November 9th: A Reflection and Revolution

I am heartbroken. Crushed to the core. Bones are heavy with sorrow. Soul weighed down with fear. This election was a weird one, emotionally and spiritually. The manner in which Trump continues to talk about women brings flashbacks to my experience of sexual assault- feeling so small and insignificant and out of control. Spiritually, I hurt for the way in which the Church is grossly divided and I really can’t align with it right now. The way fear spread like wildfire was a smack in the face of what’s at the core of this country. This is a somber reminder that America is built on racism, fear, and discrimination. But I had such shinny hope that there was change happening! Obama is in office! Gay marriage is legal! The working class have healthcare! We’re making progress.

But also when I think of the heartbreak I experienced watching video after video of young black boys and men being gunned down by those sworn to protect us, I shouldn’t be surprised. Fear continues to plague the streets of Chicago, the banks of Wall Street, and the hearts of those who make the laws.

I confess that this election made me look at my personal bias- I am much more a ‘woman-ist’ than feminist because I think women are way above men. We deserve our time at the top! Let’s crush the patriarchy and then sit on top of them, reviling in our victory and inflecting the pain and fear caused to us women. Make those men pay. This is the most vexing bias, personally, because I really don’t want to calm down or have equal power or be treated the same. I want to be better, stronger, and more respected than men ever were! So I’m working on this.

A giant tear to represent the fear and hurt of millions due to the election of Donald Trump

Additionally, I am just now learning of the full scope of intersectionality and how it affects millions of Americans in subtle yet very calculated ways. I am privileged to be a white, cis, able-bodied, non-convicted, Christian, educated, middle class woman with a passport from the USA. There’s no questioning what it means to be black and a woman, a woman with a disability, or a woman waiting for a green card. My personal experience of intersectionality is non-existent and as I listen to others’ stories- those of my friends’ or on podcasts- I felt burdened by this privilege to move, to act, to make sure the black trans woman is no longer the individual facing the highest about of domestic abuse, that the Mexican day laborer is making high enough wages to feed his family, and the young Muslim immigrant has affordable health care. And while I feel sympathy, I cannot personality empathize with a family fleeing from guerrilla warfare in Columbia who’s terrified if they will be deported. I am not afraid to leave my house and see racial slurs written on my car or have a cafeteria of children chant ‘build a wall’ as I sit and eat my lunch. Yet this is the reality that we’re created.

This loss is partly my fault. I didn’t share enough podcasts, post enough articles, or engage in tough, painful conversations. I shied away from meaningful discussions with my parents and relatives because I didn’t want to shake any feathers or make people uncomfortable. I didn’t ask friends outside of those who share the same worldview as me who they were voting for. I didn’t do my part and I’ve let immigrants, blacks, Mexicans, refugees, LGBTQ+, women, single mothers, disabled individuals, and all others’ sidelined by society down. Oh and this hurts- to know I didn’t fight as hard as I could have.

But I’m ready to act now. I have enough understanding that even if every person in my family voted for HRC, the outcome remains the same. This striking divide is rooted in the history of America- in the voter suppression, forced eugenics movement, and felon discrimination. So what’s there to do? Lots. Just so much.

First, start getting to know those you fear most. Tutor someone learning English, learn how to cook from a newly resettled refugee, volunteer to mentor a young student, share your talent of art, sports, cooking, reading with a local after school program, a school/work collection for food, winter coats, or furniture to donate to a refugee family, visit or donate to the North Dakota pipeline protest, or visit a place of worship that’s different that yours.

Educate yourself! Knowledge is power! Read Between the Worldand Me, Americanah, The New Jim Crow or Why Are All the Black Kids SittingTogether in the Cafeteria. Listen to podcasts. Write your senators and lobby for causes you care about. I will remember this feeling of hopelessness, confusion and hurt and allow it to propel me forward.  Grapple with the reality that America was built on systematic discrimination, dehumanization, and suppression AND that America exists and thrives even today. I’m still learning. Oh I have so much to learn. And in the midst of this learning and continued fight, I expect to uncover women of the past who’s stories will propel me forward. 

November 9th: A Reflection and Revolution

I am heartbroken. Crushed to the core. Bones are heavy with sorrow. Soul weighed down with fear. This election was a weird one, emotionally and spiritually. The manner in which Trump continues to talk about women brings flashbacks to my experience of sexual assault- feeling so small and insignificant and out of control. Spiritually, I hurt for the way in which the Church is grossly divided and I really can’t align with it right now. The way fear spread like wildfire was a smack in the face of what’s at the core of this country. This is a somber reminder that America is built on racism, fear, and discrimination. But I had such shinny hope that there was change happening! Obama is in office! Gay marriage is legal! The working class have healthcare! We’re making progress.

But also when I think of the heartbreak I experienced watching video after video of young black boys and men being gunned down by those sworn to protect us, I shouldn’t be surprised. Fear continues to plague the streets of Chicago, the banks of Wall Street, and the hearts of those who make the laws.

I confess that this election made me look at my personal bias- I am much more a ‘woman-ist’ than feminist because I think women are way above men. We deserve our time at the top! Let’s crush the patriarchy and then sit on top of them, reviling in our victory and inflecting the pain and fear caused to us women. Make those men pay. This is the most vexing bias, personally, because I really don’t want to calm down or have equal power or be treated the same. I want to be better, stronger, and more respected than men ever were! So I’m working on this.

A giant tear to represent the fear and hurt of millions due to the election of Donald Trump

Additionally, I am just now learning of the full scope of intersectionality and how it affects millions of Americans in subtle yet very calculated ways. I am privileged to be a white, cis, able-bodied, non-convicted, Christian, educated, middle class woman with a passport from the USA. There’s no questioning what it means to be black and a woman, a woman with a disability, or a woman waiting for a green card. My personal experience of intersectionality is non-existent and as I listen to others’ stories- those of my friends’ or on podcasts- I felt burdened by this privilege to move, to act, to make sure the black trans woman is no longer the individual facing the highest about of domestic abuse, that the Mexican day laborer is making high enough wages to feed his family, and the young Muslim immigrant has affordable health care. And while I feel sympathy, I cannot personality empathize with a family fleeing from guerrilla warfare in Columbia who’s terrified if they will be deported. I am not afraid to leave my house and see racial slurs written on my car or have a cafeteria of children chant ‘build a wall’ as I sit and eat my lunch. Yet this is the reality that we’re created.

This loss is partly my fault. I didn’t share enough podcasts, post enough articles, or engage in tough, painful conversations. I shied away from meaningful discussions with my parents and relatives because I didn’t want to shake any feathers or make people uncomfortable. I didn’t ask friends outside of those who share the same worldview as me who they were voting for. I didn’t do my part and I’ve let immigrants, blacks, Mexicans, refugees, LGBTQ+, women, single mothers, disabled individuals, and all others’ sidelined by society down. Oh and this hurts- to know I didn’t fight as hard as I could have.

But I’m ready to act now. I have enough understanding that even if every person in my family voted for HRC, the outcome remains the same. This striking divide is rooted in the history of America- in the voter suppression, forced eugenics movement, and felon discrimination. So what’s there to do? Lots. Just so much.

First, start getting to know those you fear most. Tutor someone learning English, learn how to cook from a newly resettled refugee, volunteer to mentor a young student, share your talent of art, sports, cooking, reading with a local after school program, a school/work collection for food, winter coats, or furniture to donate to a refugee family, visit or donate to the North Dakota pipeline protest, or visit a place of worship that’s different that yours.

Educate yourself! Knowledge is power! Read Between the Worldand Me, Americanah, The New Jim Crow or Why Are All the Black Kids SittingTogether in the Cafeteria. Listen to podcasts. Write your senators and lobby for causes you care about. I will remember this feeling of hopelessness, confusion and hurt and allow it to propel me forward.  Grapple with the reality that America was built on systematic discrimination, dehumanization, and suppression AND that America exists and thrives even today. I’m still learning. Oh I have so much to learn. And in the midst of this learning and continued fight, I expect to uncover women of the past who’s stories will propel me forward.