World of Shit

            It’s official.  The world has gone to shit.  A racist, xenophobic, Islamaphobic, homophobic, transphobic, and otherwise hateful sexual predator has been elected president.  The people he is appointing to his cabinet are one human rights nightmare after another.  His vice president believes in conversion therapy.  People are angry, afraid, taking to the streets to voice their outrage and opposition.  People have been meeting and planning and strategizing for weeks about what to do and how to keep their loved ones and communities safe.  Meanwhile, indigenous people are being brutalized by militarized police (who apparently have no jurisdiction, btw) for protecting their sacred tribal land and something every single one of us needs to survive: WATER.  And while we’re on the subject of water, Flint still does not have clean water, yet Nestle is pumping and bottling and selling water at an outrageous profit not too far away.  I could go on and on about the horrible things happening right now in the world but (hopefully, if we are paying attention) we all know it by now.  All you have to do is scroll through social media for five minutes and you will be bombarded by atrocity after atrocity, people making excuses and justifying the numerous atrocities, and other people posing ideas about what the fuck the rest of us can do to help.

            Today is Thanksgiving, a holiday that was invented to cover up the genocide of the native people of this land, a day when we are supposed to gather together with our families and be thankful for all that we have while we stuff our faces with a multitude of comfort foods, most of which we only learned about from the very native people we killed for their land.  It is a day chock full of contradictions and hypocrisy, and this year it seems even more so. 

As I write this, I am sitting here at home in my predominantly white suburban neighborhood while my mother is cooking a turkey for our upcoming feast.  I know that I am a lucky person.  I have a roof over my head.  I have clean water out of the tap.  I have electricity and abundant, nutritious food and a family that loves and supports me.  I have a college education and access to decent health care.  I acknowledge that my white skin has afforded me privileges and luxuries that many people don’t have.  I know that while I am sitting here, warmed by electric heat, typing on a computer assembled in a sweatshop, awaiting a home cooked meal, that people at Standing Rock are being blasted by water cannons in subfreezing temperatures, shot by rubber bullets and mace and concussion grenades and god knows what else. 

I have seen the pictures and read the horror stories and watched the videos.  I have witnessed the mainstream media either completely ignore it or distort it in order to justify militarized violence against unarmed, peaceful people assembled on their own tribal land exercising their first amendment right.  It is easy to feel helpless and overwhelmed, and many of us do.  But we are not helpless.  There are things we can all do.  We can share the stories, stand in solidarity, and send donations of money and supplies.  Some people can travel to Standing Rock to join with the water protectors, and some people can attend rallies and protests closer to home.  We can make phone calls, send emails and letters, sign petitions, make our voices heard.  We can make small (or large) changes in our daily lives.  My point is, everyone has different limits of what they are able to do, but each of us can do SOMETHING. 

November is a difficult month for a lot of people.  Anyone who claims that Seasonal Affective Disorder isn’t real has obviously never lived in a place where it is gray and/or rainy for most of the year.  The days are painfully short and dark in November, and getting shorter and darker every day.  And it is cold here, the kind of cold that cuts you to your bones.  The holiday season in general is hard for a lot of people for a lot of reasons.  November, to put it plainly, kind of sucks.  This month is also the anniversary of the day six years ago when I almost died.  I’m not being dramatic here.  The emergency room doctor told me that the fact that I was sitting there, alive, in front of him made him believe in miracles for the first time in his scientific life.  It’s hard for me to talk about what happened that night, and I can’t do it in any detail right now.  Suffice to say that I reached the point where I believed with every fiber of my being that there was nothing left for me in this world.  There was absolutely no reason for me to be here.

I made a decision.

I was unsuccessful.

It turns out, I was wrong.  There is a reason for me to be here.  There is a reason for all of us to be here.  And it is in times like this when we need to remember that reason the most.  When the world has turned to shit, when our lives are falling apart (that’s a story for another time…), when everything is terrible and the weather is miserable and everyone is scared and angry and it seems like nothing will ever be okay again.  Because, seriously, how can it ever be okay again?  It can.  Trust me.

Probably not anytime soon, but someday, things will be okay.  And it won’t be easy, but as Clark W. Griswold famously said, “Nothing worthwhile is easy”.  A lot of people are gearing up to fight.  We have to stand up for the rights and lives of women, immigrants, Muslims, the LGBTQ community, and every other marginalized group that the Trump administration sees as less than human and not deserving of basic rights.  We have to stand up for indigenous people who are also fighting for their rights and lives.  We have to stand up for the environment and science and education.  And it is especially important today, Thanksgiving day, that we stand up for all of these people and all of these reasons and more.  But it is equally important that we take a step back from the fighting, at least for a moment, and remember what we have and be thankful for it.  We need to tell the people we love that we love them.  We need to offer help and support to people who need it.  If we find ourselves in a position of privilege, we need to use that privilege to help people.  Sometimes all it takes is a simple phone call, one minute of your time, to let someone know they are important to you.  Six years ago a one minute phone call literally saved my life.

Today I am thankful to be alive.  I am thankful that I have a place to live, a solid group of family and friends, a community, a job, an education, an IUD.  I am thankful to have access to clean water, delicious food, mental health care (for realz!), a dentist, and the flu shot.  I am thankful for my mother, who not only gave me life in the first place but gave me a place to live when I was out of options, and who has made me the person I am today who can survive anything, even things according to medical science I shouldn’t have.  I am thankful for my baby brother, who isn’t a baby but whatever, he is always the baby.  I am thankful for the rain and the trees and the earth and the soil and the bats and every other living thing.  I am thankful that throughout my life I have been able to offer help and make a difference in people’s lives and the world.  I am thankful that I ever had anything to offer, and I am thankful for the people who had help to offer me when I needed it.  I am thankful for the people who wouldn’t or couldn’t help me because it taught me to help myself.  And on and on I could go…

Every one of these people and things makes me who I am and gives me strength.  Sometimes I lose sight of all of this and fall into despair.  These are the times when I need to remind myself of all of the things I have.  These are my reasons for being here, for staying alive, for fighting.  It is easy to get caught up in anger and fear and sadness and forget why we are angry or fearful or sad.  It is easy to get caught up in fighting and forget why we are fighting.  Today I am taking a step back to remind myself, because if we forget our reason for fighting, then what is the point of even fighting? 

I know we have our own ways of fighting and our own reasons for doing so.  None of us needs to explain or justify our methods or reasons.  But maybe take a moment and remind yourself, then do something nice for yourself and for someone else.  Then get right back to it.

Now that I have reminded myself of my reasons (and also triggered myself by digging up some heavy shit), I’m going to eat delicious food with my family, drink red velvet hot cocoa, snuggle with my cat, and steady myself for whatever comes next. 

If you’re reading this, please remember that you are important and you are loved.