Love and Indignation

It’s been a difficult week. Late Tuesday afternoon, I posted on social media about how I would soon be able to say I had voted for the nation’s first Black and then first female president. I noted that what I found even more moving than casting my vote was the diversity at my polling place in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, where a whole crew of people once excluded from the voting process (people of color, immigrants, women) were working, helping one another, and helping me, do our civic duty. For a moment, it felt like as messy and fucked-up as this country can be, maybe it would all be ok.

Fast forward a few days, and we have a hollow buffoon with misogynist, racist, looney tune tendencies as the president and there’s a swastika at the park in the town where I grew up. I’ve been having so many conversation with friends who are shocked, alarmed, and angry—as we should be. To be clear, these are not sour grapes because “our side” lost. Outrage is a valid response when a leader who threatens basic human rights—the right to safety and dignity regardless of ethnicity or country of origin, the right to a free press, the right to worship as we please, love as we please, to have control over our own bodies—is elected. I heard one person say, “I refuse to be angry, because anger is what got us into this mess.” That’s like getting food poisoning and then saying “I’m not going to eat ever again, hunger is what got me into this mess.” Vomiting is sometimes the body’s response to a toxin; anger can work similarly. And righteous anger can be transformative.

I could go on for days, but I can’t say it any better than the words of the ACLU’s executive director, Anthony D. Romero. He wrote:

“President-elect Trump, as you assume the nation’s highest office, we urge you to reconsider and change course on certain campaign promises you have made. These include your plan to amass a deportation force to remove 11 million undocumented immigrants; ban the entry of Muslims into our country and aggressively surveil them; punish women for accessing abortion; reauthorize waterboarding and other forms of torture; and change our nation’s libel laws and restrict freedom of expression.

These proposals are not simply un-American and wrong-headed, they are unlawful and unconstitutional. They violate the First, Fourth, Fifth, Eighth, and 14th Amendments.”

In my discussions with friends, many people are looking for ways to act and are unsure what to do next. Giving Trump a chance to lead is not what to do next—he has said enough for us to know what he is capable of. For right now, here are some basic things you can do:

  • For those with the means to donate, consider the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, the NAACP, Planned Parenthood, or any of these organizations.
    • Is an important birthday, anniversary, or other special occasion coming up? Why not make a donation in honor of someone instead of buying a gift? I just did this for some family birthdays—people old enough to buy their own presents, who don’t really need another tchotchke from me. I’ve also set up recurring monthly donations, because guaranteed amounts help organizatios plan.
    • I know this might sound extreme, but what if we cancelled Thanksgiving and spent the money we were going to spend on an elaborate meal as a donation instead? My family’s across the country, and so I was considering a fancy restaurant meal; now, I want to donate that money and find a place where I can volunteer. (I will probably still find a way to eat some pumpkin pie, though.)
  • If money is tight, many of those organizations have sign-up sheets for volunteering your time. Remember that you have the chance to impact people’s minds with every conversation in daily life. Be proud, be strong—you have a right to your opinion, and no one, certainly not the president, is exempt from criticism. Never let anyone tell you that criticizing elected officials is disrespectful or un-American. It’s anything but.
  • Protest. If you think “protesting doesn’t do anything,” consider the civil rights movement. Perhaps you might google Gandhi? He was kind of a big deal.
    • The Million Woman March on DC in inauguration day one protest to consider. All genders are welcome, vaginas not necessary.
  • If you witness harassment or discrimination, stand up for the vulnerable. Here’s a great comic that demonstrates one technique for how to do so, and applies regardless of the type of harassment being enacted. I used this technique on a train a few years ago, and the harassing man was so flummoxed it worked like a charm.
  • Exercise your critical thinking skills at all times. When you see a news article, check the source and date right away. If you’re unfamiliar with the source, try to see how long it’s been around. Brand-new? Could be a red flag. Look for an “about us” section. There are a few other good tips at the bottom of this NYT piece.
  • Be skeptical about attempts to commodify your dissent. The wearing of a safety pin might make you feel good, and that’s not nothing this week. But the symbol may not register to those you’re trying to protect, and if you’re spending more than a second and a few cents on it, your effort is probably better spent elsewhere. Please do not buy the $300 14k gold safety pin necklace as a gesture of solidarity.
    • On a related note, while self-care is critical for self-preservation, please don’t treat your pedicure like a political act. I mean, just don’t.
  • Read, and read some more:

At the same time, I’m drawing courage from my freedom-fighting family members, like my ancestor Owen Lovejoy, who worked hard to end slavery in D.C. and lost his brother to the cause when his abolitionist printing press was torched. I take comfort in knowing that even Abraham Lincoln thought Owen Lovejoy was “too incendiary.” But I bet Owen knew which side of history he was on.

And yet, not everything is dark. In the Union Square subway station, the street artist Matthew Chavez has set up a wall of compassion (that’s what I’m calling it), featuring one of my favorite inventions, the Post-It note. I took a brief video of it:

And there is still poetry. I went searching for one of the poems I loved most in my twenties, by the surrealist poet and activist Mary Low. I leave it with you now:


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