Inspired by local PRIDE celebrations last month.
It's been a difficult week for this country. It's been a difficult week for our children as well. For the first time, my kids watched the presidential debates as part of a homeschooling exercise. The Eldest was horrified by Trump's bullying body language and the girls could not believe a man like that would be elected to represent what they believe is the greatest country in the world.
On election night, as they looked at us in horror, we sent them to bed and promised it wasn't going to be as bad as it looked. Then the man and I stayed up and realized it was. We held our breath and gnashed our teeth and stumbled our way through a 10th wedding anniversary.
The good news is that we are coping and learning more about how to save our communities. The bad news (at a micro-level) is that my kids don't think America is great anymore. My kids think America is mean and nasty and what it takes to lead America is even meaner and nastier.
And so I find myself arguing with my kids about what makes America great.
And realizing (again and again) that no politician makes America great-- what makes it great is the diversity of its people.
For the record, I'm not going to engage any discussions on how Trump doesn't mean what he said. If he didn't mean what he said, then everyone who voted for him knowingly elected a liar. (Even though polls report that what voters held against Clinton was the belief that she lied.) Somebody is lying. Many are lying to themselves. There is a lot of lying going on and it's pretty ugly. I'm not going to be part of those lies. I'm not going to bring those lies into my house and foist them on my children.
Again: I'm not going to lie to my kids to explain why friends or family voted the way they did. I think it's best done directly, person-to-person. That's your job, not mine. You can tell my kids why and let them ask questions.
I will not be an apologist for your vote.
I will not tell them that you didn't mean all the racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, classist, sexist, cruel things he said.
If I do that, I will lose their trust. They heard his words. They believed him. That has become a national problem.
And then there is life, itself, which leads children to draw their own conclusions based on experience.
Today, between ballet lessons, the kids wanted to do something to tell all the people who are scared and hurt and suffering that this is still their America. Their urge was inspired by a faith which holds all persons equally and considers every human to be equally deserving of life, liberty, and opportunity. So we got a small box of chalk and sat near the Bama Theatre in Tuscaloosa where teen beauty pageant contestants were prepping for tonight's event.
The kids wanted to draw on the white, unbumpy sidewalk but I urged them closer to the street so we wouldn't interfere in photos and poses. The message was simple-- to assert love and solidarity with all the persons threatened by Trump's election. That's what they wrote.
And yes, pageant queens whispered and muttered things like "snowflake" and "crybabies". Milla wanted to know why they kept walking past and taking pictures of us. I told her they were curious.
One mother (who walked past at least four times glaring at me as if I was a demon) said to her daughter that "they must not be Christians".
Because we wrote "This is all of our America. We love you."
And so it went.
Later, as I waited for the kids outside the ballet studio down the street, aware that several "homeschooling friends" had recently de-friended me because I did not vote for Trump, trying not to make things awkward for those persons whom I see every week, a beauty pageant boyfriend tried to erase the words with his shoe as the beauty pageant contestant giggled.
I did not cry.
In the car, we talked about voices and democracy. Milla liked the idea of being a snowflake and Micah was annoyed at being called a crybaby while not even crying.
Because everyone in my family knows I'm the crybaby.
I'm the one who cries in church or at movies or concerts or sunsets or a luna moth drying its wings on the wall.
But the love letter made them feel better. It gave them a voice, however tiny. If we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit we don't give kids much of a voice in this world which surrounds them. We pretend they can't hear what we're saying and then-- if they ask-- we say, "Oh, nothing honey. I was talking to Daddy." Or maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm the only one that tries to be a parody of fair-and-balanced. Which fails.
Despite my fear and discomfort and sadness at losing friends-who-weren't-friends to begin with, I'm holding out hope that our voices can make a difference.
I want to encourage everyone to get some chalk and some hope and hit the streets with love. Write some neighborhood love notes to counter the messages. Don't get bogged down in arguments about safety pins. Don't sit around and entertain the mansplaining events which have become rather prodigious. Attend protests.
Get involved in local activist groups and DO STUFF.
Do more. Don't stop.
Don't debate whether it's too small an act or too fancy or too whatever.
JUST DO IT. Keep doing it.
This is going to be a long walk. Don't bail out or burn out or get consumed by your anger. Be angry and let yourself experience it but don't let it own you.
Trust love, justice, and solidarity to lead you.
I repeat: love, justice, and solidarity are companions you will never regret.
Don't worry about what people say. It's not your problem or my problem.
Our problem is this: showing love, creating safe spaces, and fighting through activism and engagement to make America great. Guess what? No one else can make America great EXECPT US.
