And Then What?

And Then What?

Things are rough, huh? People are sad and scared and angry. There is systemic racism, sexism, abuse and at least half the people in this country are a-ok with it. It’s not just Trump. It’s not just cops. It’s not just the system, it’s the people who make up the system. It’s our neighbors. Our kids’ teachers, their coaches, their pastors, and friend’s parents. It’s like every where we look, everywhere we turn, someone is getting fucked by someone else. And it’s not new. We’re all acting like this is some terrifying new trend, but it’s always been this way, we just weren’t paying attention.

Minorities have always been marginalized. Women have always been raped. Children have always been abused and neglected. If you pay attention, you’ll be heartbroken. I haven’t always paid attention and I when I didn’t’, I was much happier. Ignorance is bliss and all that, right? But now? Now the awful gets ratings, so it’s in your face all the time. You have to CHOOSE to not pay attention to not know how fucked up things are. You have to make a cognizant choice and decide to put your head in the sand and ignore all the horrible things, all the horrible people and the horrible choices they make.

And, my God, I wish I could make that choice. I would like nothing more than to stick my head back in the sand, take the goddamned blue pill and forget that our country, our culture, is made of hate. I wish I could pretend that I don’t mind that the mother of the person my kid got paired up with in a penpal program has Trump Pence propaganda all over her Facebook page. I wish that I didn’t have to request a new penpal because her values don’t align with my family’s values and I don’t want my kid even potentially exposed to that kind of malignant person.

I want to sit down and write about the things I love and the things that make me smile, beauty and grace and love and kindness. But I just can’t. I’m too busy crying. I’m too busy being angry. I’m too busy being scaredflame-fire-candles-77127. I just can’t muster the energy to project love right now. My light isn’t shining. Maybe it will again one day, but right now, I’m too busy being heartbroken for my country and my world and too busy being disappointed in my neighbors to wax poetic about the sunset or the feel of grass under bare feet or the way my toddler gives sloppy, sticky kisses.

All this heartbreak, it’s just exhausting. I’m burning out on fear and despair. My soul aches and it all seems too big to fix. It’s overwhelming in scope. The problems we’re facing, they are so expansive, so entrenched in our cultural narrative, I don’t know how we’ll ever fix them. Are the rifts too wide to be breached? I don’t know. It seems that way now, but I hope not. But when everywhere you turn there is one more awful thing…it all just seems kinda hopeless. And that’s not my bag, y’all. I don’t like hopeless. I don’t DO hopeless. I may be a little cynical sometimes, but hopeless isn’t how I roll. That’s why this is fucking with me so badly. I don’t want to be hopeless, but it all just seems too big for hope.

When Trump loses, his supporters will still be out there, legitimized in their hate. When the Dakota access pipeline is rerouted, the government will still marginalize indigenous people. When Michael Slager is convicted, black men will still be gunned down by cops. When a rapist is convicted of rape (or does that ever even happen?), women will continue being raped.

It’s just too much y’all. Something has to give and I am scared to find out what it’s going to be.


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