I have no plan; it seems, though, that this is the time to join with others who are planning to resist and resist and resist. I will sign petitions and send emails. I will gather to stand for our rights not to be trampled under the feet of the arrogant. I will be part of wells of justice that counter walls of hatred. I will not be undermined by wallets stacked with bills of perversion. I will share what comes from my place of strength. These are my intentions.
In the middle of the night I awaken with my jaws clenched. I am trying to understand, but I ache and cry tears of fear and disgust.
These are my pronouncements.
I am proud to be a woman who cares about other women and their ability to support themselves, and take care of themselves and their children.
I am proud to be Jewish, raised on a foundation of working to make the world better and safer for Jews and all oppressed people.
I am proud to have come from New York City, where we respect each other and understand that we have bonds that join us and create interdependence even if they are forged in the steamy subways of summer.
I am proud to be part of the tide that has turned Northern Virginia from red to blue—still—and where the immigrant population has made this a restaurant haven where we appreciate new flavors and ways of interpreting the world.
I am proud to teach in a school were students generally see differences, not as dividing lines between people but as something to respect and be curious about.
Call me a bleeding-heart liberal. Call me an out-of-touch coaster.
I feel for people with no plans or prospects.
I feel for people who want the past to be the present.
I feel for people who agonize over the choices women make for their bodies.
I feel for people who are discomforted by same-sex love and gender fluidity.
I feel for people who rage over their lost foothold on the societal totem pole.
It’s hard to care when in return your ideals get trammeled.
Right now I have no desire to understand or excuse people who live lives distorted by anger, shame, demands, or bitterness and won’t accept another person’s reality. It should not be you or me, there should be an overlapping space of compassion where support is understood to be better than destruction.
Perhaps I cannot accept a worldview in which people are only concerned about themselves.
I don’t want to comfort myself by saying this seems to be a battle in the eternal war between the sharers and the shearers (together with those who serve the shearers even when they themselves are being sheared).
This is my call and cry to myself, to those who sing in my choir, and to those who have not heeded our songs.
No to hindering and bullying. No to oppression and suppression.
This is my constructive call to action to honor each person’s desire for fulfillment and purpose. This is my plan.