I cannot believe we are here again. Last time I spent 4 long years being furious. Now I resist the pull of anger, determined to not to be poisoned. I am angry but also, I am grieving the lost glimmer of hope for social justice. The truth has been made clear: this country is controlled by the very rich. White men who only care about themselves. They won. Now they plan to close the door, batten down the hatches. The despicable silver-spoon billionaires now laugh at the rest of us.
I vow to do what I can to let love fill the space where anger wants to live. I will love, stand with and protect my daughter and other young women, people of color, the LGBTQ community, immigrants and refugees. Those of us who care must now protect and love each other more than ever.
On Wednesday morning after learning the results of the election, I wanted to pull the covers over my head and hide all day. Instead, I kept the commitment I’d made to read to students in a nearby city. When I arrived at the school, I randomly picked one of the titles selected for the volunteer readers. I chose The Oldest Student: How Mary Walker Learned to Read by Rita Lorraine Hubbard and was assigned to read to a class of 5th graders.
The teacher welcomed me and told me her class is bilingual and not all the students speak English. She would help as necessary. I introduced myself, and could see from the children’s faces that most did not understand me. I speak no Spanish. So I read slowly.
One boy, more confident and fluent than the others, chimed in where he could to translate key points. Clearly he had taken on the role of a good leader and was keen to share the joy and wonder of the book with his friends, translating what he could understand so they too would at least get the gist of the story. Every bright face followed along as I pointed at the illustrations.
The story is a true and amazing one. Mary Walker began life as a young child slave forced to pick cotton. She was freed with her family at 15, worked to help her mother support her siblings, married and raised her own children while always working. She never learned to read. Pausing after each depiction of Mary’s life I asked them: can Mary read? And they answered: NO! Mary finally did learn to read when she was 116 years old! I asked then: can Mary read? And the class gave me a resounding YES! They got it. The room thrummed with an air of understanding and awe as much at Mary Walker’s longevity as her late life accomplishment. Ah, the joy of reading!
And the tears. While reading, I sometimes felt like crying. Because of the story line, because of the election results, and because I imagined that the hardships suffered by Mary Walker are probably not unfamiliar to these children’s families. Their parents struggle to feed, clothe, protect them as parents do. Most do this at all costs. I’d wager a good percentage of that class, maybe even all, are undocumented and we know what that means. What will 2025 hold for these children?
Judging by the level of their English, I think most are recent arrivals. Perhaps some came through the horrors of the Darien gap – a terrible trek of terror and misery that so many families endured to get here. Hoping for a better life for their children. Hoping for LIFE. During the years I worked in Bosnia and Croatia during the war there, I witnessed the desperation of families forced to flee a home, their roots. Imagine leaving your language, your family, all that is familiar and comforting. No one leaves their home unless they must.
Here we are. On the brink. The American people have spoken and now have what they want. But not all of us. Not these children, not me.
Tricia. I am exactly where you are, my friend. Angry and in a state of disbelief. It unfortunately was not only the male billionaires; it was white women who did not vote for the hope of us all. That I will never understand. I do not know where we are headed, but we’ve heard ad nauseum where this horror of a man wants to take us. Watching. XO
We have a lot of migrants in Chicago—the majority arrived last year. It is difficult for me to comprehend the rhetoric of the migrants being these cold-blooded criminals but what I saw over and over was little kids and desperate parents. It seems like grown ups could have a discussion about immigration reform but it is so incomprehensible to me to give an enormous value to 5 week old fetuses but to demonize toddlers out on the street in January.
Thank you for your kindness in reading to the children.
Thanks Trish, this is a beautiful heartfelt post offering a model of how to go on that is loving and practical. My day just got a lot better after reading about your experience and your empathy and now I must Google Mary Walker. I admire the little boy who helped translate for his classmates. There are always beautiful threads of hope in the midst of what seems impending doom.
I’m right with you Tricia. I can’t spend four years being angry, it takes such a toll.
I’m mostly so sad. The rich will get richer no doubt.
The saddest part to me is the people who can’t put food on their table who voted for him thinking life will get better. We know it will get worse. How did we not get that message out clearly enough?
Even the middle class will go bankrupt for health care. Our country is owned by private equity billionaires who are terrified of not getting more of the pie.
The pendulum will swing eventually.
This has been such a challenging week. Your words resonate, praying for us all!
I love that book and I love how it found you in this moment. I felt the same…wanted to hide away and never come back out. Your writing gives me an action plan. You are not alone.
So powerful, Tricia! Thank you for sharing this. I felt the same as you the day after, wanting to retreat from the world, but no more. The resistance has already begun. Our resistance to hate and fear, our resolve to help these children and others who will be targeted in this new reign of terror, our resolve to fight the good fight of freedom and justice and democracy, that they may not be lost forever. Hugs to you and all of us.
I thank you for your words, so well crafted. It gives me hope and a place to start thinking of ways to move forward it this new world. Hopefully I can also do it from a place of love, soon.
I love you too! It’s only 4 years- We survived it before- We can do it again
I am still numb and dumb. Thank you for words.
“No one leaves their home unless they must.” How many times have I said that to Republican friends who have parroted the line that “immigration is a problem.” And it is, but how many of us would not scoop up our kids and seek safety if drug cartels or famine were threatening our families? I have moved from shock and grief to anger. We are all going to see what Trump voters have wrought, and I think many of them will be shocked by what they voted for. Too many have said to me they hate the guy, but their lives were better 4 years ago, or grocery prices were too high. One woman even said she wouldn’t let him near her daughter, but still voted for him. What??? When did character stop being a requirement for this most important job? I can so picture the bright eyes of your group, that resounding “Yes!” at the end of the story… the way the message resonated with those little kids. How I hope the trauma Trump and Steven Miller have promised for some of them does not play out.