THIS JUST IN: You shouldn't respect everyone's opinions.

“You should respect everyone’s opinions.”
Above lies rhetoric that, at first glance, seems a harmless and broadly accurate maxim. Similar to the often-repeated proverbs of the politically agnostic such as “there are two sides to every story” and “an eye for an eye makes the world go blind”, this little saying often pops up during times of great political tension.
In the last few years I remember this phrase emerging around debates of political correctness, specifically when one of the men with a neck beard was kicked off of Duck Dynasty for saying, “[Gays are] full of murder, envy, strife, hatred. They are insolent, arrogant, God-haters. They are heartless, they are faithless, they are senseless, they are ruthless.” [x] Whew. Mostly centrist liberals often came to his aid, I recall, saying that of course his opinion was wrong, but he had a right to it, just like anyone else.
More recently, in my high school English class, we read an article about a democrat woman who congratulated herself on how she came to terms with realizing that we are all people, you know? Even republicans. We’re all just humans on the planet earth.
My response, which I thought at the time was relatively mild-mannered, evoked a reaction far greater than I expected. I said, “It’s pretty easy for her to say, isn’t it?”
The class looked at me, unsure of what I could be questioning. Wasn’t I the girl who kept going on and on about equality?
I added, “I mean, this white, wealthy woman married to a man. What does she have to lose by siding with the oppressors?”
It was one of those conversations that you replay over and over for weeks after. I find myself sometimes turning it over in my mind even now. In my mind, I don’t lose my cool. I can rewrite the memory so that I don’t end up crying in front of my peers. That my eloquence wasn’t lost because of the salt water burning in my eyes. 
The teacher argues that we’re all just trying our best, that you have to respect everyone’s opinions, that how can we ever make progress as a divided country?
At that point in my life, only seventeen, I’d heard all this before. It had always struck the wrong chord with me but I’d never sorted out why. Until then.
I muttered through clenched teeth and clouded eyes, when the class had gone silent after seeing me fall apart, “I cannot respect those who do not want me alive.”
The teacher didn’t know what to say. After some moments, the bell rang. I walked out.
In my mind this isn’t what happens. In my head, I look at these upper middle class supposed peers. I speak not with anger (though warranted) but with passion. Finding some newfound fire in myself, I continue, “It’s easy for you to sit with these people at your table, to share a meal or watch a game of football together. To put politics aside for a moment or several or for the rest of your life. But when the question on the table is, should I be electrocuted for wanting to kiss who I want to kiss? Do black lives really matter? Were his hands really up?—These I cannot discuss over supper with a placid smile.”
I think we assume safe rhetoric like this doesn’t need to have nuance because it comes across so universal. From kindergarten we’ve been taught to get along regardless of what the other person thinks. And for about 95% of opinions, I would agree.
I might judge you for thinking DC is better than Marvel, but in the end, it won’t break a friendship. It would be ridiculous if it did.
And for some reason, small, relatively unimportant viewpoints on things such as comic book companies, are put in the same realm as the question of basic human rights. We assume all opinions are equal, both in terms of weight and impact and even truth. Sure, there are opinions about the shape of the earth. But are they really all as plausible, as researched, as proven? Should we respect the repeatedly defeated opinion that climate change is a hoax, even if it puts all of our lives in danger?
Another common phrase that truly only applies to the privileged or the greatly apolitical, “don’t bring up religion and politics at the dinner table”. With regards to religion, I understand, yet often both themes are related.
What I want to know is, who am I eating dinner with? Why are we hiding our strongest beliefs behind small talk in order to secure a fragile relationship? This is the language of the privileged who don’t need to talk about civil rights or presidents or policy at the dinner table because after dinner is done, their lives will go back to being their lives. They can toy with the question of equal rights like they’re asking about your favorite movie.
I’m feeling myself become more of a Magneto than a Professor X as time goes on. More Malcolm, less Martin. More 90s anti-establishment hip-hop and less “All You Need Is Love” Beatles. You get the idea.
Regardless of my personal journey with this concept, I think this neoliberal rhetoric of opinion respect and opinion equality is in the same boat as the dreaded post-racial outlook, or post-sexism. It’s insinuating that we’re in a world where opinions do not create physically harmful results. As if all the rights have been fought for, all the antagonistic tension tied up in a lovely denouement.
For some, I’m sure, the world seems that way. I wish I knew how to say “good for you” in a way that doesn’t sound passive-aggressive but alas. Instead, I’ll offer a hand to those in the middle ground, who aren’t too far gone, who haven’t denounced me as evil or unnatural or sinful just yet. We offer, all of us antagonized by the system, windows into our experiences. Through literature, art, and 90s anti-establishment hip-hop. We know the middle is safe, and comfortable, and easy. But I want to ask,

For who?

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