Numbness, grief, and grounding truth in the wake of political catastrophe.
Like many of you, today, I feel numb. And that scares me a little, because I’ve always been a passionate fighter for social justice. I feel defeated and I don’t know exactly how we carry on.
I know we keep loving. I know we support one another. I know we hug and we cry and we check in on each other. Because we’re all doing it. I chatted with a lifelong friend from my home country this afternoon. She reflected (and she’s not the only one observing this) that when they lose, they try to burn it all to the ground. Anger, violence, driving vehicles into sidewalk rallies, storming the Capital. When we lose, we focus on community care.
“By their fruits you will know them.” That’s what they always taught me.
So today I got up, surprised the sun was shining through the chill morning. The dissonance of the golden light reminding me that there is always beauty. Even on days of death. Even in mourning.
I went for a run, and then practiced yoga, alone, quietly, in the soft grass behind my home. Reminding myself of the strength of my body, my agency, my power. Reminding myself that today, at least, I am free.
I will live in today. Or, I will try.
And then I let the water and tears mingle and rise into steam before I dressed and met my friend for a political science lecture at the prestigious Pomona College where he is a professor.
I hugged him and took a seat beside him at a round table. He invited me to get some food, so I chose some salad and a brownie, and let them sit in front of me, cold and still. A Muslim couple joined us, tension etched in their faces. Faculty and students streamed in until people were sitting on the floor between tables and standing all around the walls in the back and sides. The atmosphere was subdued, heavy, quiet.
The lecturer discussed the election, giving a sort of post-mortem on what went wrong, how critical needs and values were missed. She answered questions about where we go from here.
And she reflected on the radical nature of the claim that
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all (people) are created equal.
This is who we are. We are the heralds of this essential, cherished truth. We must not forget, no matter what ugliness we now see. Even if they’ve forgotten. Especially because they’ve forgotten.
This is why, as long as we have voices, we will not be silenced.
Why we turn to one another in love.
Why we grieve, in the face of such total rejection of this truth, and also why, tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week, when we have emptied ourselves of tears and shared our fears and grieved and comforted until resilience once again rises on tattered but tenderly patched wings, we will carry on.
We will. Together. We must.
Inhale. Slow exhale. and rest.