… Is love, sweet love.
I went to bed after midnight last night with the slimmest optimism that HRC would become our first female President. At 4:30 I woke to begin getting ready for work and made the hour and a half commute trying to calibrate an appropriate response to what has happened. Frankly, I am terrified. I am sickened. I am a powder-keg of emotions set to explode. But there is work to do, and as last night’s results have SO CLEARLY DEMONSTRATED there is enough hatred, anger, and vitriol in the world without my adding to it. Like so many others, I have to face the morning accepting of the “new” reality – a reality that I had wanted to believe was only a small, marginal, and insignificant thread within the grander march of our history.
I have to rush off to teach and am typing this feverishly between the caffeinated commute and the start of class because I need to start the day by articulating a message of hope – even as everything literally remains dark outside. All I have for now is this:
Cry as needed. And face the day with bravery, kindness, and compassion.
Hatred has won an office, but it has not yet usurped our homes, our classrooms, our street corners, or our lives.
(I have to rush; more later.)