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I knew this was going to be a tough week but not for the reasons I thought. November 10th is the anniversary of my Daddy’s passing, and even though I have grieved through most of it, around the day of the event the body remembers. It started about Friday – deep sobs from out of nowhere, but on the night of the 8th I was sobbing for an entirely different reason. Like a lot of other liberals, I was in shock that this guy would ever be elected. I was in denial he was even in the running! With each ridiculous thing he said I knew there were far MORE people who would never tolerate it. I was right, Hilary got the popular vote, a few million more votes than this lunatic, but there were still many many more people who seriously voted for him. For the first two days I felt like I had been punched in the stomach and couldn’t stop crying. It felt SO GOOD to imagine a woman as our president. Did you see the Ford Truck commercials that ran that week? Tough chicks with pretty ponytails buying trucks for themselves. I was envisioning an entire new perspective for women. Especially everything that came out about this guy. But alas, what is important to me is not important to everyone, but that doesn’t mean my issues are not as important as yours. Rape Culture
is a real thing – the normalization of the sexual assault of women. Millions of people voted for the guy with the “natural” locker room talk, and many dismissed his behavior of grabbing at women not that big of a deal. So half of America threw women under the bus so they can get rid of illegal immigrants, (or insert your own make america great again reason here.) This article
helped me a lot. “You vote when you laugh at a rape joke. You vote when you explain away an actor’s — or a candidate’s — history of violence against women. You vote when you refuse to step in when you see someone’s consent being violated. You vote when you ignore statistics that say we’re all around you, watching you, hoping you’ll do something to support us.”
Once again, journaling saved me. By Saturday I felt a lot better and decided to get my hair done. I believe women need to be SEEN. I am also getting a tattoo on the back of my neck that says STILL I RISE, as a christmas present next month.
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.