The Degree By Which Demographics Impact Relationships (Within Samson Society Or Otherwise)

Just how differently (if at all) do you think about / view the world / people around you if you have / do not have (either/or) a college degree?  What if your Silas has zero higher education / a college degree but you do have a college degree (or multiple college degrees) / don't have any higher education?  How might those opposing demographic descriptors impact your friendship?  Knowing what we do of Christian men who find themselves in crisis, Samson Society may very well fit the bill, yet every man is unique.  As such, there is no categorical recipe for men to both find themselves within crisis and in turn, step into our community.  It is welcome to all.  But over time, their demographic will no doubt become a part of their Samson Society narrative.  And this is a good thing because that's in line with the spirit of transparency that our community is built upon, but over time, that (specifically demographic) narrative will predictably pigeonhole this man into his specific group.

On a related note, the differentiator between an in-person and virtual Samson Society meeting experience is how much more efficiently those present will find their specific narratives being fleshed out within the in-person format.  And this is simply a result of the au natural human-to-human connection, and how prone men are to effectively relate when they're physically present with each other.

My experience with the questions I've posed above harken all the way back to 2014.  This is when I first stepped foot into a Jackson, Mississippi Samson Society meeting as a college educated, professionally licensed freak (my story attests to this).  At that time, I was more defeated and ashamed than I'd ever been.  And just as isolated as I'd found myself one year prior when everything around me began falling apart (job loss due to breaking IT policy at Delta State University).

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Relational tribalism, amongst men of the same demographic / educational background, can (I'm using the word "can" in lieu of "will" because I'm only privy to my own experience) sometimes develop and thrive within the Samson Society.  Especially, I would argue, within the Samson Society.  And I believe this is due to how prone Samson guys are to being loners.  Hence, as such, individual men who gravitate towards isolation may not garner nor divvy out a trustworthy approach - no questions asked.  Instead, there tends to be much less of an agnostic relational outlook in spite of the free enterprise verbiage spelled out within the Samson Society charter.  Now, relational tribalism, in my opinion, is an extreme form of simply relegating oneself to a specific clique.  Considering that truth, be forewarned of how quickly it can set in, efficiently working in favor of a distinctly inbred approach to community.

So we have two factors that I find tend to consistently subdivide the Samson Society community.

1.  demographics

2.  Samson guy's comfortableness with a specific outlook / state of being (individual isolation) which is prone to subjugate him into cliques (sub-grouped isolation).

I'm going to focus going forward on item number 1 because I'm fascinated by it.

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Five or six years ago, our now present-day church, Lakeside Presbyterian Church, formally voted out (removed) their then Senior Pastor.  At the time, we were not members of the church.  Instead, we were back at First Baptist Church Jackson (which is where Angie and I grew up and were married).  I'd sensed this Presbyterian ouster would eventually come to pass, therefore instead of riding out the emotional / relational rapids at our local community church (Lakeside Pres), we made a discreet exit (back to FBCJ with the hope of an eventual return).

Immediately prior to Lakeside Pres' then pastor's formal ouster, a group of twenty or so families began discreetly rallying around this man, for they saw the writing on the wall.  They did so to the point of working with him to seed an entirely new church for their collective.  And that did occur, thereby that new church(split) was eventually dubbed "Reigning Grace Church".  

Within a few years though, "Reigning Grace Church" imploded.  Then the disgraced pastor (& his wife) returned to his roots on the east coast (which is where they came to Mississippi from).  

I remember writing this man a short "thinking of you" note (upon his termination from Lakeside Pres), acknowledging the tremendous humiliation involved in a forced termination.  Though he and I weren't at all close, I couldn't help but sympathize.  For as I referenced earlier, just a few years prior to this schism, I'd been terminated from Delta State University in the most heartless, unprofessional manner conceivable (to me).  

I would have never taken the time to write this note though, had I known what was about to transpire in the form of "Reigning Grace Church".

The "church split" that occurred came very close to shuttering Lakeside Presbyterian Church completely.  For the church body was already tremendously sad over the procedural hurdles they'd had to go through to decouple their stubbornly complacent pastor.  This combined with the recent loss (by suicide) of one of their most accomplished / beloved elders earlier that same year made Lakeside especially vulnerable for such a time as that.

But God sustained this small Reservoir community church through this supernaturally, and today, it is better for it relative to its steadfastness in furthering its local church mission - only.

What's of interest though regarding this "Reigning Grace Church" startup's unforeseen demise has to do with the mundaneness of the item number one listed above - demographics, and the critical role it played therein.

The subset of Lakeside Presbyterian Church families that "rebelled" by decoupling themselves from Lakeside Pres - in protest to the Senior Pastor's termination - were no different demographically than those they left behind.  As such, I would argue, their new church faced a great deal of difficulty developing it's own identity / purpose apart from the mothership.  Too, the "Reigning Grace Church" chose to locate within an adjacent county / city (Madison) which was demographically decidedly different than Rankin / Reservoir area (where Lakeside Pres resides).  

The tale of "Reigning Grace Church" isn't unique.  Most (small scale) church splits don't thrive.  Instead, they peter out fairly quickly just as this one did.  And this is due to the churchsplit's inability to successfully separate itself from its historical identity anchored in demographics.  Demographics that are comfortably the same to where they split away from.  Petty theological differences usually aren't nearly enough to anesthetize the massive emotional scars left to be healed by a church split.  As such, their identity as the "rebels" alone often falls way short of what's needed to kickstart the process of penning their own narrative.

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Now, let's look at another example.  One that's just as personally poignant but whose ultimate outcome (well beyond the snippet I'm disclosing here) is the reverse of what I've described above.

Two younger men were invited to the Lakeside Presbyterian Church Samson Society (which I used to facilitate) many years ago by a younger, close friend (who was a regular attendee), and it's important to note that this younger friend just happened / happens to not be within my demographic (which was / is really cool).  I'd enjoyed (& still enjoy) his friendship for many years, even serving as his Silas for much of that early-on time period.    

The two younger men he invited just happened to be within my demographic, at least relative to higher education.  I took note of this immediately, and frankly was pleased to have them there - that much more - due to our demographic similarities.  

Now let me stop here and interject something of note.

Part of my modus operandi as a Samson Society group facilitator was to offer to dine / have coffee with newbies immediately following their attendance to their first meeting(s).  This was one of the primary reasons I instituted a "Sign-In" page for each meeting, requiring attendees to provide their contact info.  Therefore, I did just that with these young men.  And both eventually agreed to join me.  As such, I vividly recall both meals being well worth the time (& monies) spent.  The conversation flowed easily between us as I executed my dental work.

Three to five days after I'd had the opportunity to "roll out the red carpet" via my hospitableness towards these young college-educated Samson Society newbies, something very weird happened.  In fact, it was about the most unexpected thing I've had happen to me whilst being part of this community.

My old friend (who'd invited these men to the Lakeside Pres group) and a similarly demographic to him friend of both of ours, approached me in order to question my motives relative to lunching with these newbies.  This too occurred over a lunch, and I distinctly recall - after this juncture - beginning to question myself.   For the frictional situation I now found myself in was both off putting and extremely confusing. 

Ultimately, and I just did not want to formally recognize this all those years ago, what I had found myself caught in the middle of was a territorial, disguised as solely platonic, pissing match.  A pissing match that I'd ignorantly provoked simply by following a protocol that I'd established as a Samson Society group facilitator.

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The neighborhood that we call home is somewhat demographically diverse (though getting less & less so with each passing year).  I believe I've written about that prior.  The homes are small (by 2021 standards) and packed in like sardines within a tightly compacted, nondescript setting.  Therefore, it's next to impossible to not know - to some degree - who lives where and what they're up to most of the time.

The youngest single family homeowners on our 11-home cul-de-sac have a daughter about the age of our youngest.  As they eventually settled into our enclave over the past three to four years (they very much kept to themselves), I began neighborly engaging with the hopes that they'd eventually dine with us.  I like to meet people in an effort to extract their narratives (dental work!), but especially from the standpoint of hopefully furthering the gospel via hospitality.  Plus, I just felt so moved to minister to this young family.  

Unfortunately, this juncture did not occur.  And yet again, it was due to my stupidity relative to naively provoking a pissing match over demographics.  

In the end, what I reflexively relayed in jest - to our new neighbors (via text message) - was in no way perceived as such (& I cannot emphasize that enough).  And from there, it was all downhill (Black diamond).  To the point that soon thereafter, I had to call a family meeting in an effort to warn the girls to steer clear of our neighbors in order to avoid any collateral damage.

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I want all three of my daughters to attend college.  Even if they don't necessarily pursue a life that's career-centric.  Higher education matures individuals.  Particularly if you can endure the pain required to complete it.  

But, I'm biased.  And so is Angie.  In the end, there are plenty of folks out there who have a completely different point of view than we do about higher education.  And most of those have zero higher education experience.  And that's perfectly okay.

The point of this post isn't to argue for or against higher education.  The point here is to attempt to begin to unpack the long-term relational complexities involved in bringing all manner of men-in-crisis together within the Samson Society.  Men from various demographic backgrounds who are committed to this very special ministry.

It's so interesting to me how despite Samson guys' various religious backgrounds / beliefs, those never seem to subtly complicate things as much as demographics have the potential to.  I have to wonder if this is the case in other parts of world where various meetings are hosted.

In the end, I find that it's really, really difficult to maintain one foot equally on each side of the railroad tracks without running the risk of getting run down by the train.  And this makes my heart sad.  Demographics do play a significant role in synchronizing narratives (bringing likeminded men together) which is the ultimate goal of relational accountability, and it sucks to have to admit to this.  

Relational accountability though is the heart of Samson Society NOT the synchronization of every man's narrative.

I would argue that finding relational accountability within a diverse friendship is / will be a far more precious experience, and as such, should be revered / cherished / protected to the nth degree.

Recommended Viewing

Announcement for Path/Steps Jackson Metro Samson Society Group!

                                                               Samson Society Meeting

Focusing on The Path and Working the Steps

6 PM Monday Nights at First Baptist Clinton

 "We in the Samson Society have been set upon a Path, a way of living that leads to godliness and freedom."

Samson Society has always been built around The Path, the steps we work toward repentance, healing, and hope. Many members among us have recognized the centrality of the path to finding godliness and freedom, and have seen the way our lives can radically change when we choose to work the steps. On the one hand, we are not a 12-step program -- but on the other hand, we are making daily choices toward healing and wholeness, and the seven Steps of The Path describe and guide those choices. We have been set upon this path, and we are learning how to walk it.

If you are a member of the Samson Society and you want to know more about The Path, you are invited to join Samson Society Jackson's first Path-based meeting! Each week we will gather to do two things: first, to pursue the goals of our charter, sharing honestly, out of our own personal experience, the challenges and encouragements of daily Christian living in a fallen world. And second, to turn our focus toward walking The Path, working the steps, and sharing that journey with other men on The Path with us. Practically, our sharing time will be "step-based" instead of "word-based:" we will discuss one of the steps each week, though, as always, we are not confined to that subject -- You may speak about any issue that is currently commanding your attention. This is the only change to the typical meeting format.

Because the first step on The Path is Believing the Fact, we will also go through each of the seven realities in The Fact on a week-by-week basis. So, this meeting will go through The Fact and The Path, one reality or step each week, over the course of about 4 months (repeating this cycle about three times a year). And you can jump in any time, wherever we are!

This is a meeting for anyone who is part of The Society, or who may be interested in learning more about what The Society is and does. Wherever you are on The Path - even if you have not stepped one foot on it! - this is a meeting for you:

If you want to get started on the path for the first time;

if you feel stuck and are seeking help getting out of a rut and back into the steps;

if you are working the steps faithfully and want to share your burdens and joys;

if you are skeptical about Samson society and not sure if this is a place for you;

if you want to know God's heart for you and explore the beauty of his grace;

if any of these descriptions resonate in your heart, then this meeting is for you.

Please reach out to Will Osborn for more details and information! Our first cycle runs September 27th (The Fact, reality #1) to December 27th (The Path, step 7). Our second cycle starts Monday, January 3rd (The Fact, reality #1).

Will Osborn

Email + iMessage: will.tosborn@gmail.com | Voice mail + Text: (562) 552-1394

Recommended reading

 Pastor serves on same streets he once sold drugs (ajc.com)

Recommended Viewing - "What Should I Do With My Sexual Desire?"

He Said - She Said / Entertainment (& Success!) From "Lies"

We've lived within our 1,550 sf abode for over twenty years.  Never have we replaced any of the floor finishes (carpet, wood flooring, ceramic tile) within the house despite the fact that we've lived with a chronic - under the wood floor - leak at / near the front door.  My theory is that this leak is the result of a large picture window that was either incorrectly installed or manufactured faultily.  The leak has badly stained the floor at the juncture of the floor plane and wall, and it's grown progressively worse (leak has expanded) over the past twenty years.  It's important to know that I can distinctly recall placing my head within my hands, all those years ago, upon first realizing that we had this leak.  For I knew it was going to represent a massive thorn within our home's building envelope. 

During the first year of living within this "garden home", the man who had the house constructed (who was always very uncooperative / resistant to take responsibility) did pay a flooring subcontractor to return and replace the then stained portion of the wood floor.  He did this after claiming that the leak had been successfully repaired.  But we soon discovered that the leak persisted.  Even after I paid thousands of dollars, years later, to have the exterior wall finish (EIFS) refinished / sealed / repainted (around this now identified leaky window), the leak persisted.

Throughout the decades that this has been going on, I've essentially been lying to myself about its severity.  And this is how I've chosen to deal with the problem.  Particularly as a homeowner who's also an architect.  It's really been the only way I've known to manage this chronic, very in-your-face water infiltration issue.  

At the present, besides the aforementioned wood floor staining, there's also no doubt that our primary floor finish (throughout the house), carpet, is now badly needing replacement.  And this is simply due to wear and tear.  Yet, I'm choosing to not lie to myself about that one because I've a successful plan with which to do something about it.  

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Lies are always more comfortable to exist within than reality, particularly when our problems are way more involved / complicated than we're equipped to handle.  Somewhat related to that is entertainment.  The majority of entertainment is fiction.  Rigorously developed / written / acted / directed / produced fiction.  Fiction that's so clever / inspiring that we consume each episodic occurrence with abandon as we put reality on hold within the background.  

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Growing up within the city of Madison during the '80s, there were no retail stores whatsoever other than gas stations, therefore my mother had to drive either to where Angie and I live now (on the Rankin County side of the Reservoir) or into Ridgeland (via Highway 51) to grocery shop.  The most convenient Ridgeland grocery store was dubbed the "Big Star", and I distinctly recall it always having a carousel of paperbacks for sale inside.   

As a child, reading was a passion of mine, therefore if I stumbled upon something that piqued my interest amongst the tomes on this oscillating wire rack, I'd usually place it in our shopping cart (hoping Darlene would not object).

It was during this time that I encountered the "unauthorized biography", and I would be remiss to not divulge that Moonlighting was one of my favorites TV shows as a teen.  As such, Mr. Bruce Willis' career was being established right before my eyes as the infamous David Addison.

I remember curiously leafing through the Bruce Willis unauthorized biography paperback, paying heed primarily to only the candid black & white photos of Bruce there in the middle of the scoop.  From there, I skimmed a lot before tossing that trash into the trash.

What this experience proved to me was that David Addison was far more important / impressive to me than Bruce Willis, yet it did plant a seed within me regarding the fact that a lot of something else was going on here, far removed from our glowing television set at 197 St. Augustine Dr.

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One of the most credentialed Samson guys I've come to know had quite the successful shoplifting career as an adolescent.  His methodology involved wearing a trench coat into big box retailers from which he'd stash his stolen wares.  Decades later, as an adult, despite his role as "Chairman of the Deacons" at the church he and his family frequented, he was a behind-the-scenes serial adulterer, using hook up smartphone apps to establish / maintain his ruse.  And this went on for years 'till the Ashley Madison hack occurred and he, like so many men, had their lies exposed.

This friend has confessed openly that so much about his public persona is a lie.  Particularly within the vocational realm.  Yet, he's trusted more in those character lies, to propel him forward, than his true self.  As such, so have his colleagues, who've done the promoting.  

It's as if he's recognized / accepted his decision to be more comfortable / capable pretending in order to get what he truly desires out of his life, yet within the background, there's this ever present conflict between what he's created and who he truly is.

That, my friends, is an example of truly living in tension.  And I believe many white collar men accept this as their own reality each and every day.

But there's got to be a relief valve, doesn't there?

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My mother's mother is almost 90-years old, and she lives with my mother's brother (her only sibling) in rural Humphreys County.  Like many Mississippians who're her age, she is not in the best physical, emotional or fiscal health.  My mom (with my grandmother concurring) believes it's best for her to live in her +/-900 sf rancher with my uncle (versus living alone or within a nursing home) out in the middle of nowhere.  And this has been her status quo ever since my grandfather died back in 2014.   

Last week, she fell inside the house and suffered some lacerations on her face / head.  It scared everyone in the family but particularly my mother who wasn't there to witness what actually occurred.  This obviously resulted in rushing her away for emergency medical care.  Care which is only available +/- an hour from her remote home.  This was the first time she'd fallen in all the years she'd lived within this home.

This week, she fell again, but this time it was outside on the concrete patio.  Immediately thereafter, she accused my uncle of pushing her down.  She came away with a broken clavicle as a result, per the doctor's analysis here in Jackson.  She stayed with my parents for a few days before being returned to her routine in the Mississippi Delta.

My uncle had telephoned my mother immediately before her fall, claiming she'd "gone crazy".  Darlene could tell that her brother and mother were having a heated exchange (which is not an uncommon occurrence) over some tomfoolery.  He denies accosting her.  Instead, he claims he reached out to steady her walker prior to her hard felt fall.

My uncle is known for his penchant for lying, therefore in spite of my grandmother's age / emotional / physical health, I'm of the opinion that she's the one to believe here.  Neither of my parents would ever willingly side with me though regarding this.  Instead, they'd rather conveniently move forward as if it had been her fault entirely, or simply not discuss it.  Therefore, all I can do at this point is feel powerless.

You must know that my uncle is an extremely intimidating man.  In fact, he's the most intimidating man I've ever known.  As such, I believe, lying comes easy for him since it's presented within such a threatening persona.  Both his build, but particularly his voice, fall in line with these attributes.  He is the epitome of redneck, white trash machismo that consistently telegraphs the notion of "don't even think of crossing me".  Yet, underneath all of that, he's a brilliant, extremely articulate guy with a heart that, at times, can show true care and concern in spite of his long track record of self absorbedness.

Throughout my life, I've watched my parents often cater to my uncle and his needs, but this truly went into overdrive when I was close to concluding my college career.  And my grandmother has modeled this for them, yet her approach has always been enabling.  She's wrongfully bailed him out of countless, very serious scenarios that he's found himself within (a few of which would have resulted in an accrued criminal record).  As such, Bob and Darlene have - at times - been just as relentlessly merciful.  I can relate to none of this since I've no siblings of my own.  Instead, throughout most of my life, I've simply been a silent observer of these emotionally charged familial dynamics between people whom I care for immensely. 

As such, I FIND THAT I HAVE NO NEED FOR MUCH OF ANY FICTION AT THIS POINT IN MY LIFE.  There's plenty of real-life drama these days, within my own family, to keep me in emotional knots / awake at night.  And these dynamics do a great job of doing just that.

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I wrote within an earlier post about utilizing gay porn to emotionally bank / connect.  

Despite the fact that it's been close to one year since I've consumed gay porn, I chose to do so yesterday.  And I can confirm that a whole lotta emotional banking / connecting did actually occur between me and those images.  Particularly taking into consideration what I now know of what went down earlier this week between my loser uncle and my sweet grandmother.  

The emotional connection I experience whilst consuming gay porn is hyper efficient, having been established all the way back to my childhood.  So much moreso than I truly care to admit to.  And I'm not sure how to not justify using it when I'm faced with emotional predicaments (that are out of my control) similar to the one I've described above.  

After the fact (later on into the evening / earlier today), I thought a good bit about attempting to rendezvous with my Silas over the weekend in order to simply experience some quality, platonic physical touch (I'm not in the mood to talk).  But I haven't done that.  Instead, I've chosen to simply write out where I'm at in tandem with talking to my sweet wife (who sensed immediately that something unfortunate had gone down relative to my sobriety when I walked through the door last night).   

In closing, I am so ready for the National Samson Society retreat to get here.  I long to hear some helpful truth(s) whilst experiencing those real world, hyper efficient emotional connections, allowing every ounce of it to wash over me in droves.   

"I Can't Stand That Woman!" / Rob's Mississippi

A day or so after (9/11/01), my parents and I had dinner at a local Mexican restaurant here in Jackson with a dear retired couple (now deceased) that had served to mentor my folks during the early years of their marriage.  To be more specific, my parents had served under them (when I was in middle school) within our church (First Baptist Church Jackson) as Sunday School directors within the class they taught.  This particular Sunday School class was relegated to singles, and as such, it was duly popular.  So much so, in fact, that many of the attendees who'd "marry out" of this class would find ways to stick around (in spite of their betrothal).

This older couple were retired educators, both having served within the Jackson Public Schools district as teachers and administrators / coaches.  Hence, they were astute, articulate people, who were incredibly down to Earth and loved by many.  I have a queue full of great memories of them and my parents as they came alongside each other to serve at our church during those 3-4 years of my childhood.

During our dinner, there was a nationwide minute of silence, in honor of those who'd perished within the terrorist's attack.  Therefore we, like so many others, sat awkwardly in silence at our restaurant booth after the din suddenly halted.  From there, our conversation couldn't help but turn to the attack / politics, the latter of which wasn't a topic that I'd ever remembered broaching with this older couple during all of the fun-filled dinners before.

At this time, I was in my late 20s, and politics simply weren't of interest to me.  Growing up with my two parents, neither of which had any interest / real understanding whatsoever in / of politics, relegated me too to turning a blind eye towards it.

But I soon discovered that this wasn't the case regarding this dear older couple.  Instead, they were both obviously quite vested / interested in the politics of the day.

At this point in time, despite my overall disinterest, I couldn't help but take note of Hillary Clinton's political ambitions.  To the point of admiring her poise and obvious intelligence.  As such, back in 2001, Ms. Clinton was continuing to vie for elected "opportunities" where she might flex her specific leadership skillset (independent from her husband, Bill), and frankly, I admired that.  

For whatever reason, I interjected her name into the conversation (post minute of silence) as we munched on tortilla chips and salsa, and this is when the unexpected happened.

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A month or so ago, my sweet wife and I shared "our final meal" with our oldest dependent.  This was at a Cracker Barrel restaurant prior to moving her into a freshman dorm room in south Mississippi.  It was a sobering experience for us, knowing she was now officially out of the nest.

About ten minutes in, a multi-generational clan were seated adjacent to us.  What struck me about this family was what was displayed prominently across the tee shirt of the +/-30-year-old daughter (or perhaps daughter-in-law).  It said the following: "PROUD TO BE A DEPLORABLE".  

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I was born and reared within the great state of Mississippi.  My parents are from a small Mississippi Delta town dubbed Belzoni.  My mom was reared in rural Humphreys County (outside of Belzoni), and her upbringing was impoverished.  Her family didn't have indoor plumbing 'till she was 9 or 10 years old.  They did eventually obtain this (within the "new" house), but they (family of four) were still confined to +/-900 square feet of (non-centrally climate-controlled) space.   

Their existence was typical for Mississippi in the '50s and '60s, and many, many Mississippians live within these similar conditions today.

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During my teenage years, there were two things that made the most endeavoring impact.  One was my being heavily involved at First Baptist Church Jackson, and the other was the privilege I had of befriending two older teenagers (older peers at my high school), both of which were similarly atypical as I was (ambition / temperament).  The latter happened during the summer before my tenth grade year.  Since both of these new friends were a year older than I, that gave me two solid years to enjoy that companionship, and let me tell you:  it was awesome.  

From there, my two friends exited Mississippi and neither looked back (except to be in my wedding in '96).  One of those two does still have family here (perhaps), but the other's family moved away decades ago.

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Mississippi represents the clear and present underdog within this US of A.  So long as you're taking stock of economic indicators, educational milestones, healthcare availability, and so forth.  In tandem with that is our geographic mundaneness and muddy, waveless coastline.  

But growing up as I did, around the folks I did, these uncompetitive attributes weren't at all on my radar.  Instead, it was the aforementioned influencers that had my full attention.

Therefore, that was my Mississippi.

Samson Society guys make up the core group of men that I allow to influence me today.  Most of those are Mississippians at the present, but many of them are from Florida, Tennessee.  And it's important to know that this has not always been the case.

Taking all of this into account, most of us wish not to be reduced to a label.  And certainly not then ushered into an assumption by default.  This is discriminatory behavior that is in no way in line with the gospel of Jesus Christ.  

There are a LOT of people in Mississippi who live lives that are vastly different than people within other states, and as such, there are many Samson guys from those troupes who are ushered in therein - no questions asked.  It's what makes our groups unique as representatives of this state.  

Politicians, through their words, are meta-influencers.  And those words are birthed within their thought life prior to being unleashed as sound bytes.  Yet, so many of everyone's words (whether politicized or not) are often said with little to no consideration as to their impact.   

I don't wish to see people through the eyes of other's observations / labels, but it is sure hard to NOT do this at times.

This is why I try to steer clear of politics, though unfortunately, it's seemingly everywhere these days.  

Be wary of generalizing or applying labels.  Instead, turn your criticality inward and keep it there 'till your arrogance is effectively reset.  Or better yet, study your roots.  To the point that you never forget exactly where you came from.