My partners and therapists have been asking how I am feeling, post-election results. That’s the easy part: Disgust. Frustration. Rage. Determination and Resolve. Exhaustion. But out of all the emotions I can list, I can’t say I was surprised. A large part of me suspected the worst case scenario, and was proven right. And I hate it when my cynicism is justified.
My secondary feelings (the “emotions-to-the-emotions”) is an overwhelming… it’s not sadness. It’s resignation.
You’ve probably seen the images circulating around of the vote breakdown according to race. Most of the votes for Trump were overwhelmingly white– very similar to how 2016 shook out. And those numbers are damning. There have been various speculation as to why this happened. I keep tabbing out of this window and coming back, trying to sum up everything.
To be honest, I don’t want to.
I don’t see the point. Others have already said, and better. In a similar vein I permanently shelved a writing project debunking racist thought patterns that arrest potential dialogue because what’s the fucking point in adding another thinkpiece to the pile that is clearly getting dismissed?
I’m resigned because the vast majority of this country does not care to actually change things for the better. It would rather uphold Whiteness, and capitalism, and systematic oppression, and all the buzzwords the average Karen will tune out than grow and improve. Stacey said, if I may be glib, that there is no point in trusting white women, because performative pink pussy hats and blue bracelets are far more easier than turning the mirror on yourself and your culture.
I am resigned to the feeling that solidarity is so, so far out of reach. In my darkest thoughts, maybe it never was.
It would be so easy to isolate, shut down, don’t stick my neck out for nobody because fuck everybody else they don’t care about me. I am exhausted at defending my very existence, and for what? Those exit poll numbers? What was the fucking point?!
But I know that is wrong. My feelings are valid, yes, but me climbing into a hole of despair, disappointment, and bitterness won’t help anyone.
That’s what they want: to isolate myself.
So I will still not only exist, but be visible. I will help where I can, any way I can. I will still try to form community bonds and friendships and other ways of living in this world. I have family created and forged that I can rely on. I know who my people are.
And I will focus on that.
Outwardly, I am much more cautious and jaded.
I’m no longer extending the olive branch of my personhood and knowledge just so maybe I’ll be seen as human and treated as such. Perhaps every once in awhile I’ll get a bee in my bonnet and discuss this sort of thing, because that is just how I roll. But it won’t be in that outward, educating voice anymore.
I find myself exasperated as some are still insisting on “meeting in the middle,” trying to “change hearts and minds,” when that energy could be spent doing more productive things.
But.
It takes all kinds in a community, doesn’t it? If someone has more patience and energy than I in this endeavor, then I wish them the best. Maybe they’ll have more luck than I ever did.