2017 has been one long decade…
If my wife Jen were being honest, she would probably tell you that I’m a pessimist.
I don’t care for the term. I just like to say that I like to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.
I try to anticipate the most terrible possible outcome, so that I am emotionally and practically ready when it all hits the fan—and because of this, I tend to prophesy on the side of disaster. This will often cause me to operate under the assumption that the worst-case scenario is indeed coming, that devastation is imminent, and that it all hitting the fan is a foregone conclusion.
As Election Day approached last year, I began to feel uneasy and would regularly forecast to Jen the coming doom I could sense on the horizon. She would show me the polls and tell me everything would be fine, and try valiantly to talk me down from the ledge I’d perched myself on. I’d simply reiterate that she should get ready for the worst-case scenario.
Now outwardly I may have been saying that, but in my heart I thought this wasn’t a remote possibility. I couldn’t conceive that such bitterness and ugliness would win the day here in the country that I call home and love dearly. I kept believing that goodness and decency and humanity would prevail. I think many of us felt that way.
On Election Night I said to my wife, “I have a plan. My plan is to take half an Ambien around 8:00 and go to bed. Feel free to wake me up if we get good news.”
The next thing I remember, is turning and looking at the bedside clock and it said 11:30 PM. I immediately wanted to reach for the other half of the Ambien.
And as that Tuesday night turned into Wednesday morning, the sickening reality began to sink in, and this inaugurated what for many of us has been an intense time of grieving; and not in some figurative, metaphorical way—but real, genuine loss at what felt like a death.
And in all honesty, the year has been worse than the worst case scenario I’d envisioned a year ago:
The ineptitude, recklessness, and sheer malevolence of this President has greatly exceeded my most dire predictions.
The vile, predatory nature of the GOP who’ve hitched themselves to him, has proven beyond comprehension.
And perhaps more than any thing, the violence and the unapologetic racism and bigotry of those supporting him has been a source of profound sadness—people I knew and respected and even loved.
It’s all been rightly terrible at levels that even an Olympic level pessimist couldn’t have imagined twelve months ago.
And yet, in spite of how terribly stomach-turning it has been and all the sleep I’ve lost and all the grieving I’ve done and all the worry lines I’ve acquired—I am genuinely giving thanks today for this year in Hell, because of what I’ve seen inside it:
I’ve seen millions of ordinary people become overnight activists; engaging with the political process and the with their local communities in ways they’d never have before.
I’ve witnessed vast multitudes march in the streets of this country and around the world, in solidarity and shared outrage.
I’ve seen thousands of people converge on airports to defend distraught Muslim families.
I’ve seen churches and mom’s groups assemble at PRIDE events to let LGBTQ people know they are loved and supported.
I’ve watched friends leverage their social media platforms to expose corruption and protest inhumane legislation and pressure elected officials into acting with decency.
I’ve seen Muslim bans fail and healthcare repeals be defeated and states defying Presidential decree, because good people have raised their voices en masse.
I’ve witnessed our Judiciary stand up time and time again to defend our Constitution and our people from those who would disregard both.
I’ve watched loud, defiant defenders of love and diversity outnumber and chase away Nazis and supremacists attempting to intimidate good people into silence.
I’ve met thousands of people in progressive churches and women’s groups and Indivisible gatherings and humanists conferences and interfaith services—all standing together to say that the hatred occupying the Oval Office does not speak for them, that it is not America, that it is not who we are.
I’ve seen the very best of humanity rise up in the face of the most inhumane behavior.
Yes the toll has been tremendous, the loss of national pride has been profound, and the legislative damage has been unfathomable, but we’re still here.
We The effin’ People are still here; still loving, still caring for people, still resisting, still fighting for the America we believe is possible.
And yes, it has been the worst case scenario, yes it has been the stuff of pessimist’s nightmares, and yes it has been a year of hot and humid Hell—but there has been redemption present in the middle of it.
Keep going, keep loving, keep giving a damn. It matters.
Goodness and decency and humanity have prevailed and will prevail—because we will still be here to make sure they do.
Be encouraged, America: You’re beautiful when you resist.
Happy Anniversary.
Order John’s book, ‘A Bigger Table’ here.
