Wednesday, November 9, 2016

this is my angry post.

This is the one where I'm just going to be angry. Not unifying or healing or advocating or moving forward or "classy" (eye roll). Probably not even thorough or sensical. Just fucking angry.

I've done my best to refrain from replying to anything on social media. I'm not going to change anyone's mind via Facebook (except maybe that one chick who discovered that actually, yes, abortions DO save women's lives, that's not just "liberal media rhetoric"). But this...hurts. It hurts my heart and my head to see what some of you actually believe and support, to learn that you are knowingly ignorant, to read your actual words claiming that you are happy to hide behind your cloak of faith, regardless of who that hurts. So no, I'm not going to fan the flames on your Facebook feed, but here's a small sampling of what I've wanted to say.

I'm all done with Trump voters claiming that you're not racist/sexist/xenophobic/homophobic. What, exactly, is the difference between being racist/sexist/xenophobic/homophobic, and "just" supporting someone who made promises to promote those paradigms? "I don't agree with him on that," you huff. "I'm not racist; I just voted for him because he's pro-life." Do not be mistaken: If you voted for him, you voted into office his ideals. You are promoting all of it. The wall. The narrowing of women's rights. The ethnic cleansing. The right to grab me or you or my daughter by our pussies. Yes, you are part of the problem. Yes, you are promoting the problem. Yes, you ARE the problem.

And those of you who are just so disappointed by people's emotional reactions today, because we just need to come together and move forward as a united front? Yeah, no. If Hillary had won, would you be happily supporting her and joining hands across the aisle? You fucking wouldn't. Your own candidate said he wouldn't, either, when he said he wouldn't necessarily accept the results of the election if Hillary won. Also: your candidate does not believe in coming together and being united. Trump's goal, as he has not only overtly stated but also personally demonstrated over and over and over again, is to marginalize those who are different or in the minority. He often switches up the flavors of difference he wants to dispose of, but his model is not one of unity. So, you know. Give us a minute to put aside our fear and shame and disbelief before we're ready to be united. And please, please don't waste your fucking breath telling me that the "classy" move is to support Trump simply because he'll be the president. I refuse to support hatred. He doesn't reflect what the majority of Americans want; the electoral college voted him in, not the people. And (like I read somewhere else today) - aren't those of you dictating that we be classy the exact same people who purposefully blocked President Obama at EVERY turn for the last eight years? "Classy" means nothing in a society plagued by class segregation.

Also? I have zero sympathy for those of you who whined about how very hard it was to publicly support Trump throughout his campaign. Actually, negative sympathy. Aww, did someone scrape off your Trump bumper sticker? Oh, boohoo, did someone call you out for supporting and promoting racism, or question how you could vote for Trump as a woman? Fucking wah-wah. Hello, welcome to life as an outsider. I have friends who are flicked off (or shoved, or shot) for holding hands with their same-sex partner in public. I read about a friend's Mexican-American niece who fled her high school this morning as her classmates chanted, "Build a wall, build a wall." I have friends who, during a family visit to the zoo, had a dirty diaper smeared on their car because they are lesbians. I have friends who worry every single day when they walk around because maybe their skin is too brown or their bellies are too large or their wallet isn't fat enough or their hoodie is too threatening - they worry that they'll be judged (at best) or killed (at worst). Was that hard for you, then, when someone gave you a dirty look because of your Trump lapel pin? Good. Maybe you'll take that and learn from it.

I'm not perfect. No one is. Not Trump, not Hillary, not Bernie, not Obama. Maybe Mr. Rogers was, which is probably why he never pursued politics. Either way, because I know I'm not perfect, I'm going to do my best to stay open-minded. Not because I owe that to Trump, but because I owe it to my daughter, and to myself, and to everyone in my life whose rights, livelihoods, and lives are directly threatened by Trump's campaign promises. 

I want to tell Hillary that it's not her; it's us. We failed her. She's been working her ass off for this for decades, and not enough of us did enough to meet her there. She shattered the glass ceiling, and we covered our eyes while a rich white dude ordered it reconstructed. Right now, I'm so, so ashamed of myself for believing in the bubble. If that's not taking advantage of my privilege, I don't know what is. It is shameful.

I hope I can find effective ways to enact the ideals of common decency once the shock and grieving have subsided, but I'm just not there. No, this is just my angry post. When I get there, though, this is what I want to remember:

On Monday, I explained voting to Rowan, who just turned three. We were driving and talking about what we were going to do the next day, which was Election Day. I told her we'd be going to a school to share our votes, and that it was our job to pick someone to be a new country leader who helped people feel kind, loved, and safe. I was ready to leave it at that. She was quiet for a minute and then said, "So we want to vote for someone who follows the rules of our house!" Uh, yes. Exactly. And in our house, we believe in kindness; in making sure the least among us are cared for; in making our voices heard, even if they're shaking (or "shrill"); in science and research; in questions and curiosity; in hope over fear; in the importance of welcoming and celebrating difference; and in equality. In our house, my daughter is valued as a whole person, not as a commodity. In our house, we believe that Black lives matter. In our house, we teach our daughter to smash the patriarchy, because (in the words of HRC), "When there are no ceilings, the sky's the limit." 

And in our house, we believe that action creates change. So once I'm done wallowing in anger, I really hope I can embody the rules of our house and be the model of leadership my daughter is going to need. And that I'm going to need. I'm at least thankful for the wake-up call that no one else can make it happen for me.

It has to be me. It has to be us.



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