The Politics of Grief

I haven’t written much in quite some time.  I’ve been preoccupied with the election, and, more importantly, I’ve felt empty.  I think this was a direct result of all the hatred and negativity I’ve been hearing and reading and watching over the past 18 months or so.  I did write a piece about how proud I was to be part of history, watching a woman become America’s first president, but alas, that was premature and presumptive of me, and I am thankful I didn’t post it anywhere.  Instead I find I am part of the history which elected the first openly racist, bigoted, misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, disrespectful, narcissistic, hateful man I have ever seen in my lifetime, with the exception, perhaps, of the likes of a David Duke, once the grand poo-pah of the KKK.  Trump is abhorrent on so many levels, and yet now I am being asked, by his supporters, to follow him blindly, and to respect him and the office he will soon hold.  I cannot.  I cannot respect anyone who promulgates hatred, and I am having an incredibly hard time respecting anyone who voted for him.  They may have wanted change, and I get that, but what you see is what you get. The changes we are destined to see may not, in fact, be the changes those who feel disenfranchised and marginalized may have been hoping for.  When one person claims, loudly and clearly and repeatedly, that they alone can fix all our woes, be wary.  This is not a person concerned about your welfare, or your pocket change.  He will continue to get richer and more powerful and more condescending, and the masses will fall backwards, with no safety net, arms and legs flailing, wondering where they went wrong.

Regardless, the truth and reality is this:  it is what it is and I cannot change it, nor can I change my feelings about it, or the grief and fear I am experiencing.  I feel deflated and lost and perhaps even more empty than before the election.  I will do what I can to protect myself, my family, my friends and co-workers, and anyone else threatened by the policies of this new administration.  Clearly it does not support me, so I, too, feel vulnerable.  I am a woman.  I am pro-choice.  I am gay.  I have friends of many shades of color, and I worry for them.  I am not interested in anyone’s religion, or lack thereof.  I believe only in humanity.  I am concerned for our environment and for all the creatures which inhabit it with us.  And while I fervently believe love trumps hate, I also know, deep down, that hate can cause irreparable damage.  While our love struggles to be heard on the sidelines, crying out for us all to come to our senses, it will easily be drowned out by the vile and unrelenting screams of hatred.

Maybe I’m all wrong.  If so, in four years – or even sooner if it becomes evident that I am misguided in my thoughts – I will gladly admit the error of my ways and wipe the egg off my face.  I would like to be wrong.  Nothing I would like better.  But I suspect that will not be the case.  So I will go through my stages of grief, and work toward reconciling my mind with reality.  Come January 20th, 2017, and beyond, I will look for the love and compassion for all Americans to come out of the White House.  I will hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.  And for anyone caught in the crosshairs of hatred, I will stand with you.  We are, in fact, stronger together.

~ jwb ~