On Empathy and Optimism
Election Musings, of Course…
Like most, I woke up on November 6th at 5 am to check the polls. They declared victory for a man who has dominated political discourse for as long as I have known political discourse. My generation was born to this. We understand politics not as a question of facts, reason, or logic debated by decent people of differing views, but as a lived experience of anger and fear, steeped so deeply into our stomachs it feels as though it exists as a part of our souls.
And yet, our country is made up largely of decent people. People in fear. People in anger. People so fearful and angry, it seems their decency is lost, and I struggle to make sense of how we can move forward with hope let alone move forward at all. Dressed in my own fury and anxiety, I come to a few conclusions.
Firstly, I consider empathy. Life, writing, listening, voting, and sometimes just breathing are lessons in empathy. As young women in this election, many of us asked for empathy. Many of us did not ask for agreement, rather we begged our nation to understand choice as a right and healthcare as a necessity, regardless of personal belief. Empathy. We cannot ask for this grace and fail to offer it in return. Fear is polarizing, polarization breeds fear, and on November 5th these forces took power. What yesterday was a nation divided is today a nation of citizens who can barely speak to one another, and persistence in the steadfast commitment to cutting one another off cannot continue. To engage with those who disagree with us is not an option, it is a responsibility. To be forced to engage with those who disregard any human’s right to existence and equality is unfair and unjust. Today, we see the results of our failure to face injustice.
To continue on the trajectory that has been codified by cancel culture in the name of justice is to commit a crime against our people and ourselves ultimately in the name of comfort and safety. I speak here from a place of privilege. I cannot understand the differing consequences potentially faced by each individual of a different race, class, religion, or identity than myself of engaging with someone who may fundamentally question one’s right to embody that identity. But again, I can return to empathy-- I extend it to you, I ask you to extend it to me. To fight in this country, one side against the other, will mean a loss for our planet, our rights, and our democracy. We saw it in this election, we will see it again if we continue to pit one ideology in fundamental and irreparable opposition to the other. The time to draw lines and stand behind them has come and gone, I believe we no longer hold the luxury of safety and comfort in the conversations we have and the compromises we must make. To change a mind, to educate, to be educated, to mold respect for human life and rebuild American decency, we must first build trust and relationships. In an election dictated by emotion and aggression, logic did not prevail. Rather it is only an emotional and actively pacifist reaction that can be considered in response. Therefore, empathy is now a radical act. It will require courage. It will require discomfort, suffering, anger and sadness from each of us. It will also require respect, dignity, an acute ability to listen, and profound love. It is an absolute necessity.
As the polls closed on the eve of November 5th, I sat in Washington Square Park and watched a black man sing the Star Spangled Banner. He was dressed in green camo, his voice dripped with honey and power, he walked away holding hands with a man in ripped jeans and a cropped tank top. I know nothing else of his life. I consider hope.
In my gut, I feel hopeless. My planet is dying and my dreams with it. I study climate change, I know the implications of a Trump presidency for our planet, my home, and the places I hold most dear. I study politics, I try to wrap my head around the implications of a Trump presidency for our democratic processes. I am a woman, I understand the implications of a Trump presidency for myself, my sister, my friends. I practice empathy, the implications of a Trump presidency for the people of this country and this planet feel too heavy a burden to bear. I do not want to get out of bed. And yet I do.
There is fire in anger. It burns red and hot through my lungs, it is uncomfortable, it demands attention, it requires an outlet. There is fire in optimism too. Hope and optimism are not ephemeral. They exist in action, in intention, with ferocity. To descend to hopelessness is not a choice we have the luxury of making. Speaking on the campaigns run and the election results, a peer this morning remarked “This is not respectable politics, this is a knife fight in the gutter.” When our parties have failed us, when our rights are questioned, when our democracy appears to be on the brink of denigration beyond repair, it is the people of this country that must take risks. Salvation lies not in the democratic party, nor in our legal systems nor in the checks and balances designed to mitigate extremist power, these things become irrelevant in the face of players who disregard the sanctity of our rules and our nation. It lies instead in our continued commitment to get out of bed. Our recognition of fellow humanity. Our persistence in pursuing radical action not for what is written, but for what is right. Salvation relies on fire, pressure, heat, hope, optimism. Hope must be ferocious.
