Labor Days is one of those holidays that I believe has mostly lost its roots. It may be the worst of the holidays in terms of being disconnected to its roots. I say that because, although I celebrate every holiday I can, I try to connect that celebration to its origin. For things like Easter and Christmas, we always go to a service at our spiritual center. Holidays like Memorial Day and Veterans Day, at least when my child was young, we visited cemeteries or attended memorial services. For years, my son and I watched the musical of 1776 or Hamilton on July 4th to remember that the holiday was about much more than fireworks.

But Labor Day? I never really found a great way to connect the origins of Labor Days in a way that my son could understand. Honestly, I didn’t connect to it personally in terms of supporting labor, so no wonder I couldn’t teach it to my son.

Marianne Williamson had a great Labor Day post on her newsletter that was entitled “OF COURSE THERE WILL BE TEARS: For years we simply refused to cry them. They will no longer be denied.” In it, she says if you aren’t depressed about the state of the US right now, there is something wrong with you. But she argues that what our country is going through is karmic payback for years of not acknowledging people’s pain from our national policies. She reminds us that what we sow, so shall we reap. But she also reminds us that there is a Divine purpose through all this, and that we all need to be modern Moses leading our people to a new and better Promised Land.

So, she says, cry. Feel the sadness about what is happening in our country. Read, pray, and meditate. Then get up and go do something to make things better.

That post really spoke to me because I recognized its truth to me. I have to admit–I’ve spent most of my life not concerned about the people who make up the backbone of the MAGA movement. So that’s how I contributed to Donald Trump’s current presidency and all the things that I find sad and scary and just despicable about his policies.

In the first third of my life, I marched to Save the Whales and to end Nuclear Energy. I boycotted companies that didn’t use the nets that allowed dolphins to escape when capturing tunas or that went to Africa and tried convince breastfeeding mothers to switch to milk products that were given freely until their milk dried up and then they were forced to buy products to feed their infants. I threw my support behind affirmative action for women and African Americans and acceptance for gay rights.

I don’t regret those choices. I think we need to protect whales and to prevent needless dolphin deaths and to support moms in breastfeeding their children. I continue to support diversity in all realms.

But I see now that I was living in a privileged liberal bubble. What did any of that mean to people working two minimum wage jobs with little or no benefits and a weak support network? Who cares about dolphins when you just want tuna to be cheap enough so you can afford to feed your children?

I’m not saying that is all that MAGA America is. But I am saying that I didn’t know about the issues of the poor and the struggling in American communities that were different than mine. And what I don’t know about, I don’t actively care about (although I want the best for everyone all the time on a spiritual level).

I grew up in a family where both adults worked in public service. My father’ worked’s career was in international economics; my mother was a social worker. I grew up in a family where all six of us not only had college degrees, but some level of graduate studies. Among my three siblings and myself, two of us have Masters Degree, one has a Law Degree, and one has a PhD. So what do I know about the struggles of those who dropped out of high school to work to support their family? (Again, not saying that happened to all of Red America.)

So anyway, I see why Labor Day has traditionally not been big for me. I’ve never really known anyone who would be considered a “laborer.” Everyone in my family and everyone in the community in which I grew up were public servants, or politicians, or teachers, or had other professional jobs. No one had seasonal employment or worked for minimum wage, at least for their “adult” jobs.

This is my Labor Day acknowledgment of how I contributed to the current state of our nation. It was not maliciousness or prejudice (I hope) or antagonism towards a large percentage of our county. It was being oblivious. It was living within my urban intellectual bubble. It was not caring enough for all of us.

As Marianne Williamson predicts, that brings me to tears. But it also brings me to action. So stay tuned for some more Labor Day posts.