The jig is so far up that it’s usually only Cosmonauts who get to see such rarefied views. It’s something that someone like me has peeped for a long while now, as pretty much the bulk of my blog posts can attest. But none of that matters to now. Because I’m opting out.
This is the first feeling I had watching the near end of Election 2016. A swimming metaphor. When you swim for a city team, like I did back in the day, there are invitationals. Swim meets you as a team get invited too. It’s all done on a point system; individuals efforts added together to make up a whole. Team with the highest points wins. Simple enough.
As a kid I learned to deal during the times when your team doesn’t win. I, naturally was one of the fastest swimmers on the team. You train and train and taper and train and break all your personal times and win all your races. You put in the work and and the time and the effort, but your team doesn’t end up winning. That’s how I felt initially.
Tired, spent, exhausted. Dispirited, feeling like all the efforts done over time were for pretty much nothing. Despite the voter suppression, intimidation, we showed up an showed out. There were some wins sprinkled in there, but the overall result: disappointing. Some people are afraid, angry, crying, going into crisis and all kinds of things. Pas moi tho. I’m doing what I do when the shit hits the fan.
I coalesce. I gather all the things that have fared me well in the past (I’m still here, aren’t I?) and I hold them close, and wrap them around me in a hard, strong, tough everlasting shell. I don’t know if that’s a healthy response, but I don’t care. I know what works. I hunker down, ride it out, execute Plan B-J and beyond as needed.
I don’t want to merely survive. I want to live. Most of you know that I’ve been talking about expatriating myself from this country. It’s been slow going for many reasons, mostly my illness. When moving to a whole other country one has to consider so many things. I have pets. I have certain healthcare needs. I am on disability – does the country of my choice allow for me to still receive my income? And so on. Daunting. But doable. So I’ve been going at my own pace.
Then along came Brexit and I had to reevaluate, since Scotland had been at the top of my short list for awhile. Now I’m left to wonder about my disability payments and travel plans in the new era that’s about to kick in. Real talk I wouldn’t have been ready to ditch anywhere sooner than 2-3 years, so navigating that under this impending regime was factored in. (Remember, Plan B etc).
But I digress. Sorta. This post is therapy for me so really if you’ve made it this far, kudos. I’m prolly gonna keep rambling, ya been warned.
Opting out. What does that mean exactly? Nothing really exactly. But since I’d already opted out of a lot of certain things, there’s not too many left. Mostly, I’m done working for anyone else but me. Oh sure, I know myself, I’ll slip up now and then, but for the most part I’ll stay my course. I’m a natural born Teacher and Helper so going against my nature has been difficult already. But I’ll manage.
White women, to the tune of 60%, voted for Trump. Those numbers indicate that it wasn’t all Republican women. Received 5×5: whiteness trumps gender. Now, on any given day, that’s been a “no duh” for me. But even I, who has done her best to not soil my eyes with audio or visuals of DT has seen and heard far too much. This is what I saw:
Misogynist. Sexist. Sexual Predator. Rapist. Child Molester. Pedophile. He brags on all of that. Has a court date in December regarding the rape of a 12 year old girl and a 13 year old girl. He is highly inappropriate with his daughters. Peep their body language around him. It might seem familiar to you, having had to duck and dodge hands and advances as you go about your daily life. He brags on his sexual assaults and speaks freely on his predatory practices. So much so, that for Oh So Many Of You the last straw was the thought of him grabbing your wife or sister or daughter’s pussy and then bragging to the world about it.
Except that wasn’t the last straw at all was it:
Interesting to watch all the celebrations and white women so excited to put their I Voted stickers on Susan B. Anthony’s headstone and woo yayy. I’d say she’s rolling in her grave, but I think not. She was famously racist and used white supremacy as the basis to garner support for her suffrage. She wanted nothing so much as to be on equal footing as white men and was insulted to her very core that Black men had the vote before she did. Use Google. Learn if you don’t know.
So she’s prolly dancing a jig in her coffin as white women got in formation and aligned themselves with their white men. What about that 40% you might ask? What about them indeed. While you might have taken your own self to the polls and voted against a racist sexual predator, you did little to nothing to talk to those in your life who you knew where going to do the opposite.
You didn’t put the work in. You didn’t. In fact your numbers dropped from 2012 when you racked up 42% for Obama. Also speaks volumes. And I repeat: Message received.
Enjoy the world you have ushered in, you are ill prepared to survive it, ladies. Me, in my coalesced state will make it through, as I have before. It’ll be shitty and my Buddhist faith and Pacifism will be tested. I’d like nothing more than to scratch your collective eyes out, but I’m gonna maintain.
There’s a lot of talk in the Black twittersphere about “we got work to do”, and “we’ll continue to fight” and all that. Wonderful. Do you booboo. I’ve had the life sucked out of me these past few years, and I have little energy left over for anything more than making sure I’m gonna be ok.
Operation Selfish Bitch is underway. It’s also my birthday today so yay I get to do whatever the fuck I want. I’m stretching that sentiment out for 365 days. So hit me up next November 9th and we can have a conversation.
None of this will change anything much, however. I haven’t been doing a whole hell of a lot. During Ferguson October I symbolically handed over the torch of Fighting, Protest and Battle to the younger set. I’ve been doing the simple small things to help out when I can. So rolling back in those things isn’t gonna shatter the Earth.
But what it will do is make sure that I go on to live the life that I want to live. Wherever that might end up being. I may have to pare things down and look more locally: Since New Mexico was also on my short list. Basically, I have options. So many don’t and won’t as this real life Handmaid’s Tale starts to kick in. I count my Blessings.
I also remember Octavia E. Butler’s novels Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents. Should probably read up on those three books. It might help you in surviving what is to come. Some of you are probably laughing and shaking your head at my supposed hyperbole. Just like y’all laughed and shook your head at the notion that a reality television hack could ever make it past the primaries.
Recommended: An Open Letter To White Liberal Feminists by Rhon Manigault-Bryant
I’d tell you to Wake Up, but remember, I’m done Helping and Teaching. Lie on this bed you have made. I hope you choke on it actually. I leave you now with a little ditty that sprang to mind as I saw events unfolding last night. It’s a lil bit rapey. But hey, loud and clear: that bothers you not, right? So Enjoy.
A bear there was, a bear, a bear! all black and brown, and covered with hair.
The bear! The bear! Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? Said he, but I’m a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair!
And down the road from here to there. From here! To there!
Three boys, a goat and a dancing bear! They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!
The fair! The fair! Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair! Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair! The bear smelled the scent on the summer air.
The bear! The bear! All black and brown and covered with hair!
He smelled the scent on the summer air! He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air! Oh, I’m a maid, and I’m pure and fair!
I’ll never dance with a hairy bear! A bear! A bear!
I’ll never dance with a hairy bear! The bear, the bear!
Lifted her high into the air! The bear! The bear!
I called for a knight, but you’re a bear! A bear, a bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair. She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
But he licked the honey from her hair. Her hair! Her hair!
He licked the honey from her hair! Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair! And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.
*Use of “Cosmonaut” instead of “Astronaut” and imagery of a
Russianbear: Totally on purpose. Wait and see! Hope you been brushing up on ya Cyrillic :)
If you don’t know, now you know; Russia: We Did Work With Team Trump During Campaign
UPDATE: In exactly one month to the day I wrote this post. Told Y’all.