The day of the election I avoided news and social media as much as possible. The morning after I opened my phone long enough to read a headline and then closed it again. Since then I’ve been studiously avoiding news. I only stop in to my regular media sources long enough to play my crosswords or other games, maybe read an advice column and then I peace out. On Facebook I dip my toe in, watch a few adorable dog videos or maybe some Chef Reactions. I read and react to friend posts but then run away. I’m not visiting Facebook nearly as much as I was leading up to the election.
You could say that I’m in denial about what is happening, but I’m not. I know exactly what is happening, and I know deep in my heart what it means. I know what it means for people I love. I know what it will mean for my country. But any amount of time spent dwelling on it leads to a giant spinning void of terror, and I just don’t have what it takes to wrestle the void right now.
My husband and I sometimes play a license plate game when we’re driving together, identifying names of people from the letters on the plates. We were behind a car this weekend with the letters CDC on their plate. I started to make a joke about the CDC, and then my mind skidded to an abrupt stop. Soon we will not have a National Centers for Disease Control. Soon, Robert F Kennedy will send us all a coupon for Vitameatavegemin and some powdered rhino horn and there will be our national defense against deadly disease. The void of terror is always just a heartbeat away, but I decline its invitation.
My husband, bless him, deserves a wife who can watch the news without having a severe anxiety attack requiring medical intervention but alas has me instead. When I come home and he wants to discuss cabinet picks, I don’t know. I don’t care. I will not feel good about any of them. They will make me want to scream and rend my garments in the public square, so I shrug and change the subject. Will my rage change the outcome? No. Will my angrily worded letter move the needle? Clearly not.
I’ve believed in this country my whole life. I’ve believed it has the capacity for greatness, and is driven to always be improving, always expanding its definition of who is welcome, who belongs. I don’t believe that anymore. Every time we have acts of violence, racism and hatred someone comes out and says This is not who we are! But, apparently for a majority of the population it is in fact who we are. We’re racist and proud. We’re jingoistic and proud. We’re willfully misinformed and proud. We’re deliberately blind to our sins and proud. We’re “totally understand all of what you’re saying about the rise of fascism and all that but have you seen the price of milk” and proud.
I’d love to find some kind of absolution for how thoroughly I’ve disconnected myself, or a reason for the truly shocking level of calm I feel inside. Of course my calm is directly proportional to remaining uniformed. The other night Pat shared with me that the net worth of the individuals Trump has picked for his cabinet is 334 billion while in comparison the net worth of Joe Biden’s cabinet is 118 million (this is a real fact available by searching most news sites and no I will not Google it for you). The thought of these billionaire parasites “rescuing” us from the “elitist” left really fucked with my calm.
I feel like I’m standing on land watching the ship of the country I believed in sail away. I can’t stop it and why should I? The people on board are certain they know what’s best. They control every part of the ship now, from the captain to the engine room. I already told y’all where that boat is heading, but that’s where you want to go.
This is actually a terrible analogy because of course I’m not on shore. I’m on the boat, you’re on the boat, we’re all on the boat. Almost all the people I love and care about are on this boat. Some of those people that I love and care about are on the list to be thrown overboard because of their race or gender or identity or politics. I suspect that it’s actually my belief in the promise of a better tomorrow that is back there on the shore.
The fact is I have other shit going on right now, closer to home, and that is part of why walking away has been so easy. Multiple important people in my life have cancer including my mother. We also had to put my mother’s elderly ailing cat down. Tragedies and crises have beset a number of people in my circle. My work involves helping people, many of whom are right on the edge of the abyss, with compassion and understanding. My work also involves supervising a team of people all of whom have their own lives and issues going on, and wanting to make sure they feel safe and supported.
A coworker said that she finds herself observing the news like it’s a television show about a foreign country. Perhaps that’s a better analogy than the tortured boat thing. Everything happening on the national stage is simply not something I’m a part of. I’m not invited to this shindig. I might have some thoughts about how this is going to turn out, but no one is asking me, and after 8 or 9 years of screaming into the void I’m tired. Why waste the pretty?
In the meantime, if you’re so inclined, don’t waste your breath trying to convince me that our fears are completely unfounded or we’re overreacting and worrying about nothing. Y’all elected a felon, rapist, treason weasel and con man to be President of the United States for the SECOND TIME. That’s how much YOU believe in this country. It’s going to be just as bad as the whirling void of terror says it’s going to be. It’s going to be worse. You know it. You knew it when you voted for him and you did it anyway. Own it. Own the boat. Own the wacky foreign reality show you’ve created. I’m nothing but a background character now, and my kink is karma.
I have close friends who are legitimately worried about what January will mean for them and their children now that targets have been painted on their backs. This is what’s real for me. Protecting the people in my life who are my village. The “will of the people” doesn’t change any of that. My determination to help and care for them has not changed. I understand that it’s just us now. There’s no cavalry coming, no rescue. The systems that might help us are taking a cruise to Facistocracy. So I’ll save my energy for the fight that’s coming. If MAGA feeds on liberal tears, they will starve waiting for mine.
Random Knowledge Syndrome 