An American woman thinks about humanizing one another.

Through and through, that’s me. A regular American.

So, why is a neighbor on Facebook saying I should get out of my own country because I have a different political leaning? Why did someone laughingly say they’d be happy to see harm come to me because I don’t vote like them? Why are some saying I don’t belong here if I’m not like them? The rhetoric surrounding politics can easily get offensive and abusive. Oh, I know you don’t think you’re talking about me. It’s just people “like” me. But it is about me…just not written or said specifically with me in mind. Maybe if you could see my face, exchange smiles, and look me in the eyes, you’d see something of who I really am.

Let’s just assume I don’t vote like you. It’s a safe bet that it’s true with close to half of you. And, folks from both ends of the spectrum are equally guilty of dehumanizing those with whom they disagree. If you are belittling the people who aren’t making the same selection as you, there’s a decent chance it’s me you’re talking about. But I am a regular American woman, doing what I need to each day to get by like everyone else. Over the years, I have tried to learn what I can, vote responsibly, pay my taxes, treat people well, enjoy being part of our community, contribute to the overall good.

I was born in the middle of the country in the good ole state of Oklahoma to my parents who were living at Fort Sill where my dad was stationed in the Army. My family comes from North Carolina and Virginia, where I spent most of my years. In elementary school, I loved recess and snack time. In middle school, I went to my first school dance, where we all bore the awkwardness that is a dance with no dancers—No one brave enough to risk embarrassment. In high school, I went to my first concert, singing along and making a fool of myself over Rick Springfield. Yes, I am aware that ages me. I loved biology and hated dressing out for gym, loved walking home with my best friend and hated being bullied by some girl who hardly knew me. American girlhood.

My family went to church where I sang in the youth choir, helped teach Bible school, and spent a huge portion of my time. I’ve been committed to following Jesus since I was twelve and it is still central to who I am.

I’ve been married to a great man for long time. We’ve managed through early days on tight finances, learned the hard way about bouncing checks and using credit cards when you can’t pay them off right away. A lot has been fun, but often it involves hard work. When we brought our first child home, we learned how to grow into parenthood like every parent does. And we wanted to get everything right. How long did it take before we weren’t perfect at it? About as long as it takes anyone else. Our lives have been full… meeting the school bus on dark winter mornings, fixing meals after long days at work, getting everyone clean and in bed to do it all over the next day. We’ve managed leaking pipes, power outages, barfing kids, car trouble, teenage drivers, insurance for teenage drivers… You get the point. It’s been a normal, regular life in America.

Generalizing can allow people to say harsh, cruel things about people they rub elbows with everyday. People they need. People they actually appreciate, but don’t know that’s who they are putting down. People they’re insulting and demonizing without realizing who the face and heart is on the other end of their sneer. It’s sad. It hurts feelings and can make people feel unwelcome in their own neighborhood, hometown, and country. That should never happen. Really. It just shouldn’t.

Honestly, I imagine I’ve said some things that made others feel judged or less accepted without even recognizing it. If it was you, I’m sorry. We can all carelessly blast out our cruel words, strong opinions, and even threats and wishes for hardship so easily when we aren’t face-to-face.

Maybe each of us can take a moment before we spout off or post quick insults and think about the people we meet each day who make life work. Those who provide medical care, fix our food, handle our money, share our roads. They get up and go to bed the same way as everyone else. They don’t have to all vote or think the same to belong here. They are real people—we shop at their store, buy gas at their station, greet them at the counter with a smile, come to them for service, cheer on sports teams with them… we’re in this thing called life together.

What if we commit not to dehumanize people? Please don’t dehumanize me. I’ll try to remember you’re a regular person, too. Regular Americans who agree or don’t agree, but still regular Americans. And, this is home—a place to behold.