Tuesday was the U.S. presidential election. We discovered the results overnight. Most of the people I knew spent Wednesday either sad, outraged, or afraid. I was planning to blog today about my feelings concerning the outcome, but an opinion piece in The New Yorker summed up my feelings with all the elegance I was sorely lacking in my reflection of this past election’s shitshow. So instead of paraphrasing or quoting, here’s the whole piece. Read it and you’ll know exactly how I feel.
As I sit down to write this blog entry, I’ve had a day to process all of the aforementioned sadness, outrage, and fear, alongside my disappointment and frustration. I did what I could. I played the game and cast my vote, but my team lost. I could rage and shout, point fingers at opponents, and further drive a wedge between the two halves of America that were so bitterly pitted against one another this past year. But I’m so tired of all that. I’m weary of the hateful rhetoric and fear-mongering. There’s a strong chance we’re going to see much more of this garbage over the next four years, and I refuse to participate in spreading this toxic cloud. Instead I choose to do what I have always done: embrace love and compassion, and use it as a tool against hatred.
This is a time to stand together with those who are genuinely scared for their future. This is a time to look at those who are suffering and say “your suffering is my suffering and we will overcome it.” This is a time not to clench your fist, but to offer your hand. I still genuinely believe that people are only doing their best to be good, and that love trumps hate in the end. Call my hopes naive or childish if you like, but sometimes hope is all we have when others forget that what we really have is one another.
There is revulsion and profound anxiety in my heart, but there is also hope and love… and I have a feeling it’s going to be truly put to the test.