Things Happen For a Reason
I often tell myself this. I have for years. Whether it was over losing a job, missing a train, or running into a long lost friend. Why should it be any different when it comes to a scary, xenophobic, racist, misogynistic, [insert disconcerting adjective here] President-elect?
Things happen for a reason. Right?
Like so many of us, I’ve had a bit of a rough go of things since Election Day. I feel sad. Scared. Distraught. Anxious. Angry. I see stories unfold on Shaun King’s Twitter feed that make me want to vomit.
What have we become? And how the hell do we come back from this?
For so many, the damage has been done. And he hasn’t even taken office yet. I think to myself, I can’t be alone, waiting in fear for what’s still to come. With each reported appointment to Trump’s cabinet, a sharp intake, increased breathing, thoughts running amok, fear-level nuclear.
But what if this election — this frightening President-elect — had to happen to save us in the long run? What if — just hear me out — what if we needed such an extreme outcome to shake us out of our complacency? To really affect change? To create a groundswell of grassroots movements and actions and passion across the nation and really stir up politics — this time for good?
Surely, if there’s one thing both sides can agree on, it’s that politicians no longer stand for their constituents. Making matters worse, we never seem to hold them accountable for it. They care about themselves, their lobbyists, their pockets, and anyone they are indebted to. We’ve stood by and let it happen — we don’t act, we just shake our heads and comment on Facebook.
(And let’s be clear: Casually involving ourselves in spirited dinner debates with our spouses and posting comments on people’s Facebook posts does not an engaged citizen make.)
No. What we need to do — what we really need to do to change the narrative — is get off our asses and get involved in our communities in a bigger way. Run for school board. (Or at the very least, start showing up at meetings and pay attention.) Volunteer with your town. Join a cause like Moms Demand Action or Planned Parenthood Action Committee.
(In fact, while you’re at it, donate to Planned Parenthood, in Mike Pence’s name. He will receive the “thank you” letter in the mail.)
March for something you believe in. Become an activist. Host a Political or Community-minded Article Club or roundtable discussion. Learn more about your local government and your elected officials. Get to know them. Understand their policies. Communicate your concerns to them. Call their offices. Get in their faces. Hold them accountable. Don’t let them forget that they work for us and if they don’t, their time in-office will be limited.
Admittedly, I haven’t been doing this. Collectively, we haven’t been doing this, and that is precisely why Trump won.
And all of this takes work, no doubt about it. It’s going to take us getting out from behind our computer screens to organize and get our shit together. It’s going to take us actively giving a fuck, in an era when it’s considered cool to give zero of them. Some estimates suggest some 100M+ eligible voters did not give enough of a fuck, which, again, is why Trump won. Skimming headlines of articles in your Facebook feed, without clicking and reading them, or ensuring they were from a reputable source, is why Trump won.
I woke up this morning with a fire burning inside of me to be part of something bigger here. I’m angry. I’m fired up. I’m in no way, shape or form prepared to take the next four years sitting down. As a woman, as a mom, as a Jew, as a strong believer in equal rights for all, as a believer in a woman’s right to choose, as a role model for my son and daughter, as an advocate for gun reform. I am here, and I’m going to be heard.
When I was young, my dad used to play Peter, Paul & Mary on the record player, and this song (originally Pete Seeger’s) is one I’ve often found myself humming, subconsciously, as a calming mechanism when I’m upset. Maybe if we hum this song together — in unity or in opposition — maybe we can really turn this ship around for good.
Who’s with me?
