Notes on an election

I have been meaning to write this but couldn't find the words. I was angry and processing. I'm still processing but no longer as angry. I'm angry but it's a different kind. Like not raging, but not calm. At all. I'm more at the righteous anger the Bible talks about. (Is that even a stage?) I think Jesus even had some- righteous anger. I had to look up the five stages of grief tonight and realized the one I'm on isn't even on the list. I'm numb again. I go through phases. A friend is off Facebook but on Instagram liking things. A lot of friends left fb. I didn't. I need to know it's there. Facebook is a little crutch for me. I mostly like it now that I've unfriended around 100 people. Someone tried to guilt me about that and it worked and then I got pissed off and unfriended him too. These people aren't even people I see, ever. It had been over 15 years since I'd had a conversation with him, online or otherwise. But he popped onto my wall to make a snarky comment after I'd poured my heart out in a post. And I just don't have time for that shit. And then he became patronizing and condescending. To the point that I stopped engaging. I thought I was overreacting like I've been told (by men) I do, but I had my mom read it and she confirmed the condescension. I wish I could be more like one of those people who says "what a dick" and leave the situation right there. But I keep thinking about it. What made him say such a shitty thing? I'm a nice person. He's a dick. I can say it and not feel bad. It's the truth. My Christian upbringing has me trying to be all love and light and what would Christ do and that's just hard right now. It's hard always, but harder now. This election absolutely sucked, and continues to suck. And I'm 33 not feeling bad about saying "suck" even though every time I say it in the context of something being supremely bad, instead of someone making the inhaling of breath act, I think of a family member when I was around 15 about it meaning "sucks penis" and how vulgar it sounded. To this day anytime I hear or think the word, that's what my mind goes to. And I'm 33.

This election was awful, and I protested and for that night I felt on fire. It hasn't worn off, but it's not as strongly nihilistic. I felt like an anarchist carrying a sign someone else let me hold, screaming "love trumps hate!" and "not my president!" and other slogans until my voice was coarse. But I'm not one. I protest and I sign petitions and I post on Instagram and I've even been reading up on law school programs for public interest lawyer types. 

None of it feels like enough. I do it, but it's not enough. How much solidarity am I even really capable of showing? I'm straight, white, blonde, leggy, blue-eyed, professes to be Christian, and educated. What the hell can I show up for? What right do I have? I'm the face of privilege. The first time I read about the safety pin movement, I rifled through my box of nails and started pinning one on. Someone I respect posted an article mocking the movement and I felt shitty again for trying to show solidarity in my little, inconsequential way. I wore a safety pin on my shirt for 3 days in a row and felt like I was actually making a difference. I'm a recovering sarcastic cynic who did not grow up that way, but life got a hold of me and down that road I went. But I've been trying to tap into my empathy again, and watching cynicism fall by the wayside is not easy. I like holding onto it. It's another crutch. If I'm cynical I don't have to be true to myself and my emotions. I won't be mocked because the entire world is cynical. Read Slate and Medium for a few minutes. Nobody responds to empathy. It's not "in." It's too sheltered and innocent. Adults don't write about stuff like that. They're grown-ups. Well I'm going to try to write more true to self. And hopefully it'll reach someone where they are. Maybe I can make some kind of difference that way.