You don't need another election take
so here's mine?
The day after the election in 2016, I wore my favorite black and white dress with a huge belt that felt like Wonder Woman armor. That day was devastating in part because we were so unprepared for it; in my blue bubble I simply wasn’t aware of how deeply held the racist and misogynist beliefs were that gripped half the country (though then, at least she won the popular vote). This year should ostensibly feel worse — these people knew exactly who they were voting for: a criminal, a rapist, a greedy manchild with zero empathy and unlimited power blah blah blah — and they do not care about all the things they know about this monster and all the garbage in his orbit. But somehow, it doesn’t feel worse to me. I don’t feel blindsided. I’m not really surprised, because in the last four years, we’ve1 largely done nothing to avoid this outcome. We have watched and listened to and read quotes from his supporters and shook our heads at their cruelty and ignorance knowing that we cannot change their minds, but hoping that there aren’t enough of them to bring this man back into office. We were wrong, but I wasn’t all that surprised about it. And even if the outcome was not in fact the will of a majority, but driven by Russia and billionaires like Elon and was actually stolen, that isn’t surprising either.
I cried on and off all day at work in 2016. This year felt different, heavier because the consequences this time around are likely to be much more severe, more damaging to more people, absolutely disastrous for the planet, all in ways that we can glimpse but not fully realize yet. But I didn’t cry. I felt blessed that instead of being full of blame, shock, confusion, and data analysis, my feed was instead full of strategy and hope:
And if you don’t already subscribe to Margaret Killjoy’s Substack, now is the time:
As the days have worn on, I’m seeing less of this and more analysis, which is fine, but that doesn’t interest me as much, partly because none of the analysis we did in the last two elections seemed to matter at all. I’m interested in the moving forward, in finally learning what community and direct action mean to those of us with privilege. This year I chose bright colors for the day after the election as a symbol of hope, and huge lug-soled boots as a symbol of weight and grounding. The dress is 1930s, and I’m making some educated guesses here but it was handmade by an unknown woman, probably a mother and grandmother, sewing each seam and buttonhole. One of the things I love so much about vintage clothing is the connection to all the women who have come before us, who lived in desperately challenging times, caring for their families and communities in ways we today can hardly imagine.
We are woven together in these pieces of fabric. May we relearn how to weave them.
By “we” I'm mostly referring to Democrats, the white liberals who heard the warnings about needing to build community and did not because we felt safe and also because we did not learn how, and to party leaders who did not understand that their adherence to capitalism and genocide at all costs would not resonate with progressive voters, etc. I know that a lot of people have been doing things, but plenty have not.