Do Not Despair. The World Needs Your Goodness Now More Than Ever
Yesterday, I wrote about Election Night 2016, when I realized for the first time a Trump presidency was possible.
Today I’d like to share what happened after that. For days, I walked around in anguish. In photography there’s a word for the soft, blurry, out-of-focus area in a photo that sets the subject apart from everything else: bokeh.
In the days and weeks after Trump won in 2016, I was living in bokeh. I was unable to see clearly or make sense of the world around me. This feeling was made so much worse by not having a community I could turn to. Other than my husband and in-laws, I felt isolated and alone in my rural Montana town. I was a leader in a Christian mom group called MOPs (Moms of Preschoolers). But I couldn’t turn to them. They were the ones who betrayed me, who bastardized the faith I loved to give power to a man who would destroy our democracy and make a mockery of Christianity.
A few days after Trump’s 2016 win, an acquaintance invited me to a private Facebook group for progressives in my area. From there, I began to make connections with people who would end up becoming some of the most important relationships in my life.
I met Brenda, who was a teacher in my area. When my son started kindergarten, I asked to have him placed in her classroom. Brenda ended up teaching both of my kids and has become a precious and invaluable part of our lives.
I met Kristin, who owns a coffee shop where she hosts registration drives for first-time voters and salons for progressive thinkers. A few weeks ago, I spoke there about Project 2025.
I met Julia, who asked me if I wanted to go to the park with our kids. As they played in the gravel at our feet, we poured out our frustration, sadness, and fear. Julia asked if I wanted to join her in the fight against gun violence. These days, we both serve leadership roles in Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America, and we sat next to each other in June while President Biden spoke about the progress we’ve made.
I would not be the person I am today if it weren’t for the shock and pain of those early days of Trump. Working to be an antidote to his cruelty is what made me the person I am today. I used my own time, energy, and intelligence to fight against him with everything I had. I don’t thank him for that, but I’m grateful he woke me up to the rot that was hidden within white evangelical culture. Once you see something, you can’t unsee it.
I became resolved: If someone wanted to harm my LGBTQ+ loved ones, they would have to harm me too. If someone wanted to exclude an immigrant for their Thanksgiving table, I didn’t want to be there either. If someone wanted to take food from the mouths of a family in poverty, I would invite them to my feast.
I know you are tired of the fight. I know you’ve worked uncompromisingly and you’ve lost people you love to MAGA cultism. I know you want to give up. Me too.
But don’t despair. The world needs our goodness now more than ever. I’m not telling you to tune it all out or embrace toxic positivity or live in the delusion that everything is fine. Feel your feelings. Anger, rage, frustration, fear, all of your emotions are welcome here.
I didn’t understand my emotions when Trump won the first time. I had never assessed my feelings before — I was so used to drinking that conservative Christian koolaid that told me if I prayed hard enough everything would be fine. In evangelicalism, women are taught that anger is dangerous. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel my unmitigated rage before, but suddenly I couldn’t make it stop. I had a really good therapist who helped me see that when I feel threatened, I feel anger first. Anger seems like a strong, active emotion. It’s righteous. It’s momentum building. Anger gets shit done. But underneath my anger is a hidden well of sadness. Sadness feels weak and passive, but it doesn’t have to be. Sadness can also be cleansing. Like rain that extinguishes a wildfire.
I can have grace for myself for feeling anger and sadness in the order that I feel them. They’re both useful.
But despair is an impotent emotion. It tells us to stay low, shut up, give ourselves over to hopelessness. Despair asks nothing of us but surrender.
Every single day we are faced with the beauty and ugliness of the world. Sometimes one shows itself more than the other, but they are both there. And every day we have to decide how to respond. Listen to the Black women who have spent their entire lives fighting for the freedom they may never feel in their lifetimes.
“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write… that is how civilizations heal.”
—Toni Morrison
I’ve been studying Project 2025 for seven months. I know how quickly things will happen in a second Trump administration. I know the Heritage Foundation and other extremists want to imprison political enemies, deport millions of people whether they are legal or not, abolish the Department of Education, criminalize pornography, and threaten teachers, scientists, artists, activists, gay couples, trans Americans, and so many others.
The world needs you to resolve to stay in the fight.
I just finished watching Kamala Harris’ concession speech. Her voice cracked when she said it, but Harris shared an essential truth that I hope we can all cling to:
“The light of America’s promise will always burn bright as long as we never give up and as long as we keep fighting.”
—Vice President Kamala Harris
When you’re ready: Onward, Democracy Defenders.
My flag is flying upside down until tomorrow as a signal of our nation’s distress. I will fly it again that way on January 20. Peace to all.
Thank you for this.