I have a button that I sometimes wear pinned to my lapel or to my name badge when I go to conventions. It’s purple – my favorite color – with silver lettering, and it reads “Silence is the voice of complicity.”
That phrase has been going through my head since November, growing louder and louder. This week it’s been screaming at me, condemning me, because I have been publically silent regarding my opinion of the new president of the Untied States (and it does feel like whatever knot holding our country together has finally come untied).
I don’t want to be complicit in what’s happening right now, but the thought of breaking my silence, of broadcasting my opinion beyond the circle of my closest friends makes me feel physically ill. My fingers are shaking as I type this, I’m breaking out in a cold sweat, my heart is pounding in my chest, but I can’t be silent anymore.
I’ve been successfully distracting myself since November with travel and music and writing and work, but distraction isn’t possible, not when my Facebook feed is full of political posts, not when every other news item on the radio has to do with our country’s political climate, not when speculative fiction magazines are calling for submissions imagining the post-election world. I’ve tried channeling my fear into writing fiction, but that’s only blocked my creative energy.
Last Saturday, I found myself sitting alone in my car sobbing. I don’t cry often, but this was full-on, red-faced, snot-nosed wailing. All the fear and hopelessness and anger finally caught up with me, and I couldn’t keep them at bay any longer.
But the biggest emotion I felt was a disappointment in myself for not protesting, for not speaking out, for not writing this blog post the day after the election.
I’ve always thought politics and religion were parts of our private lives to be spoken of only with close friends and family, but clearly, my views have changed on religion. I’ve written about my personal lack of belief in the past. Now, it’s time to change my view on politics. So here goes:
I am a registered Democrat. I caucused for Bernie Sanders in the primaries. I voted for Hillary Clinton in November. Neither of them was my ideal candidate, but no candidate is ever perfect. I voted for the person I thought would do the least amount of harm to the world at large. I spent the day after the election weeping out of fear and disappointment.
Last weekend, I dog sat for a family who flew to Washington, D.C. to participate in the Women’s March on Washington, and I was proud to support them in that effort, but I was also disappointed in myself. I grew up admiring the suffragettes and the people who marched with Martin Luther King, Jr. during the Civil Rights Movement. Why wasn’t I in D.C. marching with everyone else?
Because I’m terrified.
I think of going to a protest or a march or even writing on this blog, and I run through all the ways in which things might go terribly wrong: arrest, injury, threats of bodily harm…No matter how far-fetched or unlikely, the scenarios run through my head and I can’t block them out. I don’t know how long it will take for me to muster the courage to join a march or a protest, but I can start by breaking my silence.
I’m scared of the number of executive orders the president has signed in the first week of office. I’m scared of the executive branch of our government trying to turn the public against the free press and scientific fact. I’m scared of sitting by and letting innocent people get hurt, arrested, and killed for no other reason than fear. But above all, I’m scared of stepping outside the safe parameters of my everyday life.
But even though I’m scared, I can’t be silent any longer. I can’t let myself sink under the weight of despondency. I can’t let fear rule my life. So, please leave a comment on this post, even if your opinion is in opposition to my own. Don’t just tell me I’m wrong, or I’m stupid, or I’m a liberal crybaby. Tell me how you’re feeling and why. I would rather start conversations than build up the walls of my echo chamber.
Thank you for reading.
Reading Leaves of Grass yesterday, came across this gem:
TO A PRESIDENT – Walt Whitman
All you are doing and saying is to America dangled mirages,
You have not learn’d of Nature – of the politics of Nature you
have not learn’d the great amplitude, rectitude, impartiality,
You have not seen that only such as they are for these States,
And that what is less than they must sooner or later lift off from
these States.
Emily, it’s James. This is such an important journey you’re making, and it’s a hard one. You supported me & my family with our Inauguration travels and we want to support you any way that is helpful as you dip your toe in the waters. You can do this. You’re strong and you have talents to share. What I can give you is reassurance, maybe: I’ve been to a lot of protests over the years, and while there’s never any sure-fire promises in anything, I can tell you my experience: overwhelmingly, the vibe isn’t violent like it is portrayed in the movies. The vibe is outraged, of course, but communal and supportive among participants, too. In a way, it’s like going to a knitting circle: people ask one another where they’re from and compliment one another’s signs, and laugh coming up with creative chants. They ARE really creative spaces:!I just came back from two Portland protests today and at the first one, no one had started anything in the first few minutes so I stepped up on a step and led the crowd through a singalong of Emma Lazarus’ “The New Colossus” put to music. If you can do bluegrass, you can totally rock a protest. Like bluegrass playing, you can start with just a bit at a time and see what feels comfortable, too. Call Tracy and me sometime — there’s stuff afoot and we’d be glad to be shepherds or a friendly welcome presence whenever you feel ready to try your hand. You can do this. And you’re right: it’s important to try.
Thank you, James.
Hi Emily,
Based on what I know from the cruise, I think I have a glimmer of why this was very hard for you. Just know that you’re not alone. If anything, I think you’re in the majority. It’s just dispersed at the moment.
For myself, I’m still struggling on how to actually have a conversation. I’m a physicists, so I think logically, and it’s like I’m grading papers where most of the people wrote 1+1=green. I understood why lots of people didn’t like Hillary, but I have never heard a single reason to vote _for_ Trump that passed the smell test.
For now, form what associations you can. Look for the little successes. Work local and build up. Affirm to yourself and others that _you_ are part of what makes the world a better place.
Cheers,
Jack
I’m in your camp. In my case there’s little chance I’ll do anything – not from fear so much as disgust. I guess I’ve given up on the ideal of a democratic society.
But you have not given up, and it’s your strength and power and dedication to something better that my tired generation must now rely on. Press on.