Personal Responsibility

This will read much more like a journal entry than a blog. I guess. I don’t know.

I don’t know anything anymore.

When sitting in the eye of the maelstrom that is trump’s election to president, one must take several deep breaths, try to recenter, pick something in the storm to concentrate on, and just deal with that one thing. But there are so many things flying above your head, it is difficult to pick which to hold on to. It is spinning so fast. And there are just too many.

Every time you manage to hold on to an issue with any tenacity, you uncover some hidden level of depravity. Something else you wish you didn’t know. Why is he picking so many white supremacists? Why was his pick for VP so terrible? The AG will be whom again? And you always fly back to “How is this happening? Why didn’t we stop this?”

We were shitty advocates, that’s why.

We did not do our part from stopping this from happening. We did not protect our women friends, our minority friends, our friends with varied religions, or genders, or abilities, or orientations, or lack of wealth, health, well-being. We did not protect ourselves. As we can see ourselves in each of these people different from us. I know that while a gay, white man does not face the same dangers as a straight, black woman or even a straight, black man, I know they each, we each, share some danger. And we must in the very least, protect those people who need our protection.

But we didn’t.

We couldn’t make our friends and families see the differences in themselves that they should have protected. We didn’t make them see how the difference in us is a good thing. A beautiful thing. A thing to be celebrated. We allowed them to believe that we must all be the same or melt into nothingness. And they picked that exact same sameness that they always pick. Straight, Christian, white, male, and left each and everyone of us that are not that thing unprotected.

They did a much better job of advocating to their women why those women must relinquish their protection. They did a better job of convincing our men of the same thing. “It is so good over here on Straight, White Christian Male* Island that if you vote against yourself, we might let you get a peek. I mean, we aren’t going to let you in or anything but we will let you see what it looks like.” That was the totality of any promise I heard.

But to the right ears that message so hearable and so relatable and so enticing, that white women and minority men said, “Yes, I will sell out my interests just to see.” And poor, white males who did not read the fine print on *Rich Exclusively, Poverty Excluded, cast in their lots as well for a peek at the elusive.

I feel failed.

My arguments were not tight enough. What I offered was not a good enough deal. My reward was not grand enough. Maybe I was too bossy. Maybe my vocabulary was too lofty. Or too low. Or too something. Not right.

There are too many things flying around my head right now. I can’t really grapple on to any, but a prevailing one is personal failure.

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