I try to keep an open mind about a great many things. I never got involved with the great green-peas-in-guacamole debate of 2014, for example. I am agnostic about jeggings. I know that people are different, with different tastes and beliefs, and the warp against the weft is what makes us interesting.
In the past, I’ve been able to stay that way about politics. I had a side, and I believed my side was right, naturally, but I could also understand the other side. On Twitter I enjoyed sharing political cartoons lampooning the politicians I despised as much as any twitterholic. But I understood it when I saw a cartoon of Obama or Biden, an image that made them look strident or ugly or stupid. I shared the same caricatured images of Boehner and Bush. As humans, we categorize things, we make fun of things we disagree with. I believe in democracy. When Gee Dub won (even though he lost the popular vote), I was devastated, but not this way.
Then, we still had a balance of power in POTUS, Senate and House, or least a semblance of it. There were checks and balances.
Tuesday, we lost all that.
I thought of those cartoons that always look the same no matter who’s being lampooned: floppy mouth, raisin eyes, angry arms. I thought to myself, maybe I’m overreacting. In politics, we always think the ones we oppose are monstrous, when in reality, they’re just politicians, as prone to fits of joy or slips of corruption as the rest of us. We think we’re better—but we’re not. We just have different beliefs, based on different teachings or books.
But this time it is different.
***
We had a few people over to watch the returns on Tuesday night. We didn’t invite many. We only bought two bottles of champagne.
Yesterday I took those bottles out of the fridge, unopened, and put them in the wine rack.
I swear to god, those unopened bottles hold my heart.
Champagne triggers my migraines sometimes, and yet I couldn’t wait to taste the bubbles on my lips, to know that a woman I believe in, a woman I respect so mightily, was going to be the leader of our nation.
The wrong team won.
Hillary has faults, yes. She’s a politician; of course she has faults. (Could I run for that office? Could you? Hell, no. And I don’t give a fuck about her emails.)
This isn’t just about the wrong team winning. If a normal career politician, a regular right-wing rednecked good-old boy had won, I would be heartily disappointed. I would have cried.
But I would have been able to hold this in my mind: We all think we’re right. We’re all a little wrong about that. We’ll limp through. We’ll be okay.
Trump and Pence are different.
Everything has changed, and we are entering revolution.
They want to strip the rights of minorities, immigrants, the disabled, the poor, and the LGBTQ. In a country based on systemic racism, a country just beginning a third, vastly-needed civil rights movement, they want to silence the few voices brave enough to shout the oppression. Not only that, but with the House and Senate behind them, they will start wars against other countries and against our environment—wars we can’t win. Period.
How did this happen?
Here’s how: The undecideds weren’t undecided. Those one in four who said they weren’t sure? They were closeted. They knew enough to understand they shouldn’t tell anyone they were voting for Trump. They knew enough to be ashamed. But in the ballot booth, alone, quietly, they voted for the white supremacist candidate.
David Duke and the KKK were elated by the win (this alone is eternally damning). Every totalitarian regime rejoiced on Wednesday. Russian leaders literally cheered when Trump won (PRI).
Hatred has been given validity.
Violence is now acceptable.
With more than half the population voting against hate, we still lost.
You have to know this: my wife and I are now scared to leave the house. We live in the Bay Area in a liberal state, and we’re still terrified to hold hands in public. And we’re privileged. We’re white. We’re still scared out of our skulls, and we ain’t got nothin’ on how POC are feeling (and have been feeling).
This week we mourn. We find community. We eat with friends. We spend our money close to home, in small businesses we care about. We pray. We meditate. We cry.
Next week?
We rise.
How? I have no freaking idea. Not yet. We’re still mourning. I’m numb, the way I always get during storms of grief.
But in our house, we know this:
- Even with half the income we had last year, we’re tightening belts and just set up monthly donations to Planned Parenthood and the ACLU.
- We will attend every demonstration we can.
- We don’t have kids—we can be arrested (oh, the dogs would be so pissed off at that).
- We will listen more than we talk.
- We will talk with those who need to be heard most.
On Wednesday, I was so upset I walked the dogs with the express intention to meet a neighbor (any neighbor, I didn’t care) and talk about it. In my Oakland neighborhood, we are good at waving. We’re not always so good at talking.
An older black woman I’d never spoken to was sitting on her porch, watching her husband wash the car. I halted the dogs and stopped on the sidewalk.
“How are you?” I asked.
She waved her hand politely. “Oh, fine, fine.”
“No. How are you? Because I’m completely devastated and I was wondering how you felt.”
She looked at me in astonishment. “I’m not surprised. But it’s so terrible I can’t bear it.”
We talked for twenty minutes. I tried to listen more than I spoke. Miss Mary E. and I are friends now. She asked what my car and house looked like because now “I can come knock if I need you.”
My parents raised me on picket lines. I knew every verse to We Shall Overcome before I knew the names of the Disney princesses. I truly believe that my New Zealander mother, who never had the slightest interest in becoming a US citizen, would have finally become a citizen after 35 years of residence in order to vote against Trump.
I won’t let her down.
I will do my part.
I will write.
I will march.
I will listen.
I will lift up.
What will you do?
all my love,
Rachael
- I know I’ll get plenty of hate mail and unsubscribes from this letter. That’s okay. If we disagree on this, you won’t enjoy my books.
- Speaking of that, if you do agree with me, please consider sharing this letter to make up for those hate arrows that were just lobbed, on fire, in my direction.
- Lena Dunham’s letter on this is much better than my own. Go have a read, and subscribe.
- Solidarity? Wear a safety pin. It seems silly until you wear it in small-town Mississippi.
Thank you for this. I’m still processing and trying to figure out how to fight. I live in small town Mississippi and I have my safety pin on proudly. So tired of all the hate and hypocrisy.
All the yeses, Rachael. All the yeses.
Thank you for this. <3
Beautiful Rachel.
Oops sorry. Rachael I mean!
Very well thought out essay.
I was given what I feel was very good advice when I expressed my dismay over the election to friends. They advocated working quietly and calmly for change. AND they suggested whispers draw much more attention than strident shouts. My guess is there will be plenty of shouts to be ignored in the coming days.
I could not agree more with what you said. The racism, sexism, and bigotry against Muslims and LGBT community disturb me more than I can bear. I also want to say that since the affordable care act will be dismantled the stress on myself, my husband and others like us is extreme. He is in the hospital right now for heart surgery and his life was literally saved by the ACA. The thought of possibly losing our insurance in January scares me and keeps me up at night. To make even worse my entire family voted for Trump seemingly not considering the consequences. Since I live in Texas, most of the people around me don’t care either. I think that we must reach out as you said, and try to make a new family of people that aren’t necessarily related to us, who aren’t bigots, and believe in the need for us to take care of each other.
Thank you. And yes, those are tears. A lot of them. I don’t seem to be able to stop. The only note of optimism I’ve heard (besides idiotic platitudes of “oh, it’ll be all right, just calm down”) have been words from a friend of my daughter’s, who said that it’s so hard to fight racism, sexism, bigotry, etc when it’s hidden away and the surface is smooth and pretty. It’s hidden behind platitudes when we hear that we should be ‘colorblind’ and everyone should just get along, and ‘all lives really do matter (well, when black lives matter, that’s the day that one will be true)
Now at least it’s out in the open and easier to face down.
THANKS FOR THIS RACHEL. I loved a lot of things about this essay, but especially the part where you talked about the conversation you had with your neighbour. There are many, many ways to fight injustice and hatred, big ways and small ways. Personally, I like the idea of starting in your own backyard. Allies are everywhere, we just need to find each other. Much love to you and your wife as you make it through these early days and weeks. You have friends in the North (writing and reading from Canada) <3
Loved this. Thnak you for posting it.
I’m right there next to you. I’ve reached out to my friends so they know I’m there as a friend and as a protector if need be. For Christmas, I’m asking my loved ones to donate to the ACLU and Southern Poverty Law Center.
Thank you, Rachael. Thank you. I am so afraid of what comes next. And reading knitting blogs, usually a solace, feels surreal to me this week when there is no mention of this election and the potential for full-on fascism. People who are willing and able to stand up give me hope that we can face down the tyrant in the end.
Thank you so much. This is so much how I feel and the desperate need to do something – exactly that. I teach school in Texas, and I have students who now live in fear of deportation, have fear of violence because they are OTHER. Love the safety pin idea and the funneling of moneys to what likely will be defunded. Thank you for speaking up.
Words still have difficulty making it past the tears. I met with the monthly knitting group for the first time since the election. There were a lot of tears and tight hugs and a consensus that we didn’t know what to do-yet-but we would do it together. One of the group shared this wonderful essay by Clarissa Pinkola Estes: We Were Made For These Times, which gave comfort and support. I forwarded it to my friends. One responded that her Unitarian minister had read the piece in church today and based her sermon on it!
People have found their voice. People are talking to each other. People are committing.
I stand with you. I stand with La-la. I wi
stand with your friends for I think of them as my friends too.
A wall has been built of words and fear. It’s coming down…brick by metaphorical brick.
Had the odd timing of leaving for a cruise last Wednesday so was disconnected a bit which really felt weird. Still so sad and angry and thinking about how to move forward.
I live in Silicon Valley and one of my husband’s co-workers told him, two days after the election, that she (note the pronoun) had been called the n word half a dozen times since the results had been called.
We are so much better than this. Thank you for what you wrote.
My daughter reports that a nurse at her local hospital was walking around with a box and handing out pins to everyone who might want one. Yes!
As a U.S. citizen who has lived in Canada for 41 years and who still retains her U.S. citizenship along with Canadian permanent resident status, after this election, I will be filling out my application for Canadian citizenship finally. It’s been sitting in my desk drawer for 2 years and I just haven’t been motivated to send it in. Now I am. I’m concerned for all people south of our shared border.
I know that the U.S. has needed change for sometime and that citizens and residents need to expect only what they work for but I cannot believe that so many voted for this man.
There was a piece on our national radio station this morning about the concerned fruit growers in California not having enough people to harvest their crops if skilled but undocumented workers are not allowed in during harvest time. And yet so many people cry about not being able to find employment. Do they expect jobs to fall in their laps? People need to go where the work is. So many do not realize this.
Rachel, thank you for your thought provoking blog. I started to follow you years ago because of your knitting and have read your books when I need some romance. Now I find your points of view interesting and refreshing. Be safe. No one should have to fear going out in their neighborhood but I know many do.
Rachel, I’m writing this almost six months after you posted this. I’m struck by how much of what you (and all of us) thought would happen has come to pass. However, I take heart in seeing the one good thing to come from that ugly election: the resistance. The Indivisible Project. Alt-National Parks (and all of the other alt-groups). People are talking where they might have remained silent before. In “town hall meetings,” protests, and other places, people are standing up. We can do this. We must.