You know that trope in a romantic comedy when a girl thinks her boyfriend is about to propose but instead he breaks up with her and it turns out he's done/been doing something so vile that he's not even the person she thought he was in the first place? That's what Tuesday (which by the way, was my fucking birthday) felt like. Except it wasn't a rom com. It was real life. And it wasn't just happening to me. It was happening to everyone around me. There's no sassy best friend to show up with ice cream, we all have to be each other's sassy best friend.
I am heartbroken in a way I have never been before. Just as our country has no roadmap for what's about to happen, I have no roadmap for what my life is under this new reality. My identity is forged around elections, empowering women to engage politically, and believing in the arc of the moral universe. We elected a misogynist/accused rapist over the most qualified woman in history. Where do I go from here? What does it say about my fellow white women that on average we care more about preserving our privilege and our fear than our own empowerment and that of our sisters? Two weeks ago I cried with gratitude and reverence each time I read the stories of grandmothers born before women's suffrage who were voting for a woman for president. Now I'm crying because I realize I might be those grandmothers before I feel this close to the precipice of equality again; a nonagenarian whose grandchildren take her rickety ass to the polls. "She's been waiting for this ever since she volunteered for Hillary Clinton," they'll say.
For the most part, I've been avoiding social contact. I'd like to tell you it's because I'm taking part in radical self-care or plotting the new Feminist agenda but the truth is I don't know how to be myself in the world right now. The moral arc is so much longer than I ever anticipated. Social media is wave after wave of anxiety inducing reminder of exactly what these next four years will be, self-righteous Monday morning quarterbacking as if ANYBODY saw this coming, and friends whose pledges to fight on only make me ashamed of my own inability to answer, "what's next?"
I don't know. If you want think pieces about whether Bernie Sanders could have won or whether Trump means what he says or which segment of the population is most culpable for Hillary Clinton's loss you can find them, just sign on to Twitter. After commenting my way through six years of elections I feel compelled to say something, yet every time I sign on to Facebook to an "ok folks here's my take on the election," I sign right off again. I don't want to add to the cacophony just for the sake of being on record. There is nothing that hasn't been said. Besides, I'm still reeling too much to crystalize exactly what I'd want to express anyway.
More than anything, I always strive for this blog to be what I would have needed in a given moment, so that's what these next couple of posts are going to be about--just whatever is making me feel better. Like I said, the moral arc really isn't doing it for me right now, but there is a Martin Luther King quote that I've been finding comfort in lately. It's the best I can promise myself right now.
With this faith I will go out and carve a tunnel of hope through the mountain of despair. With this faith, I will go out with you and transform dark yesterdays into bright tomorrows.(More than ever) Campaign Love and Mine,
Nancy
