"How could people ever own black people? How did they think that was okay?" she was bouncing from subject to subject, continuing conversations that may have occurred months ago, randomly, at 7:30 in the morning.
"We are not going to let that happen, Fatima, we are simply not going to let Trump send anyone, anywhere."
I kept waking up in the middle of night. Thinking of the election gave me an almost Christmas-like excitement, two more days, twenty-four more hours, twelve hours and we would know. It would be settled. I feared, like many, that Tuesday wouldn't settle anything and that Trump supporters would contest the election or do violent things at poll stations, or randomly attack minorities with their well known "anger". I told everyone I knew that I wouldn't be convinced that Clinton was president until she was the president, it was just too important and scary to take anything for granted. But, I guess I believed she would win. I realize now that I really thought a livable minimum wage was going to be a reality. I didn't want to jinx it, but was counting on improvement of Obamacare and a Democrat leaning Congress that would actually allow her to govern, unlike the Republican Congress that made it a drinking game to obstruct anything Obama tried to do, whether they actually opposed it or not.
I went to bed around two o'clock, Wednesday morning. A few rust-belt states were undecided, yet I felt the obvious sense of doom that I had felt standing in a bar in Madrid in the middle of the night twelve years ago watching Ohio go to George W. Bush instead of John Kerry. I slammed my eyes shut and hoped like hell for a hail Mary. Early Wednesday morning, I heard Alec up and around, getting ready for work. I squeezed my eyes shut, faking sleep, because I was afraid to ask who won. Finally, I did. I walked outside with Lola. The smell of wildfires filled the air to the point that I thought my own house was on fire.
My initial feeling was a tremendous amount of sorrow. Obamacare would be killed. No increases to the minimum wage. The executive actions would be reversed: The Dream Act, Marriage Equality. He would pick a Supreme Court judge that would tilt the balance on the Court and challenge Roe v. Wade. Syria. The refugees. And, I felt humiliated. Humiliated that Hillary Clinton had had to stand on a stage with him, over and over again while he demonstrated his idiocy. That she had to put up with it, more than likely the most qualified person to ever run for president, stand there with a straight face while he was rude, lying, unqualified, performing a side show that would make some carny snake-oil salesman proud. And she had to tolerate it, pretend like they were in some ways equals, that he was a legitimate candidate instead of telling him like it really was. And, he won. There was no reward for her, for us, he won. Not just any man beat what could have been the first American female president, but a pussy-grabbing misogynist. All of his positions were validated, his behavior approved by millions of Americans.
I sat at my kitchen table, grading papers. Report cards were due the ninth, but I could barely focus. More sorrow. The Obama family. Eight years ago, I actually thought the United States was turning a corner, that electing a black president was a sign of progress. Of course I didn't think racism was gone, but I thought we were progressing. I quickly realized how wrong I was when I read about my Representative, John Lewis, being called a "nigger" on the steps of the Capitol while I was sitting in my cold apartment in Tijuana. Fine, I was naive, but believe me, I recovered. I saw full and well that the election of a black president did not indicate racial progress in the U.S. but instead inflamed every bigot up in this bitch to get really fucking crazy. I knew that part of Trump's "victory" was indicative of the whitelash. But for me, Obama had felt like hope. Not only because of his policies, but for his presence. And I felt something that sorrow doesn't even describe accurately when thinking of the Obama family leaving the White House, while Trump's repugnant crew moved in, sent by the will of millions of Americans.
I went to the Housing Authority to tutor, feeling that sense of enemies among us, that every person I saw might be either a supporter of Trump or willing to give him a pass for being a bigot, which is just as bad in my opinion. I thought of applying for jobs in Mexico, that I needed to get out of this society of which I shared no common values. I found myself thinking over and over again of the rust belt, of the white people that had lost manufacturing jobs and had switched over from Democrats to vote for Trump. And I felt angry, really angry. Some call them working class, some call them uneducated, I don't really care which is more applicable. Clearly, I am aware that something must be done to help them, and I believe they voted against the people that could have helped them, whether it was by not noticing Bernie Sanders or not voting for Hillary Clinton. Instead, what they did is the epitome of white entitlement. A multitude of ethnicities and races have been marginalized for generations. But Jesus Christ, white people experience a few bad years and watch out, they will make everyone pay. They will burn this bitch down. Because THEIR problems are the priority. Who cares that Trump proposes brute force action on Muslims, on Mexicans, on African-Americans, on women. Fuck that, their needs are more important than anything else. And I will laugh, yes I will laugh, when they are still sitting next to an empty coal mine, jobless, four years from now when the bigot they gave a pass to does nothing for them. Let them stew in their famous "anger".
I basically was called an education elitist for making angry comments about the uneducated, white men that helped swing the election for Trump. Yeah, I got some shit. Call it uneducated, but yes, you are under educated if you expect to get decent pay without any other training except a high school diploma. It's not great, but it is reality. Yeah, I am actually against free trade and don't agree with sending factories somewhere else, mainly because they exploit the people and environments where they re-locate, all while pocketing the savings on manpower and environmental regulations, making the 1% richer and richer. But other jobs don't need to come back. I don't want your filthy coal and think it is time to take advantage of some re-training instead of voting for Trump and pointing at minorities as the source of your problems while hoping the mine re-opens. And....you're going to vote Republican because you want the government to save you? I thought Republicans liked small government, the pick yourself up by the bootstrap kind of stuff and no "handouts". Vote for Clinton or Sanders, they may have actually done something for you, but please mark the coalmine off your list.
I awoke Thursday, having that brief sense of not remembering, then feeling the wet blanket fall over me again. The air stilled smelled of fire and now there was visible smoke clouding my view. I taught four classes, my anger and impatience barely in-check. I was surprised I still felt horrible and preoccupied Friday morning.
"It's like a hangover, like an ongoing nightmare...." I told a friend at work.
"It's mourning." she responded and she was right. It feels like mourning.
I regretted saying anything on line about the "uneducated", mainly because I abhor being misconstrued and I thought anyone who knows me would know that I am not an education elitist, let alone unknowledgeable about the struggles of the Rust Belt. I was especially angry at a "friend" that told me that she blamed "all white people" for what happened, unless they had been actively working against white supremacy their whole lives and that it was unfortunate that we blamed "poor white people". That she found it laughable that "liberal white people" were ringing their hands and "shocked" because they didn't know "racism exists". Obviously I am not "shocked" that racism exists, I am completely dismayed at this show of force. Would it be better if I wasn't? I am saddened because yes, the numbers ARE bigger than I thought of people that either support Trump's ideas or are willing to give it a pass. But, I did think we were friends and this person used to call me by my name, not "white people" with some assigned textbook definition from the junior activist collection of flyers. I was mad by the push back and wondered why were fighting each other instead of the giant Cheeto in the room that I felt we should be directing our energy toward.
I started seeing things return to semi-normalcy. Newspaper articles started appearing that had nothing to do with American politics. Friends started putting up pictures of their kids' soccer games instead of large reflections on Tuesday's election. People talking about football. And I felt pissed off all over again.
"What are you doing?????" I thought.
"Did none of this mean anything to you???? THIS SHIT IS NOT OVER!!!!"
It reminded me of September 11th. The days of doom, the heavy horrible feel, the fear and mourning and the profaneness of a return to normal life.
By Saturday, the fog began to clear in my mind. I slept almost eleven hours Friday night and found myself mentally preparing an action plan against Trump's proposals. Make America Great Again. Like when, the fifties? You know, when black people "knew their place", women wore aprons and Japanese were barely out of internment camps? When white American was the definition of "America"?
Fuck that. Really, fuck that.
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