I wrote a tweet this morning criticizing the current crop of so-called "religious freedom" legislation. If you're interested, it was going to say something like: "religious freedom means you get to choose your religious beliefs, it doesn't mean you get to discriminate against those who disagree," possibly to be followed up by one saying something like "if you are opposed to same-sex marriage, don't do it" -- a thought I borrowed more or less from Dan Savage, author of American Savage.
But I ended up not tweeting it, and here is the strange thing. It wasn't because I was worried I would offend my conservative followers. It will come as no surprise to any of them that I hold the typical liberal opinions, including support for gay marriage.
No, I didn't click on the "Tweet" button because I was worried about other liberals. It's a damn tricky thing to be a liberal these days. You can have the best of intentions, have your heart in the right place, have your liberal voting record framed, shined, and hanging up in plain view, but if you phrase your opinion even slightly wrong, all the ferocity of the politically correct thought police will come flaming down upon your head.
Of course, there is very little chance that one of my tweets will be noticed by anybody outside of my (thankfully) forgiving and supportive group of friends. But there's enough of a chance that after deliberating for a few minutes, I finally decided it wasn't worth the risk. I hang out on Twitter some, on Facebook a little more (since three of my favorite groups of women are hosted there), but for the most part I am a social media ignoramus. I'm just not savvy enough to make sure I say the right thing.
So I didn't say anything. And that is a sad commentary on the current state of American liberalism, which is after all, the arena where we should be encouraged and supported in being our unique, diverse, sometimes clumsy, selves.