I didn’t write about the election. Partly because writing about dicks and drinking is entirely more fun. If something can’t be found at my local bar, why waste my time on it?
If it doesn’t result in an orgasm or a nice buzz, doesn’t sound like something I’d be interested in.
But on the more serious side, I did not write about it because I couldn’t. No, not physically. My hands didn’t go missing. My laptop wasn’t thrown out the window (though I contemplated it). I had the capability.
I couldn’t because emotionally, I wasn’t there yet. And fair warning, I’m still not. There is no manual for this kind of situation. Trust me, I Googled that shit.
I have friends and family members calling for unity. Like some bizarre campfire song. They are shouting, “WE MUST COME TOGETHER.” Reaching out their white hands. Always white hands.
I’ll be honest, I still don’t have the right words. I’m quick to make a joke because when I’m uncomfortable, I rely on humor. Bless those Obama and Biden memes. They did the work for me.
People asking for a kumbaya situation are the privileged ones. They can express sadness, that this is not the America they expected. But it’s still in soft tones. They get to feel good about themselves. Not them, right? And they didn’t do this, so lending support to the president-elect is being the bigger person, right?
I don’t know the right move. As I said, I don’t have the right words.
But I know they aren’t, “let’s move on together.” Would you have said that during the Nazi regime? Maybe you would have. Maybe you would have stood beside Hitler and said, “Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”
I will not numb my emotions and normalize something like this. And you shouldn’t either. This isn’t politics as usual. This is something we should all fear.
This is not a time to come together. This is when we fear, when we should dissect every bit of news we are given, when we need to protest, when we must figure out what we can do.
Hatred should not numb us.
Please, do not become numb to this.