Courage.

Surprisingly, voting yesterday wasn't what got me.  That felt oddly normal, even uneventful.  What got me were the stories I started reading on the "Pantsuit Nation" thread on Facebook.  Stories of women and immigrants, of mothers and daughters, of African Americans and lesbians-- people whose narratives were set to change with the election of a female President.  The whole election, the importance of a female President had been obfuscated by Trump's bombastic presence, by the distraction of his fear-mongering and hate.  But yesterday, for me, for the first time, the emotion and the enormity of what it really meant to elect Hillary became real.  I fought tears all day.  I imagined telling Asher Wednesday morning that a mommy had become President.  I read, on the Pantsuit thread, stories about how many times women had been put down, shut up, ignored, and hurt; particularly when they challenged the safety of patriarchy.  I reflected on my own experiences and pulled together thoughts for a blog post, to be published on November 9th, 2016.  I listened to Guns & Ships on repeat and felt energized heading into the evening.  Something incredible was about to happen.  

And it did.

It started with Florida.  Then North Carolina.  And Ohio.  Around 10:30 p.m., while waiting for Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania to make themselves known, I started to feel an ache in my stomach.  Disbelief. Serious concern.  I sit here at 11:42 on Wednesday and Minnesota hasn't yet been called.  With 98% of the vote in, New Hampshire is down to a difference of less than 2,000 votes.  Something happened yesterday that is going to take me a long time to process.  I have moved through today in a haze of profound sadness.  I am so stunned at the number of people who voted for someone who is such a bully, who preyed on the vulnerability and fear of a nation.  I am made sick by the stories I've heard of children being so confused, so scared, at how this happened.  I'm heartbroken for my nephew who has been terrorized at school with threats that when Trump wins the Presidency, he will be taken from his mom, along with all of the other black kids, and forced to live somewhere else.  That he woke up afraid following a general election speaks volumes.  He is eight years old.  Children registering fear with the election of a new President isn't something that should happen in this country.

I want to be one of those people who today, is rising above: believing whole-heartedly in what they are saying when they proclaim that Love still Trumps Hate, talking about hope and the work we have to do, that it is more important now than ever before that we stick together and forgive each other and move forward.  I want to be there.  I want to think that.  But I am stunned.  And so sad.  And feel this immovable weight of grief for what our nation, not Trump, has told each other, our children, our refugees, our women, our immigrants, our minorities, our disabled, our.... how long can this list go on?  Dan Rather issued a statement following the decision and ended it with a single word: courage.  So that's where I am at now.  While feeling pukey sick all day, with tears flowing any time I focus on the outcome, I keep saying that one word over and over again in my head: courage. 



Thoughts from yesterday, with an amended last sentence:

For that time when I was "uninvited" to be on the math league team.  

For that time when the faculty advisor of the high school student council pulled me aside and told me I should not do the multiple leadership roles I was doing because I couldn't do any of them well if I tried to do all of them, and asked me to resign as student council vice president.

For that time my college professor asked me to dinner before grading my final exam when he knew my summa cum laude status depended on my grade in that class.

For that time the guy in the bar asked me if my boyfriend went to Yale when I was wearing a YSPH sweatshirt.  

For that time my thesis advisor told me I wouldn't find someone to love me because guys don't want smart wives.

For that time when my supervisor asked me if I could borrow someone's glasses before presenting data to emergency room physicians because "they won't take you seriously if you are pretty".

For that time a fellow member of a leadership team asked the age of two female candidates, and then asked if anyone knew if they had kids or were planning on having families.  

For that time I was called a secretary... and told to make coffee... and asked to make copies... all in the same hour, all by the same person.

For all the times that people have underestimated me because I am female.  For all of the times people have assumed my intelligence & skills can't compete with my male counterparts.  For all the times friendliness was taken as flirting and invited unwanted attention, and assertiveness was taken as a threat and led to punishment.  For all of the times I have been expected, and had to, change my approach because my audience wouldn't take me seriously as a woman. 

For all the times.  For all the girls.  We did it. have so much more work to do.