Today will be a reminder.
It is a reminder of the danger of apathy. A reminder that if you were among the 36% of Americans who did not vote, you will never sit on your hands again. I hope your conscience feels the weight of Trump’s hand on a bible.
Today needs to be a reminder that the majority of Americans did not vote for him. The majority of eligible Americans voted in a combined bloc for Kamala Harris, third party candidates, and no one.
Today is a reminder that there is a groundswell of people in this country who are just as horrified as you are, and that none of it matters unless we do something about it.
Today is a reminder that even though the path to Trump was paved by racism and sexism and misinformation, apathy cleared the way.
He is only possible when the people against him do nothing. It is so tempting to check out and self-protective to tune him out. Capping off a week of national mourning for communities in Los Angeles, unclenching 471 days grief around a ceasefire and hostage deal, the reality of Trump once again becoming president seems too much to bear. It is the undoing of relief in 2020 when he was ousted. The cruel irony of his inaugural parade on Martin Luther King day is too grotesque to stomach.
And to survive it, I am focusing on short windows of political productivity. There is so much in our control because we are the hiring committee for his managers: Congress. We have two years to turn our focus to every downballot race near us. To our nearest swing districts. Between now and 2026, every political dollar I can budget will go to making sure Donald Trump is checked into submission like it’s the fucking NHL.
Because as much as this is our day of reckoning, the midterms will be his.
Early this morning, I took my children sledding. They grinned in disbelief when they saw grassy hills they climb in the park transformed into a zooming sliding magic playground. And when they held each others puffer coat bodies on a plastic sled, shrieking with joy in a place they trudge across every day, I was reminded that nothing is permanent. Everything transforms. We just need a change of seasons, and a tiny push.
The terror and the beauty of change. Thanks, Bess.
Exactly what I needed to read this morning, thank you Bess. Sending you a big virtual hug today.