The horrifying thing about last night’s election is that for many Americans the only thing they could do is sit, and watch it happen. Like the livefeed of some pervert streaming a grotesque obscenity many could only bear witness. For me, it felt like being locked in a room with a greasy rapist counting down aloud to the moment he intends to carry out what I cannot stop. I’m chained down. It’s not my choice to be here, to have this happen, but I can see through a window people gleefully walking by, pressing a button urging him to do what he wants. There’s another button right next to it. If they press that one he won’t be allowed to violate me. They choose not to press it. He grins, a look of smug self satisfaction, oiling his cock with drool, “5, 4, 3, 2…”
I felt physically ill last night. So uncomfortable, so terrified of the impending reality of a Donald Trump presidency I punched a brick wall hard enough to make my hand numb for a few seconds. I thought I broke it. I didn’t, but what an odd relief to have that pain as a distraction. It reminded me of high school, how on particularly dark days I’d retreat to my bedroom, crack open a stolen bottle of whiskey, and pull out a butterfly knife. I would slice into my skin to create the association that pain isn’t real unless there’s blood; emotions can’t hurt you. Sadly, though I left such irrational behavior behind a long time ago, I felt a desire last night to bring it back because I could only see dark days ahead. The feelings that view inspired I wanted gone.
Then a thought occurred to me. Unless some deus ex machina occurs Trump is the president. For whatever reason, a slender majority of Americans wanted this. Sure there are ways to rationalize the choice they made, however, those forgive a short-sighted understanding of politics – the GOP doesn’t need the presidency to influence what happens in this country, just look at the ways an entrenched Republican Congress blocked Obama at every turn – and a woefully willful ignorance of the candidate himself, the obvious hideousness of the man; yet my point is that this is whom they have chosen to represent our country. That is the act of a desperate people.
Conservatives are not stupid. That’s a dismissive characterization those who disagree with them often make. Conservatives are intelligent people, though that said they are also heavily invested in a particular way of life. As such they cling to it with an obstinacy that can be frustrating to deal with. Still, it’s a way of life that is dying off. According to the Pew Research Center 56% of Americans think abortion should be legal. Granted, one statistic does not show a terminal decline, but think about the society we’ve been building as a nation these several years.
Since roughly 1964, America has passed laws giving civil rights to a host of minorities, same-sex marriage is now a reality; racism isn’t gone, but we’re finally having a more open discussion about it – Black Lives Matter. And change, though not overnight, does influence future generations. Just look at Shirley Chisholm. In 1972 she became the first African American candidate going after a major party’s nomination, and people threatened to kill her. Four decades ago a black woman asking for the chance to lead this country meant she risked death. Now we have Barrack Obama. I am aware that is an oversimplification, and that certain -isms remain lamentably in place. Take this almost prophetic statement from Chisholm, “I met more discrimination as a woman than for being black.” But the point remains the same: Things change just not as fast as we might like.
We’re living in the transition. Consequently there’s going to be resistance from those who think life was better way back in the day. In a way, they are right. Life was better… for them. They want to step backwards because in their minds it’s a return to something golden. Seizing on that collective desire, Donald Trump, the most successful con artist in history, sold them the illusion he can guide them back to that past of milk and honey. The sad truth is he’s leading them to the fate of the Donner party… and the rest of us are along for the ride. That means it’s time to hold the line.
The pushback is on. It’s real. It isn’t an abstraction, or even something mild. Drunk uncle isn’t at a barbeque ranting with casual abandon about fags, niggers, and cunts, he’s president elect. It’s happening now. So we need to take a breath. Collect ourselves. Do what you need to dust off defeat, and help hold the line.
We’ve made advances as a society we can really be proud of. It’s time to hold onto them. All eyes on the oval office, watching to see what happens, so we can jump up to say, “No. We don’t want that. Don’t you fucking dare.” And even if something awful slips through we must bear witness to it so that the future learns from the nightmare we relate to them.
Out into the streets to protest, clamoring in every possible way to demand Congress not let him ruin this country. It’ll be four years of trench warfare – families after the holidays will become estranged, perhaps beyond repair – but sooner than we think, though not as soon as we hope, the chance will be here to vote him out.
In the meanwhile, vote in those willing to oppose him in Congress; don’t be silent when someone says something ignorant just because you’d prefer a quiet night out. Don’t take this lying down. Scrutinize his every move. Question every policy. Criticize him anyway you can: art, vlogs, t-shirts, books, plays, music, etc.
He wants a wall? Let’s show him a wall, a wall of minds aligned in opposition to this monstrosity.
I felt physically ill last night. So uncomfortable, so terrified of the impending reality of a Donald Trump presidency I punched a brick wall hard enough to make my hand numb for a few seconds. I thought I broke it. I didn’t, but what an odd relief to have that pain as a distraction. It reminded me of high school, how on particularly dark days I’d retreat to my bedroom, crack open a stolen bottle of whiskey, and pull out a butterfly knife. I would slice into my skin to create the association that pain isn’t real unless there’s blood; emotions can’t hurt you. Sadly, though I left such irrational behavior behind a long time ago, I felt a desire last night to bring it back because I could only see dark days ahead. The feelings that view inspired I wanted gone.
Then a thought occurred to me. Unless some deus ex machina occurs Trump is the president. For whatever reason, a slender majority of Americans wanted this. Sure there are ways to rationalize the choice they made, however, those forgive a short-sighted understanding of politics – the GOP doesn’t need the presidency to influence what happens in this country, just look at the ways an entrenched Republican Congress blocked Obama at every turn – and a woefully willful ignorance of the candidate himself, the obvious hideousness of the man; yet my point is that this is whom they have chosen to represent our country. That is the act of a desperate people.
Conservatives are not stupid. That’s a dismissive characterization those who disagree with them often make. Conservatives are intelligent people, though that said they are also heavily invested in a particular way of life. As such they cling to it with an obstinacy that can be frustrating to deal with. Still, it’s a way of life that is dying off. According to the Pew Research Center 56% of Americans think abortion should be legal. Granted, one statistic does not show a terminal decline, but think about the society we’ve been building as a nation these several years.
Since roughly 1964, America has passed laws giving civil rights to a host of minorities, same-sex marriage is now a reality; racism isn’t gone, but we’re finally having a more open discussion about it – Black Lives Matter. And change, though not overnight, does influence future generations. Just look at Shirley Chisholm. In 1972 she became the first African American candidate going after a major party’s nomination, and people threatened to kill her. Four decades ago a black woman asking for the chance to lead this country meant she risked death. Now we have Barrack Obama. I am aware that is an oversimplification, and that certain -isms remain lamentably in place. Take this almost prophetic statement from Chisholm, “I met more discrimination as a woman than for being black.” But the point remains the same: Things change just not as fast as we might like.
We’re living in the transition. Consequently there’s going to be resistance from those who think life was better way back in the day. In a way, they are right. Life was better… for them. They want to step backwards because in their minds it’s a return to something golden. Seizing on that collective desire, Donald Trump, the most successful con artist in history, sold them the illusion he can guide them back to that past of milk and honey. The sad truth is he’s leading them to the fate of the Donner party… and the rest of us are along for the ride. That means it’s time to hold the line.
The pushback is on. It’s real. It isn’t an abstraction, or even something mild. Drunk uncle isn’t at a barbeque ranting with casual abandon about fags, niggers, and cunts, he’s president elect. It’s happening now. So we need to take a breath. Collect ourselves. Do what you need to dust off defeat, and help hold the line.
We’ve made advances as a society we can really be proud of. It’s time to hold onto them. All eyes on the oval office, watching to see what happens, so we can jump up to say, “No. We don’t want that. Don’t you fucking dare.” And even if something awful slips through we must bear witness to it so that the future learns from the nightmare we relate to them.
Out into the streets to protest, clamoring in every possible way to demand Congress not let him ruin this country. It’ll be four years of trench warfare – families after the holidays will become estranged, perhaps beyond repair – but sooner than we think, though not as soon as we hope, the chance will be here to vote him out.
In the meanwhile, vote in those willing to oppose him in Congress; don’t be silent when someone says something ignorant just because you’d prefer a quiet night out. Don’t take this lying down. Scrutinize his every move. Question every policy. Criticize him anyway you can: art, vlogs, t-shirts, books, plays, music, etc.
He wants a wall? Let’s show him a wall, a wall of minds aligned in opposition to this monstrosity.
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