives were taken in a shooting at an Orlando night club. In 2012, a shooter attacked Sandy Hook Elementary School, murdering children, teachers, and staff. These are but few of the recent mass shootings that shook our country to its core. The list, unfortunately, could go on.

When these tragedies take place, they impact us on a very deep level. It’s difficult to know how to respond in the face of such horror. But there are some common responses that I’ve observed after such events, and they usually manifest in the form of questions. Questions that we ask ourselves. Questions that we ask each other. Questions that we ask our leaders. Even questions that we ask God. Below are a few of the questions we tend to ask after events like the Las Vegas shooting and some ideas for what I believe to be helpful responses to them.

I think it’s important to note that I’ve never personally been a victim of a mass shooting, nor have I known someone who has lost their life to gun violence. Because of this, I understand that my perspective is limited and potentially less grounded in reality than that of someone who has tragically found themselves closer to these situations. Giving a voice to victims and their loved ones is one of the most important things we can do in the wake of these kinds of events. However, these things do affect the nation and the world as a whole in important ways; in a sense, we are all victims of these acts of violence. Shootings like the one in Las Vegas affect me personally, especially on a psychological level. And so, I feel that my thoughts are founded and have the potential to add value to the conversation, though I acknowledge that my experience is not firsthand.

These are the questions we ask ourselves in the wake of a tragedy.

Who did this?

This begins as a practical question: In order to stop the violence, police must know who is committing it. But once the event is over, this question of who perpetrated it still persists. It almost becomes a public obsession. Often, the name of the shooter isn’t released until officials can gather more information, but that doesn’t stop us from speculating. After last week’s shooting, many people used Google to search for the shooter’s identity, only to find misinformation from a forum that was pointing the finger at the wrong man. This urgent search for someone to blame can be dangerous.

Ultimately, the perpetrator’s identity isn’t the most important question. Yes, it’s natural to wonder who committed the crime and to yearn for justice to be served, but when we focus too much on the question of who did it, we can accidentally give off the message that acts of violence are a means of becoming famous, getting attention, and potentially inspiring others to act in the same way. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. And we want to de-incentivize the carrying out of these atrocities in any way that we can.

Rather than focusing on the offender, we might do well to instead give our attention to the victims, the ones who did no wrong but have been forced to suffer the consequences of another’s actions anyway. These are the people who belong at the front of our minds and on the front of our newspapers. They deserve to be honored; they deserve to be remembered. And in saying their names, we can push back against the violence that took them away from us in the first place.

How could someone do something like this?

Once we know who committed the heinous act, we inevitably try to rationalize it. We want to look into the person’s history to understand what it is about them that led them to do this. We start by looking for the typical narratives: mental illness, radicalization by a terrorist group, a personal vendetta. We think that if we can find some explanation for what happened, then maybe things will make sense. Maybe things things will be OK.

But the truth is that there is no explanation for these tragedies. There is no rationality. Sure, there are influences that might push a person in a certain direction. But the act of taking a human life, much less the lives of many people, is by its very nature senseless. There’s no sense to it, and thus, our search for an explanation is ultimately futile.

And yet, we’ve all done senseless things before, haven’t we (though certainly on a much smaller, less destructive scale)? As much as we hate to think about it, we are each only a certain number of misfortunate steps away from doing something completely irrational. Maybe a better question to ask is, “What stands between me and doing something like this?” Because the truth is that these things do happen. And they are carried out by people, like us.

How could someone do something like this? I don’t know. It makes no sense. But the potential do something terrible is within me, too. And I never want to fail to recognize that fact lest I start down the path to senseless action myself.

What can we do to stop this?

This is the question we spend the most time on, and it feels like every time tragedy strikes, we have to start this conversation over from the beginning. It’s become so tied up with politics and money that we’ve lost sight of the real point of asking this question in the first place. It’s not about figuring out who’s on what team or villainizing those whose approaches are different from our own. It’s not even about personal rights. It’s about putting an end to violence. If that isn’t the purpose of asking this question, then why ask it in the first place?

We have to de-politicize the issue of ending these events. It’s clear from their recurrence and their brutality that what we’ve been doing isn’t working. Something has to change. And yes, at some point that has to play out on a policy level. But if we start the conversation by drawing a line between opposing sides, then we’re never going to make any significant change, and these things are simply going to keep happening while we stand by and twiddle our thumbs. Everyone, from every part of the political spectrum, can agree that we want these acts of violence stop. So let’s start there and work towards making impactful changes that work. We have the same goal; so let’s start accomplishing it today.

Perhaps a complete re-framing of the question is in order. Instead of asking, “How can we stop these things from happening again?” maybe we should be asking, “What have we done that has made these atrocities possible in the first place?” We are responsible for creating a world in which these things can happen, and we are responsible for making the world a place where they don’t happen anymore. How have our views, our rhetoric, and our actions contributed to the mental health crisis, to the rise of radical terrorist organizations, and to the use of deadly weapons against innocents? What are we as individuals and as a society doing to create and worsen these problems, and how can we stop?

Ultimately, we have to ask ourselves, “How can we foster a greater understanding of the sanctity of life in our world today?” The truth is that we have all—regardless of our political leanings or the labels we choose to apply to ourselves—failed on this front. We as a society do not value human life the way that we should, and that is the single biggest contributor to these acts of violence. What if we chose to intentionally treat life as the sacred thing that it is? What if we chose to teach our children to do as well? What if we held each other accountable for treating each and every human being—no matter their race, sex, age, gender, ethnicity, religion, ability, sexual orientation, country of origin, political party, or any other way we categorize one another—as precious, as infinitely valuable, as a sacred living person worthy of respect? Call me an idealist, but I think that the world would be a much less violent place.

How can I help?

These events leave us feeling helpless and alone. But one of the few glimpses of light in the darkness of these tragedies is the way that people find a way to overcome the despair, come together, and work to help those who have been affected. Like Mr. Rogers used to say, when things are bad, look for the helpers. And you have the opportunity to be one of them.

The act of asking, “How can I help?” is brave in and of itself. It’s expression of your willingness to take your focus off of yourself and onto others. It’s a way of saying, “I’m scared, I’m messed up, and I need some help. But I know that there are others who need help more than I do, and I want to be there for them.” The fact that anyone is able to look away from the unbelievable horror in front of them and pay attention to those in need is a true testament to how good people can be.

There are a million different ways any individual can help. Usually, in the immediate vicinity of the attack, medical professionals need donations of blood. So if you’re there or nearby, you have an opportunity to make a huge difference by giving up something you already have more than enough of. Victims and their loved ones may need someone to talk to, or just someone to sit with. Or someone to speak out on their behalf. Or to say their names. Or simply to remember them. And of course, money always goes a long way in these situations when given to the right organization. You can help. You can make a difference. All of you have to do is ask yourself the question, then look around and find some way to get involved.

Why did this happen?

This is the big one, and it’s the one that lingers the longest. It’s the one that keeps you up at night and comes back years later bringing just a twinge of the pain you felt to remind you that you don’t have your answer. It’s the most natural question for someone to ask, and it’s the most difficult one to answer: Why? Why did this terrible thing happen? What is the reason for it all?

When we ask this question, we’re not seeking so much to understand as to find meaning in the tragedy. We don’t want things, especially bad things, to happen without meaning anything. There has to be an ultimate purpose for what happened. Otherwise, it was pointless.

But the truth is that senseless acts of violence don’t have explanations or ultimate purpose behind them. And they don’t have any meaning on their own. They’re simply horrific acts carried out by broken people under the wrong set of circumstances. It’s hard to admit, but all of those deaths and injuries didn’t happen for some greater, cosmic reason.

Still, that doesn’t mean that we can’t find meaning in them. We humans have an incredible capacity for meaning-making. We want things to matter, and so we make them matter by injecting them with purpose in ways that change the way we perceive them and ultimately form us into who we are. This is absolutely incredible, and it‘s what gives us the resilience to press on through tragedy after horrific tragedy.

And so that is what we do. We make meaning out of the most meaningless of acts. In the wake of these events, we find community in the coming together of those we may never have interacted with otherwise. We find inspiration in the stories of the survivors and those who put themselves at risk to rescue others. We find solidarity in mourning with those who have lost loved ones. We find hope when we affirm that the world can be a better place and we commit ourselves to making it so. And we find so much more. These awful circumstances do not give that meaning to us. Instead, we make that meaning despite the circumstances. We make meaning where there is none, and in this way, we bring light to darkest of times.

When awful things happen, they leave us with a lot of questions. Sometimes, we find answers, but more often than not, we find that the answers we seek simply are not out there to be found. Asking these questions and seeking these answers is natural; it’s something we all do. But in the end, it’s not the answers that matter. It’s not even the questions. In the process of the asking and the seeking, we are given the opportunity to honor the victims, to be honest with ourselves, to value life, to give of ourselves to others, and to create meaning where there is none. And I can’t think of a better response to a tragedy—or the inevitable questions that come with it—than that.

On Coexistance

When most people see the symbol above, they have a clear, instant reaction. Whether positive or negative, it’s nearly uncontrollable. Some will agree with the sentiment and say, “Of course we should put our differences aside and learn to peacefully coexist with another.” Others will reply in disgust, “Coexistence and toleration are nothing more than euphemisms for forcing everyone to give up their beliefs and differences!” It’s unfortunate, but the concept of peaceful coexistence has become politicized to the point that it’s polarizing. This should not be so.

Learning to live with and among people who believe differently than we do is a necessary part of contemporary life. Globalization and pluralism have left us in a situation where we no longer have the option of surrounding ourselves exclusively with people who are like us. At work, at school, in our communities, and everywhere in-between, we are surrounded by those who look, act, and think differently than we do. And this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

The truth is that diversity, while it is certainly complicated, is actually beneficial. People from different backgrounds and worldviews offer valuable insights and perspectives that lead to more effective problem-solving. Learning about the experiences of others helps us understand the world more completely. And listening to what other people believe offers us a challenge to truly define and articulate what we ourselves believe. (It also helps protect against the creation of echo chambers and the radicalization that inevitably comes with them.)

And for those of us who follow Christ, living in harmony with others is also a mandate of our faith. In Romans 12.18 (ESV), Paul commands, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” That word “all” is inclusive. It means everyone, even those we disagree with. Even those who we perceive as hostile towards us. If you are a Christian, part of your call as a disciple of Jesus is to do everything within your power to peacefully coexist with others. In fact, our faith compels us to be the leaders in reaching out to others and building bridges where there are none. I think we’ll find that when we live up to our end of this call, most others are happy to meet us in the middle.

But as we all know, humans have an awful track record of peacefully coexisting with one another. We’re naturally tempted to resist diversity and stick with our in-groups. How do we overcome these hurdles and learn to live together? What does coexistence even look like? Here are a few of my thoughts on the matter.

Coexistence means nuance. Black-and-white, us-versus-them thinking simply will not do. The world is full of complex people who find themselves in complicated situations, and rarely are things as simple as we’d like them to be. There are grey areas everywhere. Your neighbor might not agree with you on political or religious matters, but that doesn’t make them a bad person; it doesn’t even necessarily make them wrong. If we want to live in harmony with one another, we must learn to lean in to the nuance, to learn more about the complexities of people and situations rather than simply declaring them good or bad.

It also means empathy. I recently learned that perspective-taking, the practice of imagining an issue or situation from another person’s point-of-view, is a skill that must be acquired and practiced. Being a natural perspective-taker myself, I always assumed that other people were constantly doing so as well. (Ironic, I know.) But the truth is that we are all far too caught up in our own concerns to consistently consider how the world might look to someone else. Extending empathy to another person is the first step towards building a meaningful relationship with them, and only through empathetic understanding will we be able to peacefully coexist with others.

Finally, it means cooperation. Research shows that the best way to foster solidarity among differing groups is to give them a common goal to work towards. And the truth is that we want many of the same things: safe communities, freedom, justice, and for everyone to have enough to get by. We cannot accomplish these great things on our own. We can’t do away with social evils and make the world a better place unless we’re willing to work together with those who are different from us. And once we choose to do so, we’ll find that this practice of living in harmony with one another becomes easier, almost natural, with time.

So those are a few things that are necessary for peaceful coexistence, and they’re all good things. But it’s also important that we acknowledge a few things not required for peaceful coexistence, lest we lose our way or fail to acknowledge the concerns of those who may be hesitant.

Peaceful coexistence does not mean relativism. In fact, it’s based on the universal truth that respectful diversity is superior to isolation and seclusion. Living peacefully with other people does not mean that you have to condone everything that they believe and do. Believe it or not, other people aren’t constantly seeking your approval. They don’t want you to think that they’re right; they simply want you to respect them and their right to believe what they believe. As noted above, living in a diverse context requires a certain toleration for nuance, but nuance and relativism are very different things.

Just as living in harmony with others does not mean you agree with them, it also doesn’t mean have you to give up your own beliefs. The goal isn’t to make everyone the same. Diversity, while messy, is still preferred to uniformity. You can and should hold to your values because they make you who you are. But you must also be willing to accept the rights of others to hold to their distinct values, too. And who knows? As you do life together and share your beliefs with one another, you may find value in aspects of one another’s beliefs, and you may be able to enrich one another in ways that you both would have missed out on otherwise.

Last but not least, peaceful coexistence does not mean homogeny. One group doesn’t get to be in charge and “allow” other groups to exist so long as they stay within the boundaries set by the dominant group. If we really want to peacefully coexist with another, everyone has to get a seat at the table. Again, this isn’t relativism. There are still universal truths and values that must be recognized. (For example, white supremacist Nazis don’t get a say, and we will not apologize for that.) But peaceful coexistence does require that no one group accumulates all the power, no matter how tempting it may be to do so. Every person has value and deserves respect, and trying to minimize a person’s value or input because they are not a part of the dominant group will not lead to a harmonious life together.

Ultimately, the call to peaceful coexistence is a call to humility. There are so many different kinds of people in the world because there is no one right way to be. No one has it all figured out. That’s why we need each other. We need to teach one another. We need to challenge one another. We need to make one another better. And we need to come together to make this world a place where every person can enjoy the good things life has to offer. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. We can choose to do what it takes to coexist. Will you?

BoJack Horseman

Warning: If you are put off by curse words, sexual references, or the portrayal of drug use (alcohol and otherwise) onscreen, this show is not for you. Please do not interpret this review as an endorsement that this show is for everyone. In fact, I endorse that you not watch it if this sort of comedy gives you pause. But if you’re willing to look past the crudeness in order to find the deep truths behind it (or if you’re just into that sort of comedy), read on.

Elevator pitch: A washed-up ‘90s sitcom star resurfaces after years of hiding out in his Hollywood mansion, promising to write a tell-all memoir detailing the “real story” behind his rise to fame and fall from grace. Worn down by years of self-pity and drug abuse, the former star must find the strength to return to normal life, confront the skeletons in his closet, and deal with first-world problems like basic microwave usage. Sounds pretty cookie-cutter, right?

What if I told you the protagonist of the show was an animated horse, and that animated horse is played by none other than Will Arnett? What if I told you that horse’s name was BoJack and that he lived in a world populated by anthropomorphic animals of all kinds? What if I told you BoJack would be joined by such interesting supporting characters as a human author played by Alison Brie, a feline talent agent played by Amy Sedaris, a dim-witted dog played by Paul F. Tompkins, and a free-loader named Todd played by Aaron Paul? Maybe not quite so typical.

BoJack Horseman has been around on Netflix for three years now, and in that time, it’s covered all of the ground you’d expect based on its premise. The first three seasons of the show comprise a ruthless takedown of the toxic world of Hollywood and the celebrities it unceasingly churns out. Through the experiences of BoJack and his friends (if you could call them that), the viewer experiences just how empty and soul-crushing stardom can be. The show is witty, self-aware, and insightful about the state of our world today, especially its obsession with celebrity. In a word, it’s great.

But three seasons of Hollywood analysis is more than enough, and the writers can only show BoJack relapse into his selfish, childish ways so many times before it becomes predictable. And it’s with that in mind that the staff took a completely different approach to season four. Sure, it’s got all of the cynicism, biting humor, and guest star cameos that viewers have come to expect, but it also has something more: This season has a psychological depth that the show has previously flirted with but never been brave enough to venture into fully.

The shift in focus is clear from the very first episode, which doesn’t feature BoJack at all. In fact, BoJack spends much of the season isolated from his friends and, more importantly, his Hollywood career. Instead, he spends his time connecting with his family, which gives the writers ample opportunity to explore BoJack’s psyche and how forces beyond his Hollywood life (already explored thoroughly in previous seasons) have influenced him.

There are a couple of episodes that really stand out as representations of just how deep the writers are willing to go into BoJack’s psychology, as well as the impact this exploration can have on the viewer. Episode 4.02, entitled “The Old Sugarman Place,” features a unique structure that alternates between BoJack’s experience staying at his grandparents’ cabin in 2017 and his mother’s formative moments there as a child. The parallels between BoJack and his mother are stark, and they open the door for the season’s extended but subtle conversation about generational trauma.

Episode 4.06 (which features a title not appropriate for repeating in this article) portrays a day in the life of BoJack from a first-person perspective. Whereas in the past, viewers have simply had to ascertain BoJack’s thoughts and emotions based on his actions, this episode goes so far as to pause the plot, zoom in on his inner monologue, and then return to show his external responses to what’s going on in his head. The result is not only a more sympathetic understanding of BoJack’s point-of-view, but more broadly a glimpse into the life of a person living with clinical anxiety, which I found groundbreaking and extremely valuable.

Of course, the show isn’t just about BoJack. In fact, this season dives deep on every main character. The episodes that center around Todd (4.03, “Hooray! Todd Episode!”) and Princess Caroline (4.09, “Ruthie”) are particularly impactful. The audience has spent over three seasons with these characters, and it’s refreshing to finally get a more nuanced look at their psychological and emotional experiences rather than just their antics.

All of that is not to say that this season doesn’t have its fair share of jokes and cultural criticism. Mr. Peanutbutter’s campaign to become governor of California is a hilarious satire of the contemporary political climate. Episode 4.05 (“Thoughts and Prayers”) temporarily returns the show’s focus back to its roots of making fun of Hollywood. And there are more self-degrading celebrity cameos in this season than any before it. This is still BoJack Horseman, after all.

But the focus on the characters’ inner experiences adds a layer of complexity and insight that the show just hasn’t featured before, and it only adds to its value. It also gives viewers a new reason to pay close attention to the overarching plot of the season. Though previous seasons have featured story arcs, they weren’t of particular importance in light of the show’s comedy and satirical nature. This year, the plot and the character development are tightly interwoven, giving the story an added sense of weight. This is a story worth watching more than once, and not just for the laughs.

All of this bodes well for the future of BoJack Horseman. Netflix has already ordered more episodes, and there’s no way the writers will be able to create a fifth season that’s as groundbreaking and emotionally impactful as this one, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Viewers have seen BoJack go through a lot, and after four seasons, he’s finally starting to show some serious growth. It will be interesting to see how that growth plays out next season when BoJack will seemingly return to Hollywood for another shot at stardom.

Being Sick

I’ve been under the weather for a little while, and it’s left me with time to reflect on what being sick really means. This is what I came up with.

Being sick means discomfort, the aches and pains that let you know something’s wrong. It means disruption of the routine that you cherish so dearly. It means disability that, though temporary and relatively mild, keeps you from doing what you want to do, maybe even what you need to do.

Being sick means frustration with the circumstances and how slowly they seem to change. It means deprivation of some of your favorite things: running outside, dancing to music, creating beautiful things. Worse, it means separation from those you care about the most.

Being sick means suffering, sometimes so intense that you can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. It means pleading for the pain to end, for the fever to break, for the symptoms to go away. It means waiting, spending countless hours lying awake wondering how much longer you can possibly take this before you finally break once and for all.

Being sick means confusion: “Why is this happening to me?” “Am I feeling better or just numb to the pain?” “When is it safe to start acting normal again?” It means impatience, a desire to get back to life the second you start to feel even the slightest bit better. It means self-sabotage, pushing yourself too hard too quickly and inevitably making yourself feel worse than before.

Being sick means sorrow when the illness breaks your will and you begin to mourn the life you once had. It means appreciation for how good you felt when you were healthy, even though you never realized it at the time. It means sympathy for those who live with illness every day and don’t get the privilege of looking forward to health as you do.

Eventually, being sick means relief when the fever breaks, the pain subsides, and you finally begin to feel alive again. It means return to life as it was, maybe at a slightly faster pace to catch up on all that you missed. And it means remembering, committing to never again take your health for granted.

Though, to be honest, you probably will; that is, until you once again feel a tickle in your throat or a knot in your stomach. And then you’ll restart the process and experience again what it means being sick.

The Hate U Give

A story is a powerful thing. I’ve read the studies about racial discrimination and its tragic effects in the past, and they have formed me intellectually. Over the past several years, I’ve accumulated knowledge in an attempt to become informed about the unique struggles of black people in America today. But information can only go so far, and none of that information impacted me as deeply as the story of Starr in The Hate U Give.

The Hate U Give is a young adult novel, the first by author Angie Thomas. The title is based on a Tupac quote that, while insightful, is too explicit to repeat in this article. (Of course, no one is stopping you from looking it up yourself.) After witnessing the string of deaths of black men at the hands of law enforcement in recent history and the public discourse surrounding these incidents, Thomas was inspired to write a story about these kinds of tragedies from an African American perspective.

The book follows Starr, a 16-year-old girl growing up in a poverty-stricken urban neighborhood. As you might expect based on the setting, Starr has had more than her fair share of struggle. A father in prison during the formative years of her life. A childhood best friend killed in a drive-by. And more. But she also experiences a certain amount of privilege, attending an upper-scale private school instead of the neighborhood public school. This duality of experience causes a great deal of cognitive dissonance for Starr, a conflict that comes up a lot in the book.

All of this come to a head one night when she unwittingly becomes the witness of a police shooting. And not just any police shooting, but the killing of her friend at the hand of a white police officer. This is the inciting incident of the story, and the book details the impact of this tragedy on Starr’s development as well as her experience serving as the sole witness to the incident and trying to get justice for her friend.

Though police brutality is the central issue that plays out throughout the book, The Hate U Give touches on so many other aspects of the black experience as well, including safety concerns in poor neighborhoods, the reasons why crime rates are higher among the African American population than others, and the conflict one feels between self-improvement and investing in one's community. The most enlightening issue for me was Starr’s experience of code-switching, feeling compelled to act one way in her black neighborhood and another way at her predominantly white school.

But Starr isn’t just reduced to a stereotype for the sake of some agenda. She’s a dynamic, full-fledged character who learns, grows, and changes throughout the book. Like any other teenager, she deals with school and relationship issues. And fair warning, the book does include some aspects of Starr’s life that some may find objectionable, including a good deal of cursing and some sexual references. All of these details, though, leave the reader with the impression that Starr is a real person whom they can relate to, which is a necessary prerequisite for understanding her experience.

Because the book is basically an introduction to race issues geared towards a young adult audience, it can fall into the trap of over-exposition at times. One chapter in particular, in which Starr and her father discuss his past as a drug dealer and his search for redemption, comes to mind. But these instances are rare, and the story is plenty compelling on its own. To be honest, if a little exposition is what it takes to get readers to empathize with racial minorities, it’s certainly worth it.

The Hate U Give doesn’t present these issues as simple and straightforward, either. Even Starr, the protagonist of the story, has to learn to be less prejudiced as the story progresses, especially when it comes to slut-shaming. And at the risk of sharing spoilers, I’ll say that the story doesn’t have a “happily ever after” ending. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all guide to solving racism.

Instead, it’s an expression of the black experience from a young woman’s perspective that offers readers who’ve never been subjected to such experiences a starting point for empathy. The Hate U Give is a powerful story about the issues and struggles faced by African Americans today, and it has the potential to invite a whole new group of readers to become allies of racial minorities. Reading this book impacted me deeply, and I hope that others will open themselves up to being impacted by it as well. Empathy and understanding are the first steps towards reconciliation, and this could be a powerful tool in starting that process for many.