Four weeks ago, I wrote this post.
I have to take it back. The election results proved me wrong.
I’m grieving. Not because I have policy disagreements with the winner. Not because the lady didn’t win. Those things matter, but it’s so much bigger than that. I’m grieving because a person who rode to power on a calculated surge of hatred and bigotry, who dishonors women and brown people and any kind of Other in myriad ways—I’m grieving because only half the country rejected that. The other half rewarded it, or at the very least, thought the bullying and vulgarity and incitement to violence was unimportant enough to ignore.
I know I know. People voted for Trump for many reasons. I know that white working class people (men and women) are in pain, that they are angry, that they feel left behind and misunderstood. I know. But are straight white men entitled to their pain, anger, and fear, while everyone else’s pain, anger, and fear comes second, or is dismissed? That would be a pretty good definition of patriarchy. In fact, that’s not a bad definition of white supremacy.
A full half of America, unconsciously or not, has signaled their continuing investment in it. I just don’t see any excuse for that. No, not even abortion.
It’s been crushing this week to see my students grieve. It was the first election where they could vote. They were envisioning an America where we fully honor women, where we include everyone. It was a beautiful vision; they were ready to grow up into it.
Now they feel slapped in the face. If they hadn’t felt that slap before, they feel it now. Those who have been slapped many times, for being different in one way or another, are just weary to the bone.
They’re afraid. So am I. We have reason—already.
I am not one bit comforted by white people assuring everyone that “Jesus is Lord.” Instead, I am grateful for those who speak words of encouragement, faith, and defiance out of their painful history of receiving the blows of hatred and suspicion. There are words we ought to say, and many people are saying them well. Still, for me right now, it’s hard to receive them.
Steven quoted Lear on Thursday in his beautiful post. I’ll quote Lear, too. Here are Edgar’s final, devastated words in the play:
The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel and not what we ought to say.
Today, that is all I have to say.
The reasons you put forth for not voting for Trump are valid reasons, but the reasons for not voting for Clinton were much greater for half of the nation. Does that makes us all ignorant women haters and haters of people who are not white? I think thought. I find it sad when inclusivity is preached by the left, as long as it agrees with their “always” correct philosophy on life.
Good help for what I have to say to my congregation tomorrow.
I am glad I am not the preacher tomorrow! I am the organist and somehow we are going to need to sing as one–“Great is Thy Faithfulness” and “Forgive Our Sins as We Forgive.” For the second time this week, I am sharing this blog on Facebook.
It’s been a long campaign, most of us are weary. Must we endure passionate, partisan, political commentary even here?
Deb, you are a voice of reason in a time that needs such words. Thanks.
Thanks Debra.
Hi Deb! Remember me from
years ago at Herman Miller? A good friend turned me on to your wonderfully insightful blog. Now I’m a regular “fan”. This post election one expresses how I feel so well. Thank you and Hi after many years!
I grieve, too. Thank you, Deb.
Thank you, Deb, for this pastoral word. Much needed!
I can’t remember the last time I wrote a sermon on Saturday. Goodness knows I tried earlier in the week but couldn’t do it.
For me, it is all this that you name AND I serve a congregation in DC. About 1/2 my congregation that is of working age works a government job and the do so out of a deep sense of Christian vocation (one that many of them learned at your institution of higher learning 😉 Inasmuch as this election was also a punch in the face to “big government”, I can assure you my people feel that too. And it feels like a betrayal of promises and shared values in that respect as well.
Thank you, Deb. With you.
Deeply grieving with you. On Monday I stood 20 feet from Hillary. My daughter was at the rally too as was a colleague and his little boy, as was an African-American female pastor I know well and about 5,000 others. We thought we were on the cusp of history. We were. It’s just not the history we wanted or need in this country.
Ah but your previous post was not wrong. It is too late– what we are seeing is the throes of death. The old world is passing away. There will be suffering and pain, no doubt. And we must fight against the hate and fear. But– this is how the future voted https://news.fastcompany.com/this-is-how-the-future-voted-4024547
Thank you for this. Captures so much of what I am feeling and grieving along with you.
Thank you Deb.
We grieve from a position of privilege. We need to stand with those who don’t have that position, and respond out of love.