I am exhausted.
I am writing this 24 hours after the results of the election were confirmed and D*nald Tr*mp was reelected as the 47th President of the United States. I am sick to my stomach, my eyes are puffy from crying all day yesterday, and my hair is falling out in the shower. The cumulation of horror, shock, grief, and disappointment that has overwhelmed my body and mind is crippling. I called off work yesterday morning after waking up with a pounding headache, checking the news, my heart subsequently dropping, and crying myself back to sleep. I spent the morning in bed, trying to distract myself from political discourse, only to be so consumed by the glow of my phone, abandoning that, and then jumping out of bed and cleaning until my fingers ached, to drown out all possible thoughts that flitted through my mind. Luckily, my apartment is spotless now, but I digress.
I went to bed on Election Night hopeful. And to some, that may be naïve, but I would argue it was what I needed to stay alive. I am not really in the space to be enthusiastic about the fight ahead of us. I feel like this is going to be a never-ending situation. My issue with the reactions of “everything will be okay” and “there are checks and balances in place to protect us” post-election mostly stem from the ignorance to the idea that this choice (that a majority of the country has made) will have massive consequences to the stability of our current political system. I don’t think the majority of the country understands the scope of power Tr*mp will have, and the policies and mandates Tr*mp has said he will implement to grant himself total control over government decisions. This has the ability to be catastrophic. And in the path of his calculated vitriol, women, children, the LGBTQ+ community, people with disabilities, people of color, and refugees/immigrants will be expended. Our notion of “normal” will be flipped upside down. Schools will change. Healthcare will change. The environment will change. The economy will change. The safety of the nation will change. The U.S.’s relationship to the rest of the world will change. Lives will be lost. Families will be ripped apart. And I just don’t think people understand this.
It’s a known fact that the two-party system is busted. It just does not benefit the general electorate anymore, and arguably, it never did. All of the grassroots, local advocacy that people dedicate their lives to every day seems to just implode at the foot of this system. But it is necessary advocacy, and where we need to turn our attention now. I don’t have the energy to elaborate, as my thoughts are still evolving in the wake of the new reality we will have to deal with, but they will come with time.
Where I am turning my energy to now is what will be there for me tomorrow, and the day after, and the weeks to come as we wait for Tr*mp to take office. I find solace in the fact that I will have my cup of coffee tomorrow morning. I will see my roommates and give them a hug. I will go to class and learn new things. I will use my legs and go on a walk. And I will be okay. I still have all of the things that I love so dearly, my family, my dogs, my best friends, my boyfriend, my classmates, my professors, my favorite television shows, my favorite sweatshirt, and the way that the sun shines through my window in the morning. I may not be able to control what happens on Capitol Hill, but I can control the food and water I put into my body to fuel myself. I can control when I go to sleep and for how long. I can control when I wash my hair in the shower. And I can control my well-being as a whole. The process of taking care of yourself is radical in nature. Not letting the weight of the world crush you and succumbing to the endless white noise online is disruptive and illuminates the power you have within you.
Sharing my love for the things that are meaningful to me keeps me alive. Recently, I presented my paper on the queer subtext in Folklore by Taylor Swift at the Ray Browne Popular Culture Conference here at BGSU. I dissected the songs, “Seven” “Illicit Affairs” and “The Lakes,” and explained my interpretation of how these songs could be perceived as canonically queer. In perceiving these songs as queer, listeners can find comfort, community, affirmation, and love within the narrative. As well as representation–something that is seriously lacking in popular media. With Swift’s stardom, the importance of the ambiguity of Folklore’s songs and the non-autobiographical turn from her usual songwriting habits cannot be understated. These songs reach expansive audiences, transcending space and time with melodic whimsy. I concluded my presentation with a thank you to Taylor Swift and Aaron Dessner, her co-writer and producer of the album, because they helped me come to terms with my identity, and to them, I am eternally grateful. The battle of self-discovery and acceptance never ends, yet I have found a comfortable niche for the time being, and I greatly attribute this accomplishment to them.
I was graciously chosen as the only undergraduate student to present at this conference, and although it filled me with anxiety, it filled me with great pride and gratitude. How lucky was I to be able to share something so near to my heart with a room full of smart and receptive listeners, where we both gleaned benefits from the presentation. One person told me that I had successfully persuaded them to give the album a listen, as their apprehension in doing so was influenced by negative perception of her fandom online. And I told them, if there was one thing I hoped this presentation would do, I hoped that it would influence someone to try her music, specifically this album, and see if any of the ambiguous stories she crafted resonated with them.
My ability to express my queerness is at stake now. The very concept of this conference is at stake now. Tr*mp is vehemently anti-LGBTQ+ and the people surrounding him work day in and day out to dismantle the protections given to queer people by the government. I am grateful I was given this opportunity, as I do not know what the future holds, or if I will be able to do something similar again. But I do know the learning will continue, no matter how hard he tries to stop it. I will continue to unlearn all of the hate that has been instilled in me by society, and continue to love myself and love others radically. Using my privilege, I promise to extend my fight to my brothers and sisters and nonbinary friends of all colors and backgrounds, who may not have the same avenues I do to enact change, as this fight is intersectional. What affects me, affects her, and him, and them, and we are all extensions of each other. My queerness is intrinsically part of me and a part of every other queer person. Even in my heteronormative relationship: I am still a queer woman. And that is one thing D*nald Tr*mp will never take away from me.
In stringing the election and the presentation of my research together, I come away with one glimmering reminder: love will see us through. And as hard as it is to accept this in the face of a dwindling promise of protection with the results of the election, I do believe that love will prevail. As much as I complained about everyone’s attempt to ease the pain of Kamala’s defeat, I think she, herself, provided me with the most comfort moving forward.
In Vice President Kamala Harris’s concession speech yesterday, she explained,
“There’s an adage a historian once called a law of history, true of every society across the ages. The adage is, only when it is dark enough can you see the stars. I know many people feel like we are entering a dark time, but for the benefit of us all, I hope that is not the case. But here’s the thing, America, if it is, let us fill the sky with the light of a brilliant, brilliant billion of stars. The light, the light of optimism, of faith, of truth and service. And may that work guide us even in the face of setbacks toward the extraordinary promise of the United States of America. I thank you all.”
Kamala wasn’t my first choice for the democratic nominee, yet I believe she wove critical threads through the fabric of our democracy. I see her historical run for presidency as a further crack in the glass ceiling, one step closer to shattering. I thought we as a country were ready, but it is clear we are not. Regardless of my opinion of her and her policies, I thank Kamala Harris for the hope she provided me and proof that the fight isn’t over.
You are allowed to grieve in whatever way feels good to you. You can be sad, angry, disappointed, frustrated, and overwhelmed and you are still valid. If that sadness turns to anger, let that anger out, and let it fuel you towards progress. The feelings will come and go, like waves on the shore, things will get harder, but they will also improve. We can’t lose sight of the big picture, or hope for a future where community and love are the foundation of our fight. We have to lead with love and light, spreading the love for the things that keep us alive to others, in hopes that it will keep them alive. We may not live to see the fruits of our labor, but I hope we can one day watch from the sky amongst the stars and shine light down on those below us, leading their way forward.
Sending hugs to whoever needs them,
Grace
Source: https://time.com/7173617/kamala-harris-concession-speech-full-transcript/