How do you mourn the suicide of your country? I’ve lost dear friends this year, and I know how to mourn them. But I don’t know how to grieve the loss of the country I love. The America I know is being replaced by thugs and bigots. Strong words, but how else do you describe a domestic policy chief aligned with white nationalists or an attorney general nominee who endorsed banning Muslim immigrants?
I’ve read the calls to resist and fight, and I will in good time. But first, I mourn. At my age, I will never see a progressive national government, and it is unlikely that my children will ever see a progressive Supreme Court.
As Barbara Schelbert, wrote in a poem to the editor in the Los Angeles Times:
I want to mourn the loss of
decency and integrity
compassion and empathy
intellect and class.
[Read it all.]
I’m with her.
But mixed with profound sadness is all that I am thankful for: a great marriage and family. Great kids, world-class grandchildren. As I recover from mourning, I’ll be all the more thankful that I am a U.S. citizen, and that if I want to stand with my countrymen and call out the vice president elect, I don’t have to apologize. If I want to march on Washington, I don’t have to ask Jeff Session’s permission. If I want to stand alongside the Dreamers, I can try to shield their vulnerability.
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