Familiarity Bridges Lines of Differences
Postelection may unearth a variety of contradictions that we don’t address in our country. We like to keep things in dualism, but that isn’t ever who the US has been as a nation; we are filled with contradictions that make me believe that we still have hope to reorganize if we learn to listen for understanding rather than convincing someone their self-interest is wrong.
Just south of Washington, DC, near Joint Base Andrews in Clinton, Maryland, sitting across the street from a Planet Fitness and take-out called Hip Hop Fish N Chips is a local diner called Texas Ribs and BBQ. Its decor is wooden booths, dated country western paraphernalia, a keno monitor, and two televisions: one on ESPN while the other shuffles between various sitcoms from the1990s. The diner is divided. One side is a casual dining area occupied by active and retired military members and senior citizens from neighborhoods with different racial backgrounds, primarily white. Seated at the bar on the other side is the same profile, but these are the all-day drinkers who enjoy keno and good banter. On this side, the conversations are loud, boisterous, and filled with laughter.
Clinton has a colorful history. Formally known as Surratsville, it was the home of Mary Surrats, a Confederate and famous tavern owner executed for her involvement in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. The American Knights of the Ku Klux Klan had a strong presence within the county for many generations. That all shifted in the late 1980s/1990s as Black Americans became the majority population residents.
I have been an infrequent patron of this diner over the last ten years. The food is average, and the location leaves a lot to be desired. While the Washington, DC, metro region is incredibly diverse, many local communities remain segregated. However, the people capture most of America’s contradictions at this particular diner: a white waitress with half-black kids who dates a man who is openly racist; a 40-plus man with visible tattoos and an intense grimace goes to the VFW weekly to play Bingo with his grandma—wealthy retired Black people, who are dining in a cowboy-themed restaurant with all white staff. There is something unique about this place.
Recently, I sat inside the diner beside Paula, an 80-year-old Black woman who had worked for the Federal government for over 35 years. A few times a week, you will find her and her identical twin sister posted at that bar around noon with their buddy Rick, a white man in his early 70s. They sit in silence sometimes and sometimes chat about real estate, people in the diner, and politics. On this particular afternoon, they were discussing the Presidential election.
Paula baited me into a conversation about women in leadership and how she was pleased to support the first Black woman in office. I shrugged and said, “Sure, but I have other geo-political concerns.” Instead of going at me directly, she kindly talked about how hard it is for women in leadership.
“No matter how effective a woman is, she will be judged more harshly.”
“Paula, do you think I am against Harris because she is a woman?
“Yes,”,
“No. I'm just against imperialism.”
“Oh, I see; well, that's fine as long as you vote for her.”
This conversation prompts her buddy, Rick, an outspoken Trump supporter, to chime in: “Harris supports transgender surgery for all undocumented people.” “Now, this is an outrageous statement.” Paula says, staring at her phone, “I just Googled it. Nothing is coming up”.
"Well, you can’t trust Google.”
Paula keeps digging on the internet and comes across an article suggesting Harris supported transgender surgery for incarcerated persons in California. Now, she is a little taken aback and agrees that she would not support this, but she shrugs because she has decided and nothing will waver her.
As they disagree politely, Sean, the bartender, runs back and forth on the phone, slinging drinks and complaining about a towed car. Sean is a white American in his early 40s who has a local SE DC accent, an accent more commonly heard among Black Americans in that area. He isn’t putting on; it's natural. He runs the bar, mainly filled with Black men his age and older. They love him.
On the other end of the diner is Gail, an early 70s waitress who loves Kmart and how things used to be. She shares stories of her days as a hairdresser and the old neighborhood. She mostly misses the deals at the local Kmart, now a Burlington Coat Factory. It is evident in conversations that she also supports Trump, but she is keenly aware that she works for tips, so she drops little nuggets, but nothing too controversial. She is a pro.
The restaurant is managed by Daniel, a mid-40 Salvedorian queer man, “Daniel” is so very kind, but he doesn’t play. He will get you in and out, but without much conversation. He likes it quiet, and for the love of god, he whispers, “Why can’t people drink at home?”
There are many vibrant conversations in this diner. At times, they are chaotic, but they seem rooted in a spirit of familiarity—not necessarily love but mutual respect. We often hear that the US is heading towards some tremendous civil war, but in many ways, we have always had a complicated relationship status filled with contradictions.
NOTE: The names have been changed to protect identities