There are many political goings-on that have moved me to tears over the past eight years:
- My family called from Canada the night before I voted. They left messages on my voice mail saying, "We are just calling to remind you to vote for Gore." But, President George W. Bush's election in 2000 was not one of the events that caused me tears; quite the contrary, I was infuriated. But at that point, I was still too young and far too self consumed too think much of his election other than a halfhearted, "Well, it's the end of the world" or "it's certain we'll go to war with him in the White House."
- There were tears of unhinged fear upon seeing the World Trade Center's twin towers fall along with so many people. There was a voice mail from a friend in Brooklyn with whom I had spent a long evening under the towers, just three days earlier. He said, "Chelsia. Oh mah gawd. I'm fine, but I am standing on Carol Street and there are pencils falling from the sky." And the line went dead.
March 20th, 2003. 12 a.m. PST. In bed, beside my girlfriend. We held each other, crying, talking, fearful that our president was keeping his promise and dropping bombs on villages in Afghanistan. We asked each other, "Do you really think he'll do it?" We looked at the walls of her basement and imagined Children asleep in houses made of clay, thousands of miles away. We fell asleep with our eyes wet and when we woke the next morning we protested with 30-thousand others in the streets of Portland.
- Then, the "mis-election" of President George W. Bush defeated me in 2004 and put me to bed early. My tears, that day, were for my the failure of my state (Oregon) to support equal rights for GLBT families when they decidedly passed of a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage. I had worked so hard that year for equal rights for my family of origin and for my relationship and those of my chosen family and community. And o top it all of, my country reelected a man I was sure would bring down not only our country, but many others.
April 24th, 2004. Tears again. When I walked onto the National Mall and saw 1.5 million other people present in defense of women's rights to privacy and choice. I cried at the magnitude of people who showed up in D.C. at what was called the largest march on Washington for women's rights, ever. And that I was so privileged to attend with the gracious support from the students and faculty from my community college to get me there. It was there that I heard Senator Hillary Clinton speak. It was that march that, I believe, caused Dick Cheney to withdraw his request for the medical records of women in the US who had had abortions. It was a small victory, but an important one.
Today and last night, off and on, I've released a few tears, mostly of joy, for the achievements of the incoming administration and the men and women of our country who fought for so long prior to this moment; for those who died, who wrote and sang and marched in the streets so that our country could elect a President of color. And on this day, (I hate to use such a cliche' campaign slogan but...) I am filled with such hope that gains will be made for equality in all of the spectrum of community in this country; be it that of race, nationality, religion, socio-economic status, political affiliation, sexual orientation, gender, ability, age, and any other identity included. I feel as if opportunity has broadened for many and that a new spirit may prevail, if we allow it so. I believe that spirit is that of Love.
I can't help but think of my sisters on a day like this. One 13 and the other 11. Although this may be somewhat only interesting to them, I hope they someday understand the importance of this day in the history of this nation. I hope that our world and that the people of this nation demonstrate the recognition, accountability, and responsibility President Barack Obama asked us to dutifully undertake for the sake of future generations.
When I was in Jr. High School, there was a blip in time where I became aware of international politics. My mothers recorded the news that broadcast the firing of artillery through night vision. Little green dots flew through the air in all directions and explosions erupted on the horizon as the newscasters detailed what was happening to a entranced audience. Although we didn't know the ins and outs of Desert Storm, we knew war was wrong and therefore, protested by walking out of school and having a sit-in on the grassy field at Rowe Jr. High School. We sat for a while and then the administrators pulled us back in. Unfortunately, I didn't become aware of politics again, or the impact of national politics, until long after I left high school.
I was awakened by the Seattle WTO protests and Y2K. It was then that I realized how much each of us is woven into the power of the larger systems this country and this world. It was then that I realized I couldn't afford to not pay attention.
But I haven't been paying much attention and I haven't been working for the last three years. I've been disheartened, angry, self-involved, unable to look, and I simply turned the channel. I can afford to do work and maybe I should have been doing work all along. But I believe that change occurs no matter how small of a change you make or no matter how few hear your voice.
Today President Obama said, "...your people will judge you on what you can build, and not what you destroy." And although he directed this remark to the leaders of countries in conflict, I believe it is a message we should all hear. No matter how small you think your impact is, lets build instead of destroy, love instead of hate, have hope instead of fear, and go forward in the spirit of building a better world and community that will sustain for many generations to come.
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