Stages.

I’m not sure which stage of grief I am stuck in. Anger and depression simultaneously, maybe? Denial was definitely first. This isn’t happening. This won’t happen. There will still be a way for this not to happen. Last night, I read a series of DJT tweets about how grossly inaccurate the New York Times was when discussing his transition team’s struggle. And another one about how many foreign leaders he has met with. And still another about trying to shut down rumors about his children and security clearances and I actually thought: this whole conversation is fruitless; he’s not going to be president.

But he is.

Denial, I guess. I’m still in denial.

I’ve spent the better part of the past week in conversations with friends about the surge in hate speech in the public schools. It’s coming out like worms after a rainstorm — disgusting, slimy little words struggling to stay alive out in the open. “Build the wall” chanted on the school bus. “White power” called out in the hallway of the middle school. A little brown girl told to “go home” in the elementary school. All of it right here in my little blue community. I can only imagine what’s happening elsewhere.

It’s making me lose hope in humanity. It’s making me — the unapologetic idealist, the eternal optimist — believe that most people actually are horrible. Motivated by fear, hungry for power, ultimately only concerned about themselves. This is not to say that there aren’t good people; there are, of course. Just not as many as I thought.

 

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