On Fear

I faced this blank page with its blinking cursor for several minutes before beginning to write, and even then, all I managed was this sentence. I don't know how to articulate the complex reactions I'm having to the election.

Those who know me well know that I harbor strong convictions against many of the ideals our new President-elect embodies, namely racism, misogyny, and blatant disrespect and obscenity. So that, I suppose, makes me a liberal, one of those scum-of-the-earth, whiney, losers who should shut her mouth, or if not, use it to "suck it" to quote several of my social media contacts' status updates in recent days.

I don't want to write a contentious post today. A post in which I retaliate emotionally to these people. A post in which I air my frustration. A post in which I share that I feel alienated by my community, my my state, even my church. A post in which I passionately articulate all the reasons I could not vote for Donald Trump nor to repeal rather than retain (it would take far more than one blog post anyway).

Instead, I want to write about fear. As a woman, a mother of a daughter, a teacher of students (some of whom belong to marginalized groups), and a bleeding-heart liberal who simply wants all people to be loved and respected, I feel I have much to fear after November 8, although of course not nearly as much to fear as some of the people of our country. In case anyone thinks this fear I write of is hyperbolic, please look here, here, and here for just a few illustrations. To say these instances are troubling is a major understatement. In electing a man who so unabashedly spewed hateful and aggressive rhetoric throughout his campaign,  behavior like that portrayed in the three linked articles above has been legitimized, emboldened. I'm not saying all Trump supporters are racists/misogynists/etc., but some such people exist, and that can't be denied (the KKK endorsed him, after all); a victory for Trump was also a victory for them, and they're excited about it. Again, check the links I included.

Because I was born with much unearned privilege, I have quite a bit less to fear than do many others. This fact, then, makes me feel a bit selfish in articulating my personal fears here, but I hope that in doing so, I may share a significant idea.

You see, I don't want to use this post to articulate my fear about what might happen to women, people of color, LGBTQ folk, Muslims, immigrants, people with disabilities, or any of the other groups our new President-elect has personally taken on in the last eighteen months. If you didn't vote for Mr. Trump, you're well aware of these fears and probably share them. If you did (and you're still reading), you may not think these fears are legitimate.

So now that I've spent most of this post telling you what I don't intend it to be, I'll get to what I do intend for it. One of my most prominent fears at this moment is that I will look back on this time in my life and this place in history and say, "I did nothing. I said nothing." Anyone who has studied history knows the extreme danger of indifference.

I find myself caught in this fearful tension, wherein I don't want to instigate arguments with coworkers/friends/family members/students or conflicts on social media (which are so rarely productive), but I don't want to be silent and one day see that I perpetuated hate by being a bystander. I also care a lot, like way too much, about what other people think of me, and I don't want to cause my conservative friends to think I'm an idiot, but I don't want my liberal friends to think I'm a coward. So, fear is keeping me silent in many instances, but it's also pushing back against that silence...if that makes any sense at all.

Ultimately, I feel I'm taking a coward's way out by posting this to a blog that will probably get very few views, but it's a start. I hope that any out there who are feeling a similar way might be heartened to also face the fear of others' opinions or social media backlash; let the fear of being ashamed at your silence be stronger--let it be an impetus.