The Things That Hurt

Election Day + Two Weeks

It’s two weeks today. It feels like it’s been two years, but it’s only been two weeks. And there are so many things that hurt. My heart, my brain, my heart, my muscles ache more than they usually do, and again… my heart. My heart hurts.

A warning. If you are looking for a post that will hype you up for the work ahead, this is not it. Well not really. I will get to the looking forward part but today… not so much. I write because it’s cathartic for me. These essays have become a way to discharge my agitation about the world and be honest with myself and others about the hard stuff I hold deep down inside. My writing has become an essential outlet for me, and if my words help others gather their thoughts about the hard stuff, I am thrilled to play that role for them. Right now I need to talk about the things that hurt. This is a woefully incomplete list, but a start nonetheless. And before I can truly ground myself in the immense amount of work ahead, I have to speak to the hurts.

It hurts to know that so many people - tens of millions of people - voted against the issues I care most deeply about. And against people I care deeply about. I wasn’t feeling terribly optimistic going into the election and I was prepared to rail against the electoral college that I feared was going to hand Trump the presidency. But when I saw that he won the popular vote… I naively did not see that coming. That’s a whole other aspect of this election that somehow makes things feel so much worse.

It also hurts that the issues I have adopted as my life’s work will be so adversely impacted by the next administration, which means that the people who face those issues will be profoundly impacted. I know a lot of people are arguing about what went wrong and who’s to blame and what we need to do differently, and I sort of get that. But only sort of. Because all I can think about is the people who will be harmed by this administration and what we have to do to mitigate that harm. The planet too, but that is so totally out of my wheelhouse I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. But I do know with certainly that people will suffer, and that’s hard for me to sit with.

I think about the gains made in addressing gun violence over the past four years, with the creation of the White House Office of Gun Violence Prevention and historic investments in community violence intervention programs. If you’ve read one of my earlier posts you know I celebrated a vote for Kamala Harris as a vote for violence prevention, because we knew she would prioritize continuing this work. This life saving work. It’s so painful to think that this work will be derailed, because it is inevitable that its disruption will lead to actual people being hurt.

It hurts to know that children across the country saw a presidential candidate model violent and abusive behavior, and then saw their parents vote for him anyway. It’s painful that such verbal abuse was being normalized for young men and boys. And my heart breaks for the survivors who had to hear such violent rhetoric treated as acceptable political discourse. It is one thing to suffer the trauma of domestic and sexual violence. And it is a whole other thing to have society accept that violence as normal. Now I cry for the countless survivors who have to live with the following fact. People saw his abuse. They heard his violent words. And they voted for him anyway.

My heart hurts for the trans community, many of whom live in states that were flooded with disgusting and hateful ads filled with absolute lies. The same folks who had to see their very existence turned into a political football. My heart hurts for the Haitian community, who endured racist lies spread by the very people that many of their neighbors then picked to lead the nation. And my heart hurts for the children who were ripped from their parents’ arms at the Southern border. All of these children, and their parents, are living with the trauma inflicted by our very own government. It really hurts to know that millions upon millions of people knew that the Trump administration implemented these evil policies, and then voted for him anyway.

And now, two weeks after the election, so many more painful things have happened. Our wounds feel raw from the devastating loss and so much more has been heaped upon us in the form of emboldened extremists and horrific nominees. From young white men marching with signs saying “your body, my choice” to the laundry list of abusers Trump has nominated to positions of power, it’s all been too much to process.

It just hurts.

There is so much work ahead. The work to mitigate the harm that will inevitably define the Trump administration. The work to continue to make progress where and how we can. And I do believe we CAN make progress on a state and local level - I truly do. But before I can move past the hurt and move my heart and head into action, I have to acknowledge the grief and loss that I have felt since the election. And the anger. Because I am angry. I am angry that my children have fewer rights and less safety than I did at their age. I am angry that people I care deeply about will be put at further risk because people voted against their safety. I am angry that people I will never meet have been put at further risk. And I am angry that so damn many people voted against the safety of others - and ultimately themselves. I am so very angry.

I have to speak the hurt and anger aloud so I can process it and get to work. Because get to work I must. I have a job to do. It’s to spend the rest of my days fighting to make the world a better place for the rest of my kids’ days. I will do this for my kids, and for everyone else’s kids as well.

That is my job. I will pack up my hurts and stuff them in my backpack. I will take them to work with me. And they will inform me, guide me, and motivate me.

There is so much work to do.