The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
In the days that followed the 2024 Presidential election, I received a lot of messages from friends asking after my well-being. Are you OK? How are you holding up? Did you work today? How are you taking care of yourself?
To each I replied with almost the same response: “I planned for this. I’m fine.”
Because, truly, I was prepared, and really, I am fine. As Maya Angelou famously said, “when someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time,” so I did, but not before I grieved, fought, and crumbled over a ruling made nearly three years ago that showed that what matters most in America isn’t me or anyone else with reproductive organs capable of birthing a child.
So while it may sound flippant or apathetic or a combination of both, Kamala Harris never stood a chance. After all, if a presidential candidate doesn’t even have the constitutional right to make decisions on behalf of her own body, how can she possibly be trusted to make decisions on behalf of the entire country? America showed us who we are, and we should have believed him the first time.
Now I’m not saying I’m complacent or even remotely comfortable with the decision American voters made to once again elect a man who was found liable for sexual abuse, who was accused by at least 26 women of sexual misconduct, and who said just days before the election that he will protect women “whether the women like it or not.” I’m just saying I’m not surprised, which is exactly why I made it a point to manage both my expectations and my well-being long before our country again showed its true colors – none of which mirror those in the LGBTQIA flag.
If you’ve ever read my blogs you know that following the reversal of Roe v. Wade, I spent the better part of 18 months mad as hell. I was seething. Vitriolic even. I wrote, protested, and raged, and found solace broadcasting my feelings in an attempt to both heal my broken heart and let the masses know that I stand firmly on the side of women and their ability to govern their own bodies. I didn’t express myself to change anyone’s opinion, but I also can’t say I didn’t do it to deliberately incite arguments either. What I do know was that I was speaking up because I have a voice, goddammit, and it was necessary to preemptively rage on behalf of the women who I correctly predicted would die as the result of laws denying them lifesaving medical treatment. How this is acceptable to anyone let alone the “Christians” who advocated for these laws in the first place is beyond me. Do unto others my ass, but I digress.
What I realized after spending a year and a half in a rage-fueled haze – and just remembered after writing that last sentence – is that anger is the most exhausting of all human emotions. On the other side of those 18 months, I was met with extreme fatigue, illness, and the hard truth that I was beginning to resemble a sticky and sickly toddler who had skipped one too many naps. Unlike the president-elect, I was tantrumed out, so I decided to take a much-needed break to recalibrate my mind and body, reevaluate my priorities, and reassess my approach to the issues that matter to me most.
From January until November 2024, I tuned out the news almost entirely, tuned into plant care, dogs and fiction, stopped discussing politics, and leaned into my beloved soul music and the bond I share with my husband and our son. What’s more, even though I never stopped writing, I did stop publishing my blog because until now being quiet felt more cathartic than being loud. As a result, I transitioned from a rebellion steeped in words and animosity to one rooted in endearing actions and empowerment; one that cannot be dissuaded by Supreme Court (In)Justices or the antics of a narcissistic child who has been overwhelmingly (but not shockingly) reelected to run our country.
Although what follows will neither make the news nor your newsfeeds – and will likely never be televised – the revolution that best supports me and the women with whom I interact looks a lot like this…
Never missing an opportunity to tell the most significant women in your life how beautiful, funny, engaging, smart, and wonderful they are.
Actively seeking representation on behalf of those who may not be at the table, and politely pursuing viewpoints from those who are at the table and may be too intimidated to share.
Offering a kind word and a smile to any woman who looks even remotely sad in a public restroom.
Showing young women in the workplace how to do more and be more than anyone would have expected.
Proactively helping a mom who is wrangling small children and packing up all of their belongings (SO many belongings).
Advocating for the advancement of exemplary female colleagues.
Hiring women and women of color.
Listening to the lived experiences of women and ignoring the instinct to interrupt with your own anecdotes.
Speaking up for what’s right among family, friends, and colleagues even if what’s right is not the consensus.
Calling out racists. Those mother fuckers are the worst. Oh, and just because someone voted for Trump doesn’t automatically make someone a racist, but it does if that person also says some racist shit.
Engaging in meaningful and difficult conversations with your child(ren) about allyship and the strength of their voice(s). Yes, I realize this one comes directly after a reference to “mother fuckers,” but sometimes crass language is what’s most fitting and kids need to know that, too.
Acknowledging your white privilege and recognizing that the power of that privilege is far more threatening than the term itself.
Apologizing when you’ve made a mistake, an assumption, or were perhaps a bit surly – and teaching your child(ren) to do the same.
Empowering then teaching women colleagues (and especially young colleagues) to ask for what they need and deserve based on the caliber of their work.
Contracting with women and minority-owned businesses.
Helping a woman you’ve never met carry her bags (SO many bags).
Offering to pick up a colleague’s kid from school so that the kid’s mom can make it to a meeting.
Showing up for the women in your life when they need you most.
Always complimenting women regardless of whether or not you know them (SO many women and SO many things to compliment).
Reassuring any woman working in customer services who repeatedly apologizes for making a small mistake that everything is OK and that you understand she’s a woman who has a lot of shit going on. NOTE: I actually do this one a lot, and the relief and camaraderie that instantly appears on the person’s face is why this kind of reassurance never gets old.