The Privilege Of Profane Reverence
Appropriation For Thee, But Not For Me
This is Sitting Queerly, a newsletter focused on the late blooming queer experience, the lofty goal of opening up conversations and celebrating those who embrace their full selves.
I took this photo during my first Pride celebration that I wrote about at the start of June. I didn’t share it then, because it’s this photo that I specifically received some feedback on. Not about the photo itself, but about what it depicts.
I’ve been (morbidly) fascinated by how the U.S. flag is depicted and used for years. Specifically, I am interested in how its depiction and use by different groups compares to how those groups perceive its depiction and use by others, particularly in light of the so-called U.S. Flag Code, a non-enforceable yet congressionally-enacted code of etiquette. I’ve taken lots of photos of U.S. flags in various forms, nearly all of them in violation of some aspect of the flag code. I recently put together a simple maquette of them (including this photo) for a photobook and even wrote an essay to accompany, which I am including below. The end of the essay could use a little work, so any feedback is appreciated.
Happy Independence Day.
Imagine you are named after God.
didn’t have to imagine it. His name, the Hebrew word for “Peace,” is one of the 72 names of God in Judaism. As he described for a segment on This American Life in 2007, that meant everything his full name was written on while he attended a yeshiva could never be thrown away, at least not in the everyday sense. Instead, it was deposited in his yeshiva’s Shaimos box, the resting place of discarded writings of names of God until they could be ritually buried.The Shaimos Box in the prayer hall filled quickly-- my homework, my test papers, my ‘what I did this summer,’ even my Highlights for Children-- and buried at the bottom of the box, a pair of underpants my mother had written my name on with permanent marker. It seemed I couldn't go an hour without making something holy.
The mundanity of the document (or underwear) bearing his name made no difference to the rabbi who was his instructor; They bore the name of God, and therefore were sacred. Those items could never touch the ground and when no longer needed, had to be discarded in a proper, and, to Auslander, onerous way. To do otherwise would be more than disrespectful—it would be tantamount to sacrilege.
***
“Ubiquitous” is an understatement in describing the presence of the flag of the United States of America in the daily life of its residents. There are, of course, the standard displays you’d expect in any nation-state—flying outside government buildings and public spaces such as courthouses, libraries and city halls and embroidered on the uniforms of members of the military or even local law enforcement. However, those examples are a mere fraction of its presence. You see the flag flying from flagpoles outside many private homes or, in some parts of the country, flying from makeshift flagpoles attached to vehicles. There are the miniature versions given to children at parades at all times of the year, not just culturally-important civic observances such as Independence Day. There are flags that are painted or pasted together of construction paper lining the halls of schools. The U.S. national anthem makes the flag itself its primary subject, imbued with the initial values associated with the country.
As any other American, the U.S. flag has figured prominently in my life. I said the Pledge of Allegiance, hand over my heart while looking at the flag, daily throughout my compulsory education. I even still have a piece of art I made in grade school, with the pledge written in juvenile cursive in a bottle. Stood and put my hand over my heart through countless performances of the National Anthem at public events. As a Boy Scout, I wore a patch of the flag on my uniform, was part of color guards at events, participated in a ritual burning to dispose of those no longer fit for use.
But we are only just scratching the surface of how deeply embedded the flag is in American culture. How many representations of the flag did you see as bumper stickers or window decals on your drive to work this morning? How many t-shirts were emblazoned with it in some fashion the last time you were out shopping, either being worn by mannequins or customers? Think about all the advertisements you may have seen while scrolling online, or even when flipping through a printed magazine or newspaper. The paper plates and napkins at your last summer barbecue, not just around the 4th of July, may have had a Stars & Stripes theme. Perhaps even one of your debit or credit cards in your wallet or purse uses the flag as a design motif. And then there are the companies, organizations and movements that make it part of their entire branding, be they civically-minded or a provider of plumbing services.
Research over the years has shown that the U.S. flag is strongly associated not only with a set of values and ideology, but with literal sanctity. The mere presence of the flag at an event will immediately confer a certain importance, and the more it is displayed and how it is displayed, i.e. multiple flags lined up behind a podium or a single one draped upon a coffin, further defines that importance on a scale from excitement to solemnity. Rare is the public event that does not have a U.S. flag flying above the proceedings, if not also acknowledged as part of the event’s program. Politicians not only invoke this sanctity, but so will military leaders, teachers, pastors. And while nearly all mainline political movements in the U.S. have associated themselves with the flag, it is those on the conservative side of the spectrum that have most wrapped themselves in it.
But how can something be held as sacred when it is used to wipe the grease from someone’s mouth, then crumpled up and thrown in a trash can? Or be left on a vehicle, exposed to the elements, allowed to fade, weather and peel? When it’s worn as underwear?
***
The U.S. flag is not just red, white and blue, nor just stars and stripes.
Per the Library of Congress, “the Federal specification DDD-F-416F provides the standards and technical guidance for the U.S. national flag’s design and construction- from its proportions to the proper fabrics and thread. Standards also specify three particular colors: Old Glory Red, White and Old Glory Blue, which can be found in The Standard Color Reference of America.
Most people are not familiar with the specifics of how a U.S. flag should be constructed, but a good number are familiar with the U.S. Flag Code.
Preserving the sanctity of the flag was the basis for the creation of the flag code, and why it was eventually adopted by Congress in 1942. The germ of the concept was “led by Civil War veterans who wanted to uphold the sacred character of the national emblem they had fought to defend.” Per historian Adam Goodheart, this meaning was initiated by Major Robert Anderson's fight in defense of the flag at the Battle of Fort Sumter at the start of the Civil War. During the war the flag was used throughout the Union to symbolize American nationalism and rejection of secessionism and, ultimately, patriotism.
Before that day, the flag had served mostly as a military ensign or a convenient marking of American territory ... and displayed on special occasions like the Fourth of July. But in the weeks after Major Anderson's surprising stand, it became something different. Suddenly the Stars and Stripes flew ... from houses, from storefronts, from churches; above the village greens and college quads. ... [T]hat old flag meant something new. The abstraction of the Union cause was transfigured into a physical thing: strips of cloth that millions of people would fight for, and many thousands die for.
Adam Goodheart, 1861: The Civil War Awakening
The flag code’s primary purpose was to eliminate its use in commercial and political advertisements. Ironically, abolitionists sought to numerate the proper use of the flag because of its presence at slave selling lots and other events associated with slavery. It’s worth noting here that Francis Scott Keys’ original draft of The Star Spangled Banner criticizes those slaves who had escaped their colonial American owners to fight for the British:
No refuge could save the hireling and slave / From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave.
Adoption of the flag code was eventually followed by congressional attempts to prohibit flag burning that had become common as acts of protest in the 1960s (ironic given that burning is the only acceptable way to dispose of a flag, per the U.S. Flag Code).
Of course, these legislative attempts and any laws that sought to limit the use were eventually struck down by the U.S. Supreme Court on the basis of freedom of speech. There have been attempts in Congress to bring a constitutional amendment that would prohibit flag burning as well as many of the uses abhorred in the flag code, but none have been successful.
As it is, the flag code remains a code of etiquette and tradition.
***
One of the photographs included in this series depicts a young man carrying a flag in the style of the U.S. flag—the blue canton with stars—but with the rainbow colors of the Pride flag instead of the red and white stripes. I took this photo at a Pride parade in the Tri-Cities of Washington, a historically conservative region. An online comment on the photo decried the profane use of the flag to represent something so counter to its values.
And yet, I’m fairly confident the same individual could be using the flag as a bumper sticker, would have no issue if he saw a family member using it as swim trunks, or heard of someone using the flag as a tool of political demagoguery (so long as the politics were akin to his).
This brings me back to Auslander and his trouble with being named after God.
Eventually, he began writing his name in a modified fashion with an apostrophe that rendered it “different” from the name of God. His name remained Shalom; writing it in this new way did not change it or its meaning. But the use of a special character rendered it mundane enough that no longer everything he wrote his modified name upon need be discarded through prescribed ritual practice. Ironically, this sudden easing of his near daily burden and the focusing of his teacher’s dogmatic orthodoxy on another student with a name similar to his own leaves Auslander annoyed and jealous.
...instead of feeling relieved that someone else in our classroom would share the burden of a holy name, I was disappointed. It was a pain in the ass being named God. But it was my pain. And it was my ass.
Auslander accompanies the student to perform the same ritual disposal of a test paper that he has had to do numerous times.
As we walked toward the prayer hall, I remembered that Rabbi Breyer told us that Moses had killed an Egyptian by uttering the name of God.
Shlomo pushed his way in front of me and hurried to the Shaimos Box. ‘Adonai,’ I whispered. Nothing. ‘Yahweh,’ I said. Nothing. I couldn't bear to watch him violating my Shaimos Box, so I turned and headed back to class, Shlomo running behind me, trying to keep up, using my name in vain, and calling, ‘Shalom, Shalom, wait up,’ as I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered, one last time, ‘Elohim.’ Nothing.
Unlike for Auslander, many Americans don’t need an authority figure to absolve themselves of the burdensome sanctity of the U.S. flag. As long as they believe they are acting appropriately or the people they support are acting appropriately, how they use the flag is always proper, always sacred. But should another American—someone they don’t identify with, someone they don’t agree with, someone who is not them—use the flag similarly, it is not only a violation of etiquette, it is sacrilege.
Thankfully, just as with Auslander, no matter how much they wish and pray for God to strike down those opposed to them using the nation’s symbols in a manner they also have, it is fruitless. Now we just have to hope they don’t become enabled to physically carry out those prayers themselves.
Coming in next week’s newsletter…
Another instance of when my professional career intersected with queer expression, and how I decided to buck the standard.
Thanks for this.
I live in a small town, high desert plateau, not far from about 10,000 humans, but very far from all the rest of my species. And flags are something that kind of get under my skin.
As a baby geezer, now 60, I bristle when I see people altering the flag to use it as a billboard for whatever their pet cause happens to be. There is the washed out, desaturated version, grays and white, which I’ve been told by my son is a message to law-enforcement: if you mess with me, you will die. There is the thin blue line across the center of the red and white stripes or a red line, if you want to let people know that you are moved by the fire department more than the by police department, or the line that is half of each. There are depictions of the American flag, tattered and burned, displaying how real Patriots are rising from the flames of lesser Americans’ assaults on their supposed traditions. Trump flags the size of pickup trucks fly in front of homes and businesses alike. And in front of two or three properties, there is the American flag with the rainbow instead of red and white stripes.
I try to reconcile my pleasure at seeing the latter, with my explanation for displeasure at all the former examples: I feel like we’re not supposed to defile the flag by altering it, like a middle schoolers notebook, having been raised with the flag code in my midst. But I’m probably, to a large extent, more reacting to the content than the means of expressing the content. I probably don’t really mind when the flag is cheerfully altered to support me and my people; I do mind it for everybody else’s selfish expression of their favorite cause. Yes, I reckon I’ve got some hypocrisy running through me.