Oof. This one hurts.
I can sit here and hope it’s not real, hope that he stole it, like he accused the president before him of doing.
I can hope the math people doing the math can figure out why tens and hundreds of thousands of people in the swing states voted for him and no one else on their ballot while electing progressive, blue candidates.
I can hope his big secret involves links to that disgusting billionaire and his voting machines, and fraudulent activity like none before.
I can hope for the change our country—our world—so sorely needs.
I can hope.
I can also recognize the hard truth, that there are people in this country who would rather see me, and all queer people, dead than alive. Who would rather see the women in their lives at home, raising children to worship Agent Orange, the Bible, and guns (in that order). Who would rather see people of color forced to work fields and farmland through a prison system built to legalize their slavery. Who would rather see an incompetent dictator in charge of the nuclear codes than someone who is intelligent, empathetic, and qualified, because that person is a woman, and a woman of color.
I can see the people who equally spout off about loving each other while voting for the party who only loves the cishet Christian patriarchy. People who aren’t part of it and will never be welcome in it, but voted for it nonetheless. The same people who vote for a candidate that says they’re a leopard and they’re going to eat your face, then become shocked when the leopard eats their face.
I see the hats, the flags, the pictures as they stormed the Capitol in 2021. I hear their words, their promises, and their glee as they erode away the rights of women, people of color, and the queer community. I feel every feeling imaginable, and equally numb as time continues to flow, betraying my desires for just a moment, a second to catch my breath, to find joy in the moment, to feel safe.
But I also know the safety I’ve felt in the past is a lie. I’ve never truly been safe. As long as there are people in positions of power who desire nothing but to erase me from existence, I’ll never be safe. I can surround myself with community, and people who love and embrace me, who simply want me to thrive, and I still won’t be safe. Not in my city. Not in my state. Not in my country.
So, I must resign myself to the truth, and accept the facts, whether I want to or not. I need to accept what is, and what I can’t change. Some people change their hearts and minds, but I haven’t been the one to do so (at least, I don’t think I have). I want to change the things I can’t accept, however, and that’s where the conflict comes into play. I want people to live and let live.
My choices for my life don’t affect other people most of the time. And if they do, I do my best to be mindful of those effects. If I throw trash on the ground, I know someone will have to pick it up, or it will blow around in the breeze and contribute to litter in the city. So, I throw trash in the garbage. Recycle what I can and when I can. Basically do my best to be a contributing member of society in the small ways I can. Why isn’t that enough for some people?
I’m working on moving forward. Making plans in worst-case scenarios, and doing my best to show my loved ones I love them, and support them the very best I can. I’m also continuing my writing and making plans for next year’s events I’ll be attending. Forward movement.
I’m doing what I can, and that’s all I can do. All we can do. I know I’m not alone, and that brings me comfort in the darkest times. I hope it brings you comfort, too. You’re not alone.