Skip to main content

Politics 101: Keep your stories straight

I like a good murder mystery, even when you the reader-audience just know things. Like, when there are co-conspirators, co-murderers, there always comes that moment when one of the bad guys breaks. One of them doesn’t stick to the storyline, the agreed to narrative of what happened and when and why and how and where. One of them puts aside the notion that if they all just stick to the “story,” they’ll get off, free as birds.
Keeping your straight is basic stuff for criminals. And politicans. So when Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam couldn’t keep his own story straight, well, it’s no wonder there have been so many calls for his resignation over a med-school yearbook photo in which one person wears blackface and the other a KKK sheet. Here’s the headline of an op-ed that distills this basic point about the power of narrative: “Ralph Northam’s Changing Stories Make No Sense.”

Author Joan Walsh’s subhead reads, “Multiple explanations in 18 hours will not convince Virginians that their governor can be trusted. He must go.” She explains how Northam at first admitted being one of the men in the photo; the next day, he said neither of the men were him. Walsh doesn’t mention Northam’s added detail: that he did once don blackface to portray Michael Jackson. Even without this detail, Walsh says this, “The story keeps getting crazier.”

She threads Northam’s individual story with Virginia’s “story” as a Southern state known for racism, Northam’s gubernatorial victory as one that owed much to massive support from African Americans, his gubernatorial opponent in that race as a “Donald Trump Republican,” the lieutenant governor’s story (the state’s first African American in that position), the inescapable logic (“certainly, one would remember painstakingly donning blackface”),and the various calls for Northam’s resignation. The Virginia Democratic Party, for example, released a statement: “Governor Northam must end this chapter immediately, step down, and let Lt. Gov. Justin Fairfax heal Virginia’s wounds and move us forward.”
In short, Walsh tells a story. More exactly, she constructs a narrative that pulls together pieces of other stories to make her case: “[A]ll of that is why he has go,” she says.
I understand narrativeas the structure that connects individual events or even contains an individual event. I like Abbott’s simple notion of narrative as a “representation of an event or a series of events” (13). Going back to those murderous co-conspirators I mentioned earlier, narrative is the representationof what happened (and when-where-how-why). Keep the stories straight, and there’s a good narrative (at least in crime and politics). Like many readers, I suspect, I agree with Walsh’s conclusion. Surely Northam would remember rubbing on some blackface or pulling a KKK sheet over his head, unless these actions were so common for him and his classmates that he can’t remember on which occasion he did these things, or he’s trying to protect someone else …
And already, I’m trying to create a narrative from Northam’s inability to keep his story straight. In every narrative I can craft for explaining why he can’t, I come back to the trope that those who lie are hiding something. Is Northam hiding what really happened? The real story may yet come out. Meanwhile, Walsh’s arrangement of individual details and stories makes a good case for his resignation.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Queer Time is Filled With Sewing and Dying

“Everyone I knew was dead, dying, or caring for someone who was dying. Our friends died, we made new friends, they died, we made new friends, and they died, and it just went on and on.”  - AIDS Activist Cleve Jones There's this idea that queer folx don't experience time the same way as straight, cis people. In her article " Queer Time: The Alternative to 'Adulting, '"queer novelist and scholar Sarah Jaffe suggested that "Queer lives follow their own temporal logic." As a queer person, I'd have to agree. We've never been given the opportunity to live time like the majority.  How could we when we had to spend so much time sewing quilt squares because we weren't allowed to have funerals? We spent so much time stitching and stitching and stitching our friends' names, our lovers' names, our colleagues' names, and even our own names' into pieces of fabrics.  In 1985, queer activist Cleve Jones came up with ...

No Calling, No Problem

I have no calling in a world where we all wonder what we're meant to do, who we're supposed to be. My mom called me the other day to tell me one of my childhood friends would be moving to my hometown soon because her husband had accepted a job with the Baptist church next door to her Methodist church. I don’t know why she thinks I give a shit about small town gossip or any news that concerns the church seeing as how she’s very aware of how I feel about organized religion. Nevertheless, she has nothing else to tell me because her world is much smaller than mine. “He used to be an airplane pilot,” she says. “Then why is he going to be a youth minister? How will they survive? Where will the money come from?” I ask, appalled. I know from my instagram that his wife is a stay-at-home mom of three. “It doesn’t matter, they’ll figure it out,” she brushes it off. “He has a calling to work for the Lord.” A calling. A goddamn calling. Half of my life, I waited for some fucking ca...

"You don't look like your dad!" Tales of Legal Adoption

"You don't look like your dad. You must be the spitting image of your mother!" or "Your brothers look just like your dad! I bet you take after your momma." I heard these statements a lot growing up. And it's true. I don't look like my dad. And for a while, I didn't really look like my mom. I do now, but that isn't the point. You see, my dad adopted me when I was around six or seven years old. He had been a part of my life, for, well, all of it. When my mother and biological father (sometimes I refer to him as my sperm donor, because I think it's funny, but his name is Chris), got divorced, my dad, Kenny, married my mom resulting in a blended family of me, who was biologically my mom's, and my two brothers, who were biologically his. Suddenly I went from being the only child to being the middle child in a family dynamic that takes a lot of explaining to do. They say divorce and the things I supposedly went through in my early childhood...