Back in Time- A Black Woman's Acceptance
Tuesday night I went to bed jamming to Black Beatles by Rae Sremmurd, Wednesday morning I woke up to my friend saying "The next President of the United States, donald j. trump." Though concerned Tuesday night, I still had hope. I unplugged from social media and CNN and went to sleep hoping America would stop this habit of constantly disappointing me. Although Hillary was far from my first choice in this joke of an election, I'd prefer she be our 45th President even though I take an L either way. Next day, I navigated my day with fear and dread at the top of the list of all my emotions processing the results. There is no hope for a nation with values rooted in hate. As a black woman, I have been robbed of hope time and time again.
I moved slowly that morning, not feeling much due to shock. I found my groove and finally made it to my car. I played Revolution by Kirk Franklin and ignored the stares as I belted out the lyrics with a huge smile on my face. Call it denial if you will. I made it to the station where I catch my shuttle to work and then it hit me, this dusty ass bitch is the next President of the United States. Cue the anger. How? Why? Questions lit me up like fireworks on the 4th of July. My blood was boiling and I directed it at people internally- it's your fault if you didn't vote, it's your fault if you voted third party, it's your fault, it's your fault, it's your fault. No, it is solely the fault of donald's supporters and voters. If people didn't choose to vote, they still exercised their right and if people chose to vote third party, they did what they thought was right and made decisions they could live with and I respect that. When the anger quelled, the fear set in. Fear for the future and what it will look like with donald and Satan (read: pence) in power. Fear for who they will appoint to sit in the seats of the Supreme Court. Fear for how other countries will retaliate to their threats. Fear for who they will choose to be in charge of the police force. Fear for the communities I grew up in. Fear for the children I volunteer with. Fear for my life after the constant devaluation it has endured. Thoughts of a revolution surfaced from somewhere deep within me and I listened to some comforting interviews Malcolm X did while he was still blessing the Earth with his presence and one particularly stood out. In the video, Brother Malcolm speaks as if he was alive today and has just heard the results of the election. He speaks about black people being sleep and instances like this waking the masses to stand on their own without relying on the majority. To not trust those who say they are for us while secretly voting against us (read: for donald). After that, I controlled my emotions and started to think how to channel my anger into constructive action and from then until now, I'm still pondering. The shuttle pulls up to the hospital and I brace myself for the uncomfortable conversations I usually smile through with coworkers. The whole ride over I concluded that today I would not fake it through the day to comfort others, I would let my frustrations be known. I held conversations on how donald and Satan have finessed their way into the White House coasting on the hate they lauded and brought to the forefront of so many cowardly Americans. I answered questions like "do you think they know what they're doing?" with "they know exactly what they're doing and what they've done- they intend to create war domestically and abroad." I answered "how are you's" with "not doing so well," or "could be better," instead of the usual "fine" in the midst of psyche striking trauma. I held my own as the youngest in every room because the time to stay quiet has long passed. The conversations died down and it was finally time for lunch and I planned on caring for myself as best I could in that hour. I splurged on the fancy $10 salad because I deserved it for leaving the house this morning despite the news and making it though half the day focused on work whilst simultaneously fearing for my safety and future. I sat in the "healing garden," under a tree with just enough sunlight flowing through to calm me and I wrote in my journal. I avoided writing about the elections because current Olivia doesn't even want to discuss it, so I doubt future Olivia will want to relive the mess. The rest of the day was relatively calm, the conversations about impending doom stopped completely and I was able to focus on gathering my thoughts for this piece. To be a woman, a black woman, the daughter of immigrants, and unwillingly classified as "lower middle class," the day was overall an emotionally exhausting and physically draining one to say the least. I will say this though, the only way to fix the problem is to expose it. donald has done a damn good job at uncovering the racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, sexist and homophobic Americans and what they want for this country, now it's time to fix the problem with the passion that burns within us. Someone we don't have to settle with to defeat donald is being prepared for the job because every time they bury us, we grow in ways they never expected and cannot contain. Take care of yourself, express in healthy ways, support one another and stay up, we will survive as we always have and always will.
"They tried to bury us, they didn't know we were seeds." -Mexican Proverb
Article by Olivia Steadman-Oladipo