Time to Take a Knee

In the military, the American flag is lowered each evening at sundown as they play Taps over the loudspeaker. This is in line with the US flag code which says that the sun should never set on the American flag unless it is brightly lit. When I was in the Navy, around sundown sailors scurry for cover, trying to get inside before Taps began playing and they would be stuck outside standing at attention and saluting until the flag was lowered completely. I used to do the opposite. I would wander outside.

I was not a model sailor by any stretch. I resented authority, misbehaved, and mouthed off frequently; I had my share of other troubles, but deep down I was proud to serve my country. There was something deeply moving about being in a uniform and performing that small act of respect and deference.

Since then, when our National Anthem is played, I stand at attention with my right hand over my heart as is appropriate for someone not wearing a uniform. I secretly cringe at slouchers, hat wearers, crowd gazers, chatters, and even at people who think standing at parade rest is appropriate. It’s not. I say secretly because they are of course free to disrespect the flag. My values don’t have to be the values of everyone.

I’m horrified at people who wear the flag or representations of it as clothing, sweating on our national symbol, those who buy lawn chairs with the stars and stripes literally offering our flag their ass. I’m horrified at large flags waving from pick-up trucks, exposed to grime, diesel smoke, torn by the wind, tattered… Some people have flagpoles installed in the front yard and then leave the flag up at night, with no light on it. These things terribly bother me, but I feel alone. Most people neither notice, nor care.

What I am not bothered by is flag burning as a form of peaceful protest. I served my country so others might have the freedom of dissent, and because the flag means so much to me, I see burning as a powerful, evocative, yet peaceful act. In the US flag code, they say a damaged flag must be burned. The metaphor is powerful.

When Colin Kaepernick took a knee as a silent and peaceful protest against racial injustice, I was impressed and pleased. Here was a quiet, non-confrontational, yet powerful protest. He did not sit slouched and pick his nose, he did not just stay inside. He did not give the flag his middle finger. He bowed. He bowed.

I respected his issue and his protest, but his act was not for me. I love to stand at attention with my hand over my heart. It moves me. I told my children that I would fight for anyone’s right to take a knee, but I personally would not. Until last week.

Last week Donald Trump again worked hard to divide the country into two camps and it is no accident that one of those camps is almost exclusively white. While only a very short time ago, he called literal Nazis “good people,” he called black athletes engaged in peaceful, respectful protest “sons of bitches” and he urged their firing. Anyone who follows sports has pretty much accepted as a given that as a talented quarterback, Kaepernick is still without a job while less talented white quarterbacks are starting because of owner cowardice, or racism, or both.

I’m heartsick over this, deeply troubled. But our President has worked tirelessly to divide the country into those who are with him and those who are against him. If this is my only option, as it seems it must be, then the choice is obvious. Since I will not allow my simple act of deference and respect to be support for Trump’s bald racism, I must take the knee.

I will cry when I do. I’ll weep for the sacrifice of a simple pleasure, but more so I’ll weep for a country so divided, so jaundiced, so lacking in empathy that they believe the ultimate patriotism of peaceful protest to enrich the lives of fellow Americans is somehow Unamerican, while cruelty, crudeness, and belligerence have somehow become the norm.