Fans

It is human nature to want to belong. I feed off the frenzied energy of a crowd of fans, whether I’m seeing Johnny Marr at a little casino venue with about 100 other 49-year-olds, or in line to get my favorite author to sign their latest book, or at my 8th-grader’s choir performance. It feels good to get outside your head every once in a while, to look around and notice that others care about the same things you do. You are not alone. That’s a powerful feeling.

It’s wholesome. 

It makes me smile when I see a region of over a million citizens who can’t agree on politics, religion, or barbecue come together in spirit for this year’s Super Bowl contenders, The Kansas City Chiefs. Everybody from babies to grandmas are adorably dressed from head to toe in Chiefs merchandise. 

What I don’t like about living in Kansas City on the day the Chiefs are at the Super Bowl is the Tomahawk Chop. The racist tropes. The headdresses and the war paint fans wear in the stadium as they watch their team defeat the other side. Us vs Them. I like the unity that grows out of professional football. I don’t like the divisiveness. I do not like that our team name insults an entire group of people whose ancestors lived on this continent before mine did, before many of yours did, before the game of football was invented. It’s disrespectful and divisive and goes against our group dynamic. 

I am rooting for the Chiefs today. Even more so, I am rooting for people in our community to come together to respectfully cheer on our team in a way that doesn’t offend our neighbors of Native American heritage.