I’ve been angry for four years and will be. The rage is an undercurrent that settles as tension. I’ve also been happy, heartbroken, stressed, and sad. Sometimes a person can be happy and sad at the same time when reaching a story with a bittersweet ending.
It has been a long four years. Our country is on fire in a bad way, and racists and sexists have been legitimized. Genocide is actively happening in our backyard, and we have proven that no, we Americans are not superior to people that remained complicit. A TED talk mentioned that a version of the travel ban went through, and we have a judge who inspired The Handmaid’s Tale up for a Supreme Court spot. Oh, and a certain fraud lied about his taxes and will probably not suffer consequences for that.
And yet.
We find little reasons to keep going. I’ve been baking more since the pandemic, although there are fewer people willing to be guinea pigs. My friends are excited about a new collaborative project for Halloween. We’ve been receiving absentee ballots and preparing to write to people to vote, please, and don’t go red this year. It would be very racist and show that you are complicit in genocide.
I’m going to be angry forever, especially if November goes wrong. There are quite a few people that won’t be let off the hook for their actions and attitudes. But at least there are reasons to find joy, and to work past the truth that humans can suck a lot when they’re oblivious to their evil qualities.
