Now that I've had time to think about the election
And for that matter posted the exact same thing on facebook, but... in this case I'm going to cross post.
Hmm… you kept on with the post.
Well then.
I suppose this post is dedicated to a sobbing woman in 2008.
Obama had just become president. I had the odd pleasure of celebrating that my country had elected Obama to be my President, while simultaneously mourning that my California passed Proposition 8 - banning Gay Marriage in California. Yes, if you’ve looked at my profile picture, you perhaps know that I have certain political views.
Anyway, this unnamed to me woman was on the news weeping in the midst of a mournful crowd because Obama’s win meant, "This wasn't her country anymore." I doubt I could find all the images that came up at the time of similarly unhappy people.
But oh, nameless woman…
First let’s differentiate between being disappointed when a candidate I supported loses and whatever this is. The first is life living in a representational Republic, ballot measures that directly affect me pass or fail. Candidates win or lose. This isn’t that.
This election is a case of creating the peace that follows in the wars we fight. Trump beat the drum. He gets to deal with that just like everyone else. He wanted the job of President, now he’s got it. This is what that job comes with. His every word has consequences.
There’s talk about "Giving Trump a chance," but the marginalized and historically targeted can't actually afford to give someone "a chance". They have no chances to give.
Whether whoever is reading this acknowledges this or not, America has always had ugly aspects. Trails of Tears, Broken treaties, Slavery, Jim Crow, Lynchings, Sundown towns, Internment camps, Segregation, McCarthyism, parishioners studying the Bible at a Black Church gunned down, a Sikh man attacked because he’s wearing a turban, I could go on, but you get the idea. Or you won’t.
Perhaps, you’ve never come into your place of worship/spiritual refreshment to be greeted by the news that someone walked into one your fellow congregations and opened fire.
I have.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knoxville_Unitarian_Universalist_church_shooting
But, let’s not dwell.
America has beautiful aspects. I am free to speak. To assemble. To practice my religious beliefs. To pursue happiness. To wear a costume at Comic-Con that says, “Hey, have a great day whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving, ours is no caravan of despair.”
The reason I didn't sleep all last week after the election was because I was preparing for a conversation on Saturday with my Father. Because after the election, I realized I had done my father a disservice for the last 30 years. When I called this or that person a misogynist, when I called Trump a misogynist, that’s not what I meant. I protected him from certain truths of what life is like as a woman. I let him wrap himself in Patriotic Correctness. Because what I meant was a sexual predator. A misogynist acts like I’m an idiot. A sexual predator is unsafe to be alone with.
So, whatever the reason a person gave themselves for voting for Trump, they were also voting for man who openly boasted in a public work space about being a sexual predator. That he can (and if I never have to say the exact words to my father again it will be too soon) assault a woman because he’s famous. Whether or not you judge those words were important or not, locker room or not, those words, that vote, just told the sexual predators out there that this is not only okay to say or do, but saying and doing it will result in becoming president.
Things were already bad enough.
https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence
Even worse, if one in six women in America has been sexually assaulted (and that’s just what’s reported), that means that one in six of the women who voted for Trump have been assaulted. Leading into the election, I heard women who supported Trump dismissing the importance of their own assault. Normalizing it. Talking about it as if it were okay. Which… however they voted, makes me profoundly sad that as a society we’ve failed these women and failed to acknowledge that what they’ve been through is not okay. Because that is not my America.
Or rather, it’s not who or what I want America to be.
We've just elected a man who ran on a campaign platform that resulted in him being endorsed by the KKK and other white supremacy groups. That a key member of his campaign and now his chief strategist in the new administration openly promotes white supremacy. And I'm saying "White Supremacy" deliberately right now. Let’s not sugar coat this as “mere” racial bias. Trump banged the lid on the hornet’s nest. The nation’s answer was to open it up. I'm not okay with that. That is not my America.
That’s certainly not why my father and many people I care about voted for Trump, but not facing that there has been an increase in hate crimes won’t make them stop.
My parents told me to ignore bullies as a child. I’ve got to say that never actually worked. They just escalated.
This is BTW all without Trump needing to deliver on a single campaign promise. If he does net zero as president, he’s already accomplished this.
So, that's the reality. There's more I could list about future fears, but those are vapor that may or may not come to pass. But sobbing woman in 2008, I get you. You were scared. So am I.
But I'm not ending this post there. Because on Sunday, I went to church. I'm a UU, who have a long history of social justice work so...
For a variety of reasons, I visited my old congregation. Yes, it was on my mind that this was the same place that grieved for our fellow congregation in 2008.
There were hugs from people who still remembered me after all this time. There was a room full of people feeling the same grief that I was feeling. Comfort in the face of very real fears. That bad times may come, but there is still community. We, I, don’t have to consider myself alone.
Then the minister spoke. Someone different than when I was there. It has been five years. But she spoke my grief. More importantly, she spoke about how she now understood her calling to minister to this congregation.
Because in the midst of all the social media posts urging people to action, this or that petition, I've been pondering what action my God is calling me to make. (Yes, I claim a State, a Nation, a President and now God - what? These are personal relationships and need not impinge on your relationships). Because I have felt such an incredible call, but with no real sense of what that action needs to be.
For me, the first step was going to church. To clarify.
That after eight years of my President asking me to volunteer, be engaged, I'm oddly enough finally once again in a space where I have the time and mental space to volunteer.
In the short term, I think I'll once again check out the UU church in my city (well, after a vacation with Mom, because timing is a thing). Reroot myself in a community and faith tradition that supports the values I believe in and has a long history of peaceful agitation for them.
I'll be in SF for my work Christmas party. I'm thinking of spending the day volunteering at GLIDE.
So simple actions for right now. Maybe take off the day of the inauguration and volunteer at a local Food Bank like Second Harvest. Deeds and acts I can just walk into. Something that I know will help someone.
I can't speak to anyone else's call to action. Right now there’s a lot of agitation. I’ve read articles saying it will die down. Maybe it will. But… bullies don’t go away when you ignore them.
I don’t know if that grieving woman went on to join the Tea Party. Join the Alt-Right. Or if she went to church, cried a bit, and volunteered at a local charity to help people who’d lost their homes in the housing crisis. I don’t (and possibly will never know) what her call to action was. Or if she even answered it.
Just as I don’t know if I’ll fail this call. Let it fade. This post being its only sign. Decide Nineveh’s too rough a town. Get swallowed by a giant fish. No fire in its belly. Or if what will come of this be as simple as a greater engagement in my local community. Sort cans at a food bank every now and then. Be a drop of water. All the while waiting to see if it’s about to rain.
Hmm… you kept on with the post.
Well then.
I suppose this post is dedicated to a sobbing woman in 2008.
Obama had just become president. I had the odd pleasure of celebrating that my country had elected Obama to be my President, while simultaneously mourning that my California passed Proposition 8 - banning Gay Marriage in California. Yes, if you’ve looked at my profile picture, you perhaps know that I have certain political views.
Anyway, this unnamed to me woman was on the news weeping in the midst of a mournful crowd because Obama’s win meant, "This wasn't her country anymore." I doubt I could find all the images that came up at the time of similarly unhappy people.
But oh, nameless woman…
First let’s differentiate between being disappointed when a candidate I supported loses and whatever this is. The first is life living in a representational Republic, ballot measures that directly affect me pass or fail. Candidates win or lose. This isn’t that.
This election is a case of creating the peace that follows in the wars we fight. Trump beat the drum. He gets to deal with that just like everyone else. He wanted the job of President, now he’s got it. This is what that job comes with. His every word has consequences.
There’s talk about "Giving Trump a chance," but the marginalized and historically targeted can't actually afford to give someone "a chance". They have no chances to give.
Whether whoever is reading this acknowledges this or not, America has always had ugly aspects. Trails of Tears, Broken treaties, Slavery, Jim Crow, Lynchings, Sundown towns, Internment camps, Segregation, McCarthyism, parishioners studying the Bible at a Black Church gunned down, a Sikh man attacked because he’s wearing a turban, I could go on, but you get the idea. Or you won’t.
Perhaps, you’ve never come into your place of worship/spiritual refreshment to be greeted by the news that someone walked into one your fellow congregations and opened fire.
I have.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knoxville_Unitarian_Universalist_church_shooting
But, let’s not dwell.
America has beautiful aspects. I am free to speak. To assemble. To practice my religious beliefs. To pursue happiness. To wear a costume at Comic-Con that says, “Hey, have a great day whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving, ours is no caravan of despair.”
The reason I didn't sleep all last week after the election was because I was preparing for a conversation on Saturday with my Father. Because after the election, I realized I had done my father a disservice for the last 30 years. When I called this or that person a misogynist, when I called Trump a misogynist, that’s not what I meant. I protected him from certain truths of what life is like as a woman. I let him wrap himself in Patriotic Correctness. Because what I meant was a sexual predator. A misogynist acts like I’m an idiot. A sexual predator is unsafe to be alone with.
So, whatever the reason a person gave themselves for voting for Trump, they were also voting for man who openly boasted in a public work space about being a sexual predator. That he can (and if I never have to say the exact words to my father again it will be too soon) assault a woman because he’s famous. Whether or not you judge those words were important or not, locker room or not, those words, that vote, just told the sexual predators out there that this is not only okay to say or do, but saying and doing it will result in becoming president.
Things were already bad enough.
https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence
Even worse, if one in six women in America has been sexually assaulted (and that’s just what’s reported), that means that one in six of the women who voted for Trump have been assaulted. Leading into the election, I heard women who supported Trump dismissing the importance of their own assault. Normalizing it. Talking about it as if it were okay. Which… however they voted, makes me profoundly sad that as a society we’ve failed these women and failed to acknowledge that what they’ve been through is not okay. Because that is not my America.
Or rather, it’s not who or what I want America to be.
We've just elected a man who ran on a campaign platform that resulted in him being endorsed by the KKK and other white supremacy groups. That a key member of his campaign and now his chief strategist in the new administration openly promotes white supremacy. And I'm saying "White Supremacy" deliberately right now. Let’s not sugar coat this as “mere” racial bias. Trump banged the lid on the hornet’s nest. The nation’s answer was to open it up. I'm not okay with that. That is not my America.
That’s certainly not why my father and many people I care about voted for Trump, but not facing that there has been an increase in hate crimes won’t make them stop.
My parents told me to ignore bullies as a child. I’ve got to say that never actually worked. They just escalated.
This is BTW all without Trump needing to deliver on a single campaign promise. If he does net zero as president, he’s already accomplished this.
So, that's the reality. There's more I could list about future fears, but those are vapor that may or may not come to pass. But sobbing woman in 2008, I get you. You were scared. So am I.
But I'm not ending this post there. Because on Sunday, I went to church. I'm a UU, who have a long history of social justice work so...
For a variety of reasons, I visited my old congregation. Yes, it was on my mind that this was the same place that grieved for our fellow congregation in 2008.
There were hugs from people who still remembered me after all this time. There was a room full of people feeling the same grief that I was feeling. Comfort in the face of very real fears. That bad times may come, but there is still community. We, I, don’t have to consider myself alone.
Then the minister spoke. Someone different than when I was there. It has been five years. But she spoke my grief. More importantly, she spoke about how she now understood her calling to minister to this congregation.
Because in the midst of all the social media posts urging people to action, this or that petition, I've been pondering what action my God is calling me to make. (Yes, I claim a State, a Nation, a President and now God - what? These are personal relationships and need not impinge on your relationships). Because I have felt such an incredible call, but with no real sense of what that action needs to be.
For me, the first step was going to church. To clarify.
That after eight years of my President asking me to volunteer, be engaged, I'm oddly enough finally once again in a space where I have the time and mental space to volunteer.
In the short term, I think I'll once again check out the UU church in my city (well, after a vacation with Mom, because timing is a thing). Reroot myself in a community and faith tradition that supports the values I believe in and has a long history of peaceful agitation for them.
I'll be in SF for my work Christmas party. I'm thinking of spending the day volunteering at GLIDE.
So simple actions for right now. Maybe take off the day of the inauguration and volunteer at a local Food Bank like Second Harvest. Deeds and acts I can just walk into. Something that I know will help someone.
I can't speak to anyone else's call to action. Right now there’s a lot of agitation. I’ve read articles saying it will die down. Maybe it will. But… bullies don’t go away when you ignore them.
I don’t know if that grieving woman went on to join the Tea Party. Join the Alt-Right. Or if she went to church, cried a bit, and volunteered at a local charity to help people who’d lost their homes in the housing crisis. I don’t (and possibly will never know) what her call to action was. Or if she even answered it.
Just as I don’t know if I’ll fail this call. Let it fade. This post being its only sign. Decide Nineveh’s too rough a town. Get swallowed by a giant fish. No fire in its belly. Or if what will come of this be as simple as a greater engagement in my local community. Sort cans at a food bank every now and then. Be a drop of water. All the while waiting to see if it’s about to rain.