The Day After
Before I even open my eyes, I wake up and remember that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. And then it hits me. My eyes start swelling with tears.
The man who would build a wall, ban Muslims, had boasted of molesting women, mocked a disabled reporter, called Mexicans rapists, challenged the constitutional legitimacy of a black man elected president, thinks global warming is a hoax, whose second in command believes that gay people need therapy to switch their orientation, that man has been elected to the most powerful job in the world.
Just as I was mustering enough energy to throw off my covers, my cell phone dings. It’s a text from my youngest daughter, Aster, who is teaching fourth graders in Detroit. “What do I tell my kids?” her text pleads.
I text back, telling her to reassure her kids that they will be safe, that you will not let anyone hurt them. That there are checks and balances in this country. But I don’t quite believe it. Later she will tell me that when she got to her classroom in southwest Detroit, some of her students were already crying. Two kids asked if they will be sent back to Mexico, since their parents are undocumented. Third graders are scared that they will be forced into slavery. The Southern Poverty Law Center has reported that this has been going in classrooms around the country.
My older daughter, Abby, is looking for an internship with an NGO or nonprofit in New York City. She tells me that she was reviewing her notes for an interview with the Ms. Foundation when she got a phone call from the director, who was sobbing. She said she was sorry, but that staff members are so shaken that they will have to reschedule the interview. (The Ms. Foundation does a lot of work with immigrant rights and women victimized by sexual assault.)
Where I work, in the offices of of a major health care system, people are signing up for health insurance in droves, fearful they may not have the same opportunity in three months. I can envision our ERs once again filled with people who lack health insurance.
A friend sent me an email about participating in a national day of prayer and reconciliation. But I am not ready to reconcile. Maybe that day will come, but not yet. People tell me that he spoke in hyperbole on the campaign trail to win, to get the highest ratings. They tell me that it will not be so bad. But I do not believe them. For now, I will do everything I can to help protect those who stand to be the hurt the most by this election. That is the least I can do.