It has been quite a week. I am not okay. I have been sleeping poorly. Eating horribly. Rarely exercising. The dread in my gut has not abated much. And as it was lessening due to time, there was an incident of hate right here in Denver. Today a woman's vehicle was spray painted with transphobic slurs and included "die". Right here in safe blue Denver. Again, I'm not all that scared for myself, but I fear for those who are visible minorities. It is not about me.
I don't know how to have conversations. I want to talk about my outrage, my sadness. I want to reassure my upset friends. I want to fight injustice. But I can feel my apathy creeping in. Shutting me down. I don't trust people anymore. People who say they are my friend yet do not show me. People who claim not to be racist but happily elect a blatantly racist man into the highest office. Replace "racist" with sexist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, etc. And you know, I'm not even that afraid of Trump himself. He's silly and selfish. But he's surrounding himself with advisors that only bolster this atmosphere of hatred and bigotry. And I fear those who voted from him. Those who wholeheartedly approve of his ways. People who would prefer I didn't exist, that so many of my friends didn't exist. This is not okay.
I am sick of "moderates" trying to say that it is okay. That is privilege. I am sick of the people who say that we are just sore losers. It's not about that. I don't actually have strong opinions about Hillary, but I have always had strong opinions about Trump. This is not about my candidate not winning. It is about losing, but it's about losing my voice. (Potentially) losing the accomplishments I, and people like me, have worked so hard for these last few years. It's about losing all the forward progress we've struggled for. And it is even about losing lives and livelihoods. Reports have come in of over 400 people being harassed and assaulted in the course of this week. Due to the color of their skin. Their religion. Their accent. Their gender presentation. It is not okay.
I am not okay.
The only glimmer that makes me do at least something each day is my foster puppy. She's super cuddly and doesn't make messes or noises. The perfect animal.
I don't know how to have conversations. I want to talk about my outrage, my sadness. I want to reassure my upset friends. I want to fight injustice. But I can feel my apathy creeping in. Shutting me down. I don't trust people anymore. People who say they are my friend yet do not show me. People who claim not to be racist but happily elect a blatantly racist man into the highest office. Replace "racist" with sexist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, etc. And you know, I'm not even that afraid of Trump himself. He's silly and selfish. But he's surrounding himself with advisors that only bolster this atmosphere of hatred and bigotry. And I fear those who voted from him. Those who wholeheartedly approve of his ways. People who would prefer I didn't exist, that so many of my friends didn't exist. This is not okay.
I am sick of "moderates" trying to say that it is okay. That is privilege. I am sick of the people who say that we are just sore losers. It's not about that. I don't actually have strong opinions about Hillary, but I have always had strong opinions about Trump. This is not about my candidate not winning. It is about losing, but it's about losing my voice. (Potentially) losing the accomplishments I, and people like me, have worked so hard for these last few years. It's about losing all the forward progress we've struggled for. And it is even about losing lives and livelihoods. Reports have come in of over 400 people being harassed and assaulted in the course of this week. Due to the color of their skin. Their religion. Their accent. Their gender presentation. It is not okay.
I am not okay.
The only glimmer that makes me do at least something each day is my foster puppy. She's super cuddly and doesn't make messes or noises. The perfect animal.
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| Video games help me not to think. Teagan helps me to play video games. |
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