I shan’t sing you a lullaby, you who cast your vote for hatred, either directly or indirectly. I shan’t get over it. And why should I? The fact that you would expect me to means that your privilege has obscured your vision. You tell me to stop whinging, to stop making you feel bad for the choice you had to make. You want me to comfort you, apologize to you for offending your sensibilities, tell you you’re still a good person. When I answer your question how can a nation be racist when it’s twice voted in a black president? with because you voted in a KKK-endorsed president who wants to ban all Muslims, you shut me out completely.
I will not apologize for rebuking your attempt at morally license yourself and your nation. You’re an erudite and a Christian, therefore you’re a good person. And how dare me for implying otherwise simply because you decided racism, classism and misogyny seem like small prices to pay for your deluded notion of liberty and justice. How dare I call you a hater when, after all you voted pro-life. Really? Tell me how banning and eradicating Muslims is pro-life. Tell me how threatening the agency of women over their own bodies is pro-life. Tell me how persecuting LGBTQ people is pro-life. Tell me how the white supremacist undertones of your ideology is pro-life. Tell me how refusal to acknowledge your privilege as white, straight, upper class is pro-life. And, tell me, how denial of health care as a basic and universal human right is pro-life.
I shared your sorrows with you. I extended comfort in your times of grief. I stayed, despite some of the things you said which caused me to shudder, because I wanted to understand. Because I wanted your acceptance. Because I wanted you to see me as human, as worthy. I though that, maybe, just maybe, it might soften your heart. I believed you, for a time, when you said you love me. It gave me hope, because, love breeds tolerance. And when you love someone, you do not make choices rooted in their oppression and denial of their humanity and right to exist. November 8th, 2016 came and you made that choice. I want to ask, did you stop and consider the impact of your choice? However, I believe I know the answer.
I shan’t sign you a lullaby. I shan’t don a white hood and embark on that victory march with you. You threw me and so many others under the bus. Do you know how much that hurts? I meant it when I said I loved you. I valued you and treasured your friendship. I respected you. And now, now, I cannot. I cannot respect your blatant disregard of the wellbeing of others. I cannot respect the fact that you believe the non-white, non-straight, and women ought to pay for your liberty and distorted vision of justice with their own liberty and right to exist. I will never accept that I must spread my legs in submission to pay for your liberty, privilege, entitlement. When you set that price you told those parts of me that blame myself for the things that hurt me you agree. That makes you the rapist and child molester. It makes you the person who told the child me I seduced the molester to do those ugly violating things he did to me. It makes you the men who treated my vagina like a pleasure stop for their restless penises. It tells me you believe that a woman’s body is currency. It tells me that you believe white is supreme. It tells me that, as a person of colour, I have no right to my humanity.
I have struggled since November 9th with my conscience. I have berated myself for what I called my weakness – my inability to accept you and embrace a friendship with you in light of this very clear choice you’ve made. Because I have always believed that love enough. Sadly, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that it’s not enough. If this crossroads is the severest test of love, then I have to abstain. I cannot embrace this connection with you. It hurts me too much. That’s not to say I don’t love you. Because, honestly, I likely still do. It’s not a beacon of light, this love, it’s more like that cold and lonely Hallelujah.
And for that I weep.