Last Letter

Dear friend,

It’s been one week since the election. The hatred and vitriol coming from all sides is seemingly unprecedented, at least in my lifetime. I didn’t think it could get worse but somehow it has.

Among the democrats, post-mortem is in full swing, even while emotions are raw. There are myriad theories as to what went wrong within the democratic party, and already I hear folks complaining of post-mortem fatigue. I am not one of them. Keep it coming, I say. Losing provides a unique opportunity for introspection. The more we hash over what happened the better, in my view.

Did Harris lose because she was a woman? Because she was black and a woman? Did the Democrats fail to register the pain and panic of countless numbers of Americans beginning, I don’t know, forever ago? Could it be that you can only oppress, ridicule, and humiliate huge swaths of people for so long? Did disinformation (Russian/Trump style) win the day? Did huge numbers of Democrats and left-leaning people sit this election out (to the tune of nine or so million) because of Israel or for other reasons? To all this I say YES. Beyond that, smarter people than me will continue to study America’s (descent into? flirtation with? – only time will tell) autocracy. What we will find, one way or another, is that Trumpism – with its breathtaking mean-spiritedness and driving desire to burn shit down – is the fault of all of us.

Democrats and left-leaning folks – those on my side of the divide – will have to come to terms with the fact that they have condescended to a group of people for so long that half the country both distrusts and despises them. Years ago, just before the gulf war, I was on the committee that eventually released an anti-war statement signed by thousands of artists and intellectuals. It was an illustrious group based in NYC, and I was honored to be a part of it. Right up until I read the scathing section about science deniers. Now, I think denying science is silly. But I also think dressing down a whole group of people using language that is dripping in condescension – in print – isn’t likely to win anyone over to your side. In fact, it might be both unwise and unkind, and it might come back to bite you later. I stepped down from the group in protest.

Republicans and right-leaning folks – those on your side of the divide – will have to come to terms with the fact that though they may not consider themselves to be racist or cruel, they are, at the very least, more than willing to tolerate and reward explicit racism and abject cruelty in its ugliest form. I also believe they will have to come to terms with the fact that they were swayed by misinformation and that they have handed the keys to an autocrat in no uncertain terms. Never in my life did I imagine…

I know, friend, that you think my concerns about autocracy are overblown. I’m afraid I really don’t. One can tell a lot, I fear, by the company one keeps, and Trump’s friends are making me nervous: Victor Orbon and the Taliban were first in line to congratulate Trump on his electoral win, and Russia wasted precisely no time in taking what can only amount to a victory lap. Heather Cox Richardson, in her daily Letters to an American, informed us yesterday morning that Russian thinker Alexander Dugin said of Trump’s victory, ‘We have won. The world will be never ever like before.’ According to Richardson, “Dugan has called for an ‘anti-American revolution’ and a new Russian empire built, among other things, on ‘strategic control of the United States.’” Putin’s presidential aide Nikolay Patrushev puts a finer point on it: "To achieve success in the election, Donald Trump relied on certain forces to which he has corresponding obligations. As a responsible person, he will be obliged to fulfill them." 

Um, excuse me?

It's all in HCR’s letter. Read it if you dare.

I didn’t want my last letter to be so heavy, friend, but here we are. I’m afraid you and I cannot ignore the fact that, in addition to the very real threat of an autocratic breakthrough in the next four years, there is also that powerful strain of unmitigated cruelty and racism to contend with; cruelty that has now been emboldened within the Republican party and ushered into the White House. Rumored Trump Attorney General Mike Davis appeared on Benny Johnson’s podcast last week in what can only be described as a lesson in gleeful cruelty. “We’re going to deport a lot of people,” Davis said to a laughing Johnson. “10 million people. Anchor babies, their parents, the grandparents. We’re going to put kids in cages. It’s going to be glorious.” These are the folks who will have top positions in the Trump White House. It is hard not to despair. Except that there is no time to despair.

I’m limiting my exposure to social media for fear of toxic overload. I feel tender and very sad. But I’m also ok. Focused. Ready to organize and to help where I can. Because the truth is that you and I won’t bear the brunt of this cruelty. As usual, it’s the poor and marginalized who will. The least among us, in other words.

I know that you are hopeful and confident, friend, that your vote for Trump was the right one. I know you have America’s best interest at heart. You may not agree with anything I’ve written here today and, as usual, that’s ok. I do not think that you and those on your “side” of the political divide are any less wise or patriotic than anyone on my side. We see things differently. Neither of us has all the pieces of the puzzle, which is why we need each other so desperately.

In the end, the puzzle pieces I can offer have mostly to do with stories, many of which have come to mind these past few days. In closing, I offer up a few of them:

I’m sitting in the car with Evan, whose father is a friend of mine. He pulls out his phone because he wants to show me a video. Evan was born a girl, but since a young age every cell in his body has screamed BOY. He looks like a boy. He moves like a boy. He has only ever wanted to wear boy’s clothes. Today, Evan hands me his phone so I can watch a video of another young, trans boy performing at a slam poetry event. I watch until the end. When the video is over, he looks at me tentatively, gauging my reaction. “Evan,” I say, “that was amazing!” I mean it. Evan smiles too, relief flooding his body as he goes on to tell me about the artist and the event, glad to have discovered, in me, a tiny, safe harbor in a world that too often fears and terrorizes him…

I'm in a meeting with Michelle, a black co-worker. We are giving a presentation to three white women having to do with injustices in the criminal legal system. This is Michelle’s presentation. I’m serving as wing woman. Michelle knocks it out of the park. The women are impressed and have good questions – all of which they direct at me. They turn to me again and again, even though Michelle is the one answering. Finally, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom out of sheer frustration and in hopes of shifting the dynamic…

The show is over. Gabriela, who is all of 19 years old, sits alone in the theatre. One of the characters in the play I have co-written is based on her life story as an immigrant in America. She has come alone on opening night for fear she will cry as she watches the story of her beloved family brought to life on stage in front of a live audience. Her story is both hard and beautiful. She adores her mother and father and is adored in return. Her family risked everything in the process of coming to this country in search of a better life, suffering unspeakable horrors in the process. They came because her father couldn’t bear to see his children go hungry and did what any desperate father would do, crossing the border and committing a misdemeanor offense in the process. In the preceding months I have come to know and love Gabriela. I have witnessed her fear that any day her loving and hardworking father will be detained and deported. Now, with the politics around immigration heating up, we worry more than ever that she herself will be deported; away from everyone she loves and back to a country she does not know…

As the author of this Letters Project I have, over the months, gotten my fair share of nasty notes from people who don’t share my politics. Since the election, however, I’m getting outraged letters from left-leaning folks, too. Folks who wonder how I can engage in bridge-building efforts with people who are tacitly preparing to rain hell on marginalized communities. Fair enough. People like Evan, Michelle, and Gabriela might rightly ask why I would invite them to sit at a table with the very people who have decided they are criminal; an aberration; less than… and the truth is, I wouldn’t dare. I don’t want them anywhere near that table unless they have a burning desire to be there. No. I want them to be safe. I’ll do this work for them, inasmuch as I do it at all in the coming months. My main concern is protecting them now.   

And though I’m switching my focus from explicit bridge-building (and evidence gathering!) to harm reduction; although this is the last letter in this phase of The Letters Project, please know that I’m still reaching my hand across the political divide, and I know you are too. It’s tempting to think we political bridge-builders are facing extinction, but even when it’s hard, even when it’s distasteful, some of us (those of us protected by privilege, especially) must remain willing on some level. Must carry on.

As St. John reminds us, “Where there is no love, put love, and you will find love.”

Love.

Sara