This is not a political post. This is a human plea. This is a rallying cry shouted into the final eve before things change once more. Things always change once more, then once more after that. Nothing stays the same, nothing lasts, what will come will go. In the meantime, we have work to do.
Anger is the easiest outlet for those who do not wish for tomorrow to occur, rage the expression of least effort. Some smug disdain the easiest for those who wish what will be to be. The first of these can be channeled into something better, the latter cannot, so I urge both to heed this reminder when I offer it:
We have work to do.
Yes, both of us, on both sides of a very divided aisle, both sides of a fractured country. We have stitches to sew, we have threads to pull tighter to bring that chasm closer together, to shrink the distance to a width that will allow our voices to carry far enough to be heard.
There will be two ways the Inauguration will be witnessed tomorrow, two different viewpoints of the very same event. The event will occur, but we will not watch the same things, we will not hear the same words—for some it will be the black and white world of Kansas before the tornado came and swept Dorothy away, for others it will be the technicolor wonderland of Oz once the house landed and the ruby slippers were snatched from those feet soon to shrivel. Two ways, one event, and this is the way of it.
To those who will sit and lean against their tired couch cushions tomorrow with sorrow in their souls, who will scoff and sigh with each word Trump speaks, I ask you for the empathy to look beyond the preconceived notions you may hold, not of the man who will be promising to take care of this country, but the people who voted him into this office. Not all are as you paint them, not all are hateful, spiteful, not all are racist. Not all are phobic about sexuality, nor enemies of the LGBTQ community. They are as we are, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, they are family, they are those we stand beside in grocery stores and sporting events, those who listen to the music we listen to, binge the shows in late night hours and say “just one more,” when they should shut the television off. They are we, we are they, and we are more alike than we are different at the source of it all.
Find the ways we are the same, find the things we share instead of the examples of our dissonance. This is the beginning of empathy, and it takes work to do this. The longer we try, the closer those gaps will begin to appear, the louder the voices of us both, standing on each side, the less we will be forced to shout.
Still though, be prepared to teach them, be prepared to be guardians of what is good, and feel no fear in this. Gently, I ask you, but firmly, remind them of what equality means, what it should mean though it hasn’t had the chance to do so all this time, in all this expansive land. Do not abide the unkindness of those who prove themselves more different than the same, who highlight the worst parts of the movement that keeps moving further and further right, who keeps isolating their race against all others, who keeps trying to prove superiority.
Do not sit and watch as those who wish to burn down what we have spent centuries building gather their hammers and torches, do not wait until the fires have begun. Be vigilant, be wise, but always above all, be kind.
For those who will watch tomorrow with a sense of pride, who will listen to Trump take the oath of office again and will believe in his promises, I ask you for the grace of compassion and understanding for those of us who do not believe in the veracity of his words. Open your mind and let in the light of those who do not agree, see things how we see them, with worry, with fear, with apprehension that is born from the experience of the years we have already spent with your choice of captain at the helm.
See things through the eyes of LGBTQ families who worry about their right to love, to be loved, to be married, to adopt children, to have their own biological children with the help of IVF treatments. Try your best to understand that there are millions of Americans, just like you, who are terrified of their access to health care, who worry of their ability to make decisions of their own bodies, their own lives. These fears are real fears, they are justified in every possible way, and they are phobias that were created by threats and promises already made, some already delivered.
You, too, must be vigilant, and I ask this of you. Hold your leaders, those you campaigned for and fought for, and some even rioted to uphold, to a higher standard than ever before. Make them keep the promises that they make to ALL of us, make them prove every single day that their viewpoints are not falling into white supremacy and domination. Make them prove it, make them distance themselves from the worst of their followers, those who choose violence and destruction over peace and unity. Force them, with the constant threat of the loss of your support, to be better than they were, better than the minimum. Force the best from them, and have the courage to admit when they go astray.
Remember, too, that there is a reason so many are distrustful. Do not look across at us and see only those furthest left. There is a Venn Diagram in these United States, and more of us fall inside that center circle than you’d ever realize, if only we stripped out all the extraneous bullshit that taints the messages those above us speak in.
We love, we hurt, we laugh, we cry, we try our very best to take care of those we call our own.
We have work to do, my friends, all of my friends who will be watching tomorrow together. All of us who will be feeling so many different emotions, who will be shedding tears—some of terror, some of elation—we are more alike than we are different, and this is the first bit of work we must do. Remembering this. Focusing on this.
Be brave, be open-minded, be compassionate, be kind. This is what I ask of you, this is where we begin to heal.
Hold tight, we will get through it together. If this is my office, this is my oath.
To you.
Only together
can we survive the nightfall.
Our light must shine now.
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