Dem
51
GOP
49
And now, the counterpoint to the previous item. Daryl Davis is pretty well known as a musician, having played with such luminaries as Chuck Berry, B.B. King and Jerry Lee Lewis. However, he's even better known for his civil rights activism, so much so that he was the subject of a documentary, Accidental Courtesy: Daryl Davis, Race and America.
There are lots of civil rights activists, of course, and a fair number of them have been the subject of one or more documentaries. However, Davis' approach to the issue is somewhat unorthodox. Rather than lobbying for legislation, or trying to change hearts and minds on a broad scale, he prefers a laser-focused approach. More specifically, he befriends members of the Ku Klux Klan and works to slowly but surely convince them of the error of their ways.
Needless to say, this is slow and painstaking work. Davis believes he has persuaded more than 200 klansmen to turn the page; he's also been given the robes of at least two dozen KKK members as a token of appreciation for opening their eyes. In addition to his one-on-one work, he also lectures around the country, helping to teach audiences how to reach those who seem unreachable.
It's not a secret that the best (though certainly not guaranteed) means of helping people to overcome prejudices like these is for them to get to know a member of the hated outgroup. It's one thing when Black people or Mexican immigrants or Jews are a nameless, faceless monolith. It's another thing entirely when they start to be individuals with a name and a face and palpable humanity.
As it turns out—and this is now supported by a large academic literature—the techniques used by Davis work particularly well when it comes to anti-LGBTQ prejudice. And that brings us to the story of Justin Nash, who was in the news this week, and who is the primary inspiration for this item. For 40 or so of his years, Nash internalized the anti-LGBTQ messaging of the leaders of his evangelical church. He was no Proud Boy, to be sure, but he was certainly no friend to the LGBTQ community, either.
Over time, between conversations with his son, and with a couple of gay coworkers, Nash began to think that maybe his church did not have the right of it when it came to the evils of homosexuality. So, he re-read his Bible and reached his own conclusions. He also felt badly about a few moments from his past, such as his not-so-friendly behavior towards a high school classmate who came out of the closet.
This past week, Nash was visiting relatives in Denver. And on his arrival in the Mile High City, he happened to learn that Denver's pride parade was scheduled for the next day. Nash decided this was a stellar opportunity to make amends, and so... well, let's just show you the picture that made him into a meme:
According to Nash's count, 76 marchers took him up on his offer.
We often get questions and letters about what is going to happen with the hateful elements in modern American politics, and whether or not the anger and resentment will eventually dissipate. We're not Pollyannas, and so we must concede that many of these folks surely will take (or already have taken) their resentments to the grave. But not all of them will; as the stories of Daryl Davis and Justin Nash demonstrate, in different ways, people can change under the right circumstances.
Have a good weekend, all. (Z)