January 7, 2021
I woke up nipping at ankles. A teacup pup angry at no one deserving of it. Trying to bring down giants by their heels (while nowhere in the vicinity of giants).
Yesterday did not surprise me.
I woke up on November 9, 2016 with visions of yesterday.
It was 7 am in Cape Town, I cracked a beer and wept in front of the TV. A bottle of tequila tried to wash away the sepsis in my gut, my throat, my mouth because the beer was child’s play. The people carouselled in, a wake they were surprised to be joining. They grinned and said, “maybe this is what the US needs,” “maybe now things will change.” “…but at least it wasn’t Hillary.” Through migraine-inducing clenched jaws, I let the tequila marinate me into a numbness that warmed my belly and slowly fogged my brain into a cloud of boozy cotton candy. I wept because I knew, like millions of us knew that morning, that the next four years would cost more life than any one of us was prepared to give a country that had given us so little for so long.
The tired mantras “we are better than this. we deserve better than this” perpetuate the myth that the US is exceptional. That we have been chosen. That this devastation is merely a blip, an intermission — not the entire fucking play.
But it is, the entire. fucking. play.
I spent last night trying to find words that made sense. Not for me. For those who share dinner tables and beds with people whose hatred and ignorance have them comparing the events of yesterday to the marches for black lives this past summer. For those “agreeing to disagree” about human rights like its pineapple on pizza. For those who will continue to wake up to a privilege unscathed by the tragedy that is this nation.
But then I woke to the words of Saidiya Hartman …
“Resist the effort to explain, it enables the posture of white innocence. Right now, conserve your energy. Direct it towards modes of survival, rather than re-explaining histories of imperialism and slavery to white people.”
I also woke to the memory of the news I so briefly celebrated yesterday morning. Stacey Abrams’ unwavering commitment to a democracy, to a nation, that has given her and millions just like her, so little for so long.
We aren’t better than this.
We never have been.
But we can start trying to be…
…that’s how I plan on surviving anyway.
