We all process things in our own ways. I like to do a lot of writing. And a former history teacher of mine does the same. We've been having a therapeutic writing exchange over this last week, trying to process all the feelings and fears for the US and the world that surged for us (and others) last Tuesday.
Receiving his first email last Wednesday evening definitely sparked the tears that had been waiting all day to come. I know some of my friends had burst into tears and were crying all day, but it took a while for the shock to wear off for me.
And when I refer to shock, I'm not referring to the shock of the candidate I voted for losing an election. Rather, I was shocked because I thought America was better than to fall for the xenophobic rantings of a two-bit demagogue. Whatever happened to "country of immigrants", "Give me your poor...", "no official language"? What happened to the land of opportunity for all, not just for those who were here first?
Needless to say, the shock of my disillusionment only broke when the most rationally idealistic person I've ever known (aka: my former history teacher) reached out through the Internet to give me a hug. When the tears finally came, they were welcome and did no harm.
Our emails definitely helped me articulate not just what I was feeling, but also how we wanted to move forward, and what (if any) bright spots we could see on the horizon. He reminded me that partisan politics had gridlocked the federal government for a while, and that the economic make-up of the country right now resembles the Gilded Age--a time of massive inequality that led to some really progressive reforms (including women getting the right to vote, direct election of senators, and lots of economic reform, like Social Security and the CCC in the 1930s). And I reminded myself of ways to deal with the trolls: acknowledge their humanity, protect my self, my space and my soul, and bombard them with love and facts (#Love&Facts).
And then he reminded me that we have to deal with a gold-plated turd as the conspiracy-theorist-in-chief for four years (that's me editorializing). Looks like we've got a LOT of work to do.
Receiving his first email last Wednesday evening definitely sparked the tears that had been waiting all day to come. I know some of my friends had burst into tears and were crying all day, but it took a while for the shock to wear off for me.
And when I refer to shock, I'm not referring to the shock of the candidate I voted for losing an election. Rather, I was shocked because I thought America was better than to fall for the xenophobic rantings of a two-bit demagogue. Whatever happened to "country of immigrants", "Give me your poor...", "no official language"? What happened to the land of opportunity for all, not just for those who were here first?
Needless to say, the shock of my disillusionment only broke when the most rationally idealistic person I've ever known (aka: my former history teacher) reached out through the Internet to give me a hug. When the tears finally came, they were welcome and did no harm.
Our emails definitely helped me articulate not just what I was feeling, but also how we wanted to move forward, and what (if any) bright spots we could see on the horizon. He reminded me that partisan politics had gridlocked the federal government for a while, and that the economic make-up of the country right now resembles the Gilded Age--a time of massive inequality that led to some really progressive reforms (including women getting the right to vote, direct election of senators, and lots of economic reform, like Social Security and the CCC in the 1930s). And I reminded myself of ways to deal with the trolls: acknowledge their humanity, protect my self, my space and my soul, and bombard them with love and facts (#Love&Facts).
And then he reminded me that we have to deal with a gold-plated turd as the conspiracy-theorist-in-chief for four years (that's me editorializing). Looks like we've got a LOT of work to do.
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