Monday, Nov. 4, 2024 (10:18 p.m.)
Dear Wednesday Morning Me,
Tomorrow, we will experience a critical moment in history — regardless of the outcome. America is somehow deciding between a KKK-endorsed-fascist-two-time impeached-anti-women-egomaniac and the first Black and South Asian Vice President who insists on maintaining unwavering support for Israel. But Americans before us have not sacrificed blood, sweat and tears to go back now.
When I think about the election, I think about Fannie Lou Hamer, who organized Black folks to vote during one of the most politically violent periods for Black Americans. She was beaten almost to death in her jail cell, sexually assaulted and blinded for the crime of exercising her civil right to vote. Hamer survived by the grace of God and through song. She survived because that is what Black women do. I think about how I lined up at my local library on my birthday — the first day of early voting in New York — with my mom, aunt and cousin to cast my ballot. Without facing persecution or risking my life to do so because of people — Black women — like Hamer.
When I think about the election, I think about my faith. I think about Romans 13:8-10 which tells us that “Love fulfills the Law.” We owe nothing to each other but love; it is our greatest privilege to live while loving our neighbors.
When I think about the election, I think about the Central Park Five, now the Exonerated Five. The five men who were once boys whom Donald Trump called the death penalty for in a full-page advertisement in the New York Times. I think about Trayvon Martin, who made me realize at a young age that people would see me first as Black before anything else. I think about Philando Castile and his girlfriend and daughter, who witnessed his murder. Michael Brown, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Atatiana Jefferson, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and Tamir Rice. I think about Aiyana Stanley-Jones, only seven years old, sleeping in her bed. I think about the fact that I know these names and stories from memory. We keep record. Then I think about how Trump wants to grant police officers immunity, which they seem to already have.
When I think about the election, I think about my faith. I think about Romans 13:8-10 which tells us that “Love fulfills the Law.” We owe nothing to each other but love; it is our greatest privilege to live while loving our neighbors.
When I think about this election, I am both optimistic and scared. I think about Hamer’s words: “I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.” But the tide is turning, and people are beginning to pick up books.
Wednesday, Nov. 6, 2024 (3:16 p.m.)
When I think about this election, I think that we have nothing to lose but our chains.
Dear Monday Night Me,
Yesterday, we experienced a critical moment in history. When I wrote my letter to myself the night before the election, I was hopeful — absolutely terrified — but still hopeful. This morning, at 6:46 a.m., my best friend woke me up so we could check the fate of our futures together. At that moment, I felt still. I was not terrified, and I was not hopeful. I was just, still. We opened our phones to the tab that had already been open all of last night. At the same time, we saw the number — 277. The presidency had been called. I would be lying if I said I was not the slightest bit surprised. Not because I am disillusioned with the lack of faith in the current administration, the implications of a genocide, or the vitriol of half the country but because I could not believe that America voted against freedom. Yet at 6:47 a.m., the cars outside my window continued to honk their horns, the ambulances continued to blare their sirens, and people continued their commute to work. Most importantly, the sun continued to rise. And so will we.
Then, I went to church.
Yesterday, millions of Americans decided that false promises of lower grocery prices are worth more than healthcare, education and freedom. Now, all of America will see an additional several trillion dollars added to the debt and more tax cuts for billionaires.
Yesterday, millions of Americans decided that the Democratic administration failed to earn their vote. I will not place full blame on non-voters, but their choice will lead to us grieving more lives. I will not debate whether Americans deserve this fate as punishment because the truth is that Americans who voted for Kamala Harris voted for life, and we should protect as many lives as possible. Here on American soil and across the ocean. We should have collectively voted to prevent as many deaths as possible. We should have voted for, at the very least, a better opponent. Someone who will allow us to demand better without the threat of unconstitutional censorship, which is now a real possibility.
Yesterday, millions of Americans decided that false promises of lower grocery prices are worth more than healthcare, education and freedom. Now, all of America will see an additional several trillion dollars added to the debt and more tax cuts for billionaires. We will see even less concern for the climate. We will see a president re-enter office who has degraded and laughed at every single American demographic. Yesterday, we saw exactly why education is so critical — and protecting education was on the ballot. Supporters of Trump will spew rhetoric that we can disagree on politics and still be friends. No, we can not. As the author Robert Jones Jr. said, “We can disagree and still love each other, unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” Deciding not to participate in politics does not mean that politics will not affect you.
America faces a problem that has existed since its inception: misogynoir. I was hopeful that maybe this time, America would be ready for a woman in power; however, it seems a Black woman is too “radical.” People fear the strength of Black women. Black women are told they are intimidating and, in the same breath, expected to organize revolutions. As they always do, Black women showed up yesterday to vote for someone who represented them. Not just because she looked like us but because she was a qualified Black woman in the ways that mattered for now. Unfortunately, the results have proven what Malcolm X said and what we Black women have known for centuries: The Black woman is the most disrespected person in America.
In this country, people are willing to allow a rapist, felon and twice-impeached president into the highest office in the nation before they allow a Black woman in. Hatred toward Black women permeates this country to its core, and people are not ready to see what we already know to be true: Black women have carried this nation on their backs. This hatred is underscored, however, by fear. America has been built by the exploitation of Black people, the working class and undocumented immigrants. If America could allow a Black woman into power, it would reflect that progress has been made for everyone to see. But, of course, millions of Americans want us to go back. To diminish what progress has been made. For those wanting to move forward, we are allowed to grieve before we roll up our sleeves again. To mourn a future that seems grim.
Past all of the disappointment, there is still hope. Hope is what keeps the struggle alive. And freedom is a constant struggle.
Many will say we are overreacting. There is no overreaction to threats against a woman’s autonomy. There is no overreaction to threats against the sanctity of LGBTQI+ lives. There is no overreaction to the protection of the Department of Education. There is no overreaction to the removal of restrictions on immigration enforcement in schools, churches and playgrounds. There is no overreaction to someone who mocks people with disabilities. There is no overreaction to someone who said that Israel should “finish what they started” in Gaza.
Past all of the disappointment, there is still hope. Hope is what keeps the struggle alive. And freedom is a constant struggle. Today, after the sun had fully risen, a starling bird perched on our windowsill. We refused to accept that this was a coincidence and looked up the symbolism. In different cultures, a starling bird symbolizes freedom, community and healing. These are pillars in the fight for liberation. There is immense grief that comes with the results of the election for many communities. There will come a time in the near future when people will act because we must not be complacent.
People will pick up books, people will sing, people will pray and people will write. We should organize in whatever way is meaningful to us. We should organize because we have nothing to lose but our chains.
With a heavy and hopeful heart.