Guest Posts

I’ll start with feelings:

The election didn’t leave me feeling so much a sense of shock, as 2016 did, as much as a cold numbing sense of despair, quickly followed by a genuine sense of panic. I’m Jewish, and disabled, and queer, and non binary, and have mental health issues, about the only way I could be on more lists is if I was also a Spanish speaking black immigrant. It was a very rough few weeks.

I suspect, as they begin their fights to gut medicaid, a vital support and the only way I, and many others in similar circumstances to me, are likely to be able to get any kind of health insurance or access to care, so that they can pay for tax cuts that will benefit people who already have more money than they could spend in their lifetimes, that it will be a very rough few months or even years.

And that will likely only be the first salvo in a number of attacks of unknowable intensity against my various communities, and various other disenfranchised and marginalized peoples.

There are a lot of things about this election that are dangerously existential to vulnerable groups. It is, and will continue to be, terrifying, and heartbreaking, and horrific in many ways.

But what helped me turn the corner in processing my own emotions was remembering all the stories of the Holocaust, stories which are inescapable for anyone with even a modicum of Jewish education. Stories that I found myself turning to not for the examples of how cruel and barbaric human beings are capable of being, for I fear we may find ourselves with no shortage of new atrocities to remind us of that, beyond those we already have in the actions of Russia, and Israel, and Hamas, and others besides.

I found myself reflecting on our history, the history of that evil, not even as caution for how bad things can get, or how important it is to not treat a moment like this with complacency and a sense that things can continue as they are, though that too is, I think, important.

But I found myself reflecting most on stories of my people, facing an almost incomprehensible suffering, who had a clear sense of their own demise, and the actions they took in the face of that. Stories of how people could, under the worst of any imaginable circumstance, still find their way to kindness, to forgiveness, to acceptance, or even to resistance in full knowledge that it will not prevent thier death. You will forgive my vagueness here, my memories of all of these things blur together, and I don’t wish to misattribute or distort details on something this important, but I also don’t have the time or energy to go dig up sources.

I found myself asking how I would fare facing the same. Whether or not I would have the strength to find similar grace, to find my way to acceptance or forgiveness. And I came to the conclusion that it is, in fact, intolerable to me to meet whatever may come with hatred in my heart.

And so I strive every day to keep my heart open. To do my best to meet the moment with compassion, if not without much sorrow, and with as little anger and fear as I can manage.

I do this knowing there is a very good chance that things will get very very bad, that many people will be hurt by the next few years at minimum, that many may die. Democracy may or may not be dead. The future may be uncertain, but it is almost certainly going to be filled with some degree of additional pain for people who already suffering immensely.

I do this with the knowledge that there is no way to face that with an open heart that won’t hurt like hell. Just as there has been no way to face what’s been happening in Ukraine, or in Gaza, or in Syria, or Lebanon, or in many parts of the global South without pain. And even if the situation here does not devolve to anything even remotely as incomprehensibly horrific, the consequences of this election almost certainly will make all of those conflicts, or new ones, worse.

The world is awash in needless pain, unnecessary hardship, in cruelty, in a basic lack of humanity. It is exceptionally difficult to face the sheer weight of human suffering, and not be crushed by it, or else to not turn away, and refuse to bear witness.

It is difficult also, to not allow that suffering to transform into hatred for those responsible.

But this is corrosive. It closes the heart, and, perhaps, worst and most insidiously, it makes the victim invisible. It is subtle, but it is still a kind of turning away from that pain, and from those feeling that pain. Rage toward those doing horrible things may feel righteous, but it vanishes our shared connection to each other. If even only for that moment we are no longer experiencing empathy, no longer have a capacity for compassion.

So to keep the heart open is a difficult thing that will bring us much pain in the face of great suffering. And even if it’s the better alternative to turning away, in whatever form that may take, and I truly believe that it is, how then to deal with that?

I realize this will sound funny, given that I am very much failing in my desire at brevity, and given the nature of this community, but we can, and should, talk less and do more.

It is very easy to substitute, in our minds at least, talking about a thing with accomplishing anything of value. This is a trap that we need to avoid now more than ever.

I would call on people to get involved with something. To build community. Forge real and meaningful connections, and use them to make something tangible happen. I’m not sure it even matters what the things are, as long as they’re not designed to hurt other people.

Most importantly, find ways, always, to be kind. To others, to ourselves.

And this brings us to what I would say about values:

So much of what has gone wrong in our country, and in the world more broadly, fundamentally roots, to my mind, in the way we engage in disregard for each other. The ways we retreat from our common humanity, the ways we turn away from each other’s suffering, the ways that we prioritize self-righteousness, and self-interest over justice, indifference over compassion, lies over truth, ignorance over understanding, bigotry and hate over acceptance. The whole world is in an existential struggle between toxic and tonic masculinity.

We cannot fix this as individuals, we cannot fix this as a political party, and certainly as simple members of this community, we have very little power to affect the behaviors of very many people beside.

And even more than that, I think we’re about to face a discontinuity in our society, or at minimum in our politics; that things will not really be able to continue as they were or return to what we would have viewed as normal. It’s hard to say what we’ll need to do in the face of that. Predictions fall apart in the face of greatly changed circumstance; it doesn’t do us any good to be fighting the last war. It’s hard to say, even, whether that discontinuity will be for the better or the worse, in the long run, though our efforts will almost certainly matter there. And I won’t say I’m terribly optimistic.

But I think my optimism or lack thereof does not matter all that much to what I, really any of us, need to do in the face of what may be coming. And what that is is the same as it was before the election, the same as it’s always been, and always will be; to meet pain with kindness, anger with love, fear with patience. To put in the work of trying to make things better, in whatever ways we can, small or large. To stay involved, to stay open, to be curious, to care about each other, and to keep going, for as long as we can.

There is a zen saying: Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. I think there’s a corollary to our times: Before everything goes to shit: chop wood, carry water. After everything goes to shit: chop wood, carry water.

To the extent that, if we do that, and the rest doesn’t tend to itself, it’s really beyond our power to control.

Be kind.