Inauguration Day

inaugurationday

Not My President 

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USA DECLARES WHITE SUPREMACIST VALUES TO THE WORLD!

I wear black because I am in mourning. I am in mourning for the country I thought I lived in. The country that is most certainly dead. My privilege allowed me to believe that Hillary would win by a landslide. It was beyond my comprehension to think there were enough United States citizens who aligned with Drumpf’s values of hatred to elect him president. I was so wrong.

In the past year, Drumpf has said the following:

Mexican immigrants are rapists

He will kill the families of “terrorists”

He wants Hillary assassinated

Muslims should be banned from the USA

Women should not have reproductive rights

Marriage is for straight people only

It’s OK to perpetrate non-consensual sexual acts (i.e.: Nothin’ wrong with rape)

He is narcissistic. He is a pathological liar.

He is selfish, self-centered, inarticulate, incites hate, preaches hate.

He does not understand how to run an ethical business, let alone a country.

The subtext for the slogan, “Make America Great Again,” is “Make America Hate Again.” Or, as the electoral college just informed us, “Bring Forth America’s White Supremacist Values Again.”

Drumpf is not my president. Drumpf will never be my president. I do not acknowledge his position because I do not believe in hate.

I do not acknowledge his position but I do acknowledge my racial privilege. I acknowledge the ideological, institutional, and systemic racism upon which this country was built. I acknowledge the implicit and explicit sexist values upheld by Drumpf and his supporters. I acknowledge the extreme violence perpetrated against trans people. I acknowledge the high rates of alcoholism and suicide of Native Americans.

I have been saying for years that this country is ill. I see the symptoms of its illness manifest as depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and PTSD in the children and teenagers to whom I offer therapeutic support. The election of Drumpf to the presidency of this country is proof of this illness.

I hear some of my fellow writers and activists calling for strength and action. I wish I could say that I am in a place to offer such things, but I am not. I am afraid for my life and my liberty.

We just elected a man to the highest office in the world who admitted to molesting women and denied any wrongdoing in doing so.

I support everyone who holds enough privilege to face this embodiment of hatred head on. As of now, that’s not me.

To all the people who voted for Drumpf: You can have this country. I will take my brilliance elsewhere.

 

 

 

Apparently I’m Writing in Poetry Now

“The body, and what we do with it, has ramifications for both the person and those with whom their life is performed…the body is a surface on which the social is inscribed” –David Alderidge, “The Body, Its Politics, Posture, and Poetics”

 

My body is a surface on which the social is inscribed

On my body are written the words of you

 

When Mind cannot comprehend

control

pain

It turns away towards a screen of

pretend-it’s-ok

 

But Body moves towards

What Mind cannot hold

And inscribes relationship on skin

And bone

In blood

And breath

 

As I dance through my day

Eyes fixed on the shadows of

Plato’s cave

Body quietly begs to differ

 

The suffragettes chained themselves

to railings

Monks burning in protest

And I, refusing food,

Somatic graffiti, a message

that something

is horribly wrong

 

My brain is not “fucked up”

I am not unstable

My body is a beautiful rendering

of the human form

And though I do not speak

much

in verbal words

My body speaks

Loudly

Clearly

Something

is horribly wrong

 

When I stopped listening

to you

And started listening

to Body

I heard a political protest

A rally of thousands

crying “revolution!”

Body will starve itself out of

this political prison

Until you (and I)

start paying attention

 

There is wisdom in the body

Even if we want to call it

Pathology

The body moves towards

What the mind cannot hold

And speaks to us in the only

language it knows

Inscribes relationship on skin

And bone

In blood

And breath

 

My body is a surface on which the social is inscribed

On my body are written the words…