Friends, I am afraid, I am afraid of the person and the ideology we just gave power to and I am afraid of what made that choice possible. I woke up this morning and apologized to my son. “I’m so sorry. I was supposed to keep you safe, and now this is the country you have to grow up in.” Friends, I mourn with you today. And friends, I feel hopeless too.
But if I know anything, hopeless is not a place for us to stay. Mourn what you need to, grieve for as long as you must, but then get up and get back to work. The work that we were already doing is still there, and just became ever more crucial, ever more real, ever more immediate. The only thing to do is keep working, keep organizing, keep raising our collective voices and bringing our collective bodies to strategic action. We must work for a world that is safe and just for all people – queer folk and people of color and Muslims and women and immigrants and anyone non-white, non-heteronormative, non-Christian.
After 1:00 last night, the last of my friends was gathering her things to leave. By then we knew that Trump was going to win. In farewell, she told me,
“Well Lauren, I’m glad to have you in my pack. Whatever happens.”
“Well, shucks, you too. At least we have our people,” I replied.
“It’s all we’ve got, isn’t it?”
The work starts here. Don’t believe for even a second that you are alone in your fear and your despair. Hug your babies, call your friends, tell them you love them, and let’s get back to work.
In the words of Dorothy Day: “No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.”