The Price of Kindness

Spoiler alert: It's free.

Oct 09, 2022

This meme popped up in my Facebook memories a few days ago. Judging by its content—and the date it was posted (Oct. 6, 2016) —it was most likely a response to the heavy ick I was feeling about the divisive rhetoric of the 2016 presidential campaign.

In all honesty, I’d never really been fully invested in politics. It was an occupational thing and less an apathetic one. I’d been a reporter most of my career and we’d been taught to keep our views to ourselves. At The Des Moines Register, I’d only ever covered politicians with a feature-ish slant i.e. where they ate or shopped when they were in town, not a hard news angle.

In 2011, I was thrust into the political arena when I took a job reporting for Patch.com. We’d been hired not just to cover hyperlocal news, but also to feed stories to AOL and The Huffington Post as the 2012 presidential candidates made their way across Iowa. I covered dozens of campaign stops, the Republican primary and the caucuses, but it was stories like Michele Bachmann’s visit to the Pizza Ranch that still got the most clicks.

Covering politics is exhausting and there were many nights I went to bed conflicted about what I wrote or what I heard or what readers would think about what I’d shared. The theatrics of it all felt problematic and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was somehow contributing to a narrative that couldn’t possibly be real.

I left the news business entirely in 2012 and never looked back. I’m not sure I could have survived the 2016 election or the years since. The last six years have been a crushing blow to the news industry. Trust in the media has eroded, and great reporters have been forced out, leaving a giant hole in coverage both locally and nationwide.

One thing’s the same: I still have that sense of ick that I did in 2016. I see more clearly now the political divide and often wonder how things became so uncivil. We lack kindness and humanity, patience and empathy, more so than ever before.

I can’t blame politicians entirely—we the people voted them in. And blaming the people is complicated. We are all human, unique in our feelings, our personalities and our habits.

Call me a snowflake (and some will), but I think the answer is kindness. Kindness to ourselves and our loved ones. Kindness to others, no matter their politics or position. Kindness to those who look, act and sound different than we do. And kindness to those who choose not to be kind.

What Inspires Me?

I attended the Iowa Safe Schools Spirit Awards on Friday night in Des Moines and left feeling absolutely energized. If you’re not familiar with Iowa Safe Schools, its mission is to “provide safe, supportive, and nurturing learning environments and communities for LGBTQ and allied youth through education, outreach, advocacy, and direct services.” The fundraiser Friday night raised more than $60k for the organization. If you’re looking for a way to make schools safer for LGBTQ youth in Iowa, consider donating to this great organization.

I’m fortunate to be a part of the Iowa Writers Collaborative (IWC) where a dozen or so brilliant writers come to share their work. All of them offer free subscriptions (kind of a try before you buy thing), but it’s the paid ones that keep food on the table.

Consider subscribing to one or all of these fantastic scribes. I promise you can’t go wrong.

Iowa Writers Collaborative: Iowa Writers Collaborative

Laura Belin: Iowa Politics with Laura Belin

Doug Burns: The Iowa Mercury

Dave Busiek: Dave Busiek on Media

Art Cullen: Art Cullen’s Notebook

Suzanna de Baca Dispatches from the Heartland

Debra Engle: A Whole New World

Julie Gammack: Julie Gammack’s Iowa Potluck

Beth Hoffman: In the Dirt

Dana James: New Black Iowa

Robert Leonard: Deep Midwest: Politics and Culture