I sit at my kitchen table, listening to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, looking back at a week no one could have ever expected. This is where it all lies: Expectations. I remember going out on a Saturday morning with my three year old daughter. I left behind independent boys and my husband. While I was away, I fantasized about how much he would get done around the house. I was imagining a clean kitchen, tidy play room and shiny floors. When I returned home a few hours later, the house was upside down, just how I had left . At first, I was very angry. I couldn’t think why it had not been cleaned. I stayed with the feelings long enough to realize it was rooted only in my fantasy. In the expectation that my husband would take the opportunity to clean the house. I had not asked him or communicated my wish for a clean house. Therefore, the anger had to be directed at my expectation NOT at my husband.
In the weeks leading up to the 2016 US Presidential Election, I found myself emotionally enthralled. I watched all of Hillary Clinton’s rallies. I compulsively researched controversies and conspiracy theories right wing reporters gratefully spread. I listened to podcasts and read her books. She, as all of us humans, has made some mistakes. Some greater than others. I watched polls closely and anxiously waited the moment the glass ceiling would shatter. When girls and women could look to the future as bright and endlessly possible.
Last Tuesday evening, I made myself a stiff drink and sat in front of the television waiting for the results to roll in. Once Florida and Ohio went red, I went to bed. Through the tears, I whispered to my husband: “They always win.”
I spent the last week in mourning. Feminism got a great big blow to the teeth. Equality for women was pushed off the playground. Sexual abuse, racism, bigotry and bullying has, once again, been normalized. “They always win.” But it didn’t win. SHE won. More people in America voted for a well prepared, intelligent, well spoken and experienced woman. I try to find solace in that.
I also decided to remove myself from Facebook after I noted a friend’s post claiming Canadians are to remain without opinion; we don’t get a vote. Let us be very clear: we will NEVER quit speaking the truth and point out abusive behaviour.
Today is Sunday. The only tear I shed was over Kate McKinnon’s rendition of Hillary Clinton singing Hallelujah. I am still heart broken over what was lost. NOT who lost.
To the Trump supporters: the election is over. You won. There is no benefit in resoundingly reminding us of what has happened. We saw. We heard you loud and clear. What we are doing is making some space for the sorrow and the loss. We are not “pearl-clutching” or dwelling. We are devastated. Devastated that over 50 millions Americans felt they needed to remind all women, African American, LGBT, and other minorities not to think for a moment we are equals. What we are doing is tightening our bra straps, protecting our vaginas and looking inside our deepest selves to channel the anger. When we are ready, we will get off the floor and fight like hell. As poised Hillary reminded us in her most difficult and gracious concession speech, “never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.”
To all the women who saw themselves in Hillary, I get it. I understand the transference. A brilliant woman losing to a rich white man who says whatever crosses his mind. I understand how watching him lurk behind her during the second debate triggered old feelings. How the mention of grabbing women by the genitals being dismissed as “locker room talk” is a reminder that it is easier to stay quiet. Well, I am DONE. I will not be quiet anymore. I will speak up. I will act. I will fight.
Let’s give ourselves time to heal. Let’s keep an eye on those whose healing might not come and let us help them. Let us love. Let us love those who are not so easy to love. They most likely need it desperately.
To Hillary Rodham Clinton: Thank you. Thank you for lighting my fire which was put out so many years ago! This election was personal for many of us. You proved we are worth fighting for.
I am Nasty. I am raising a Nasty girl and some Nasty loving boys. Love WILL prevail.