Existing As An Act Of Resistance
I was so scared after this past election. I remember it so well; I woke up and checked the news, I was angry, I remember that I cried. My grandmother cried, my brother cried. My friend was scared to walk around in her neighborhood. She was scared people would start lynching again.
I’m still scared, not of him though.
I’m scared of the people that believe in him and I know I’m not the only one.
You read about these people: fascists, nazis, white supremacists. You think that they’re the minority until you read the news and see them gathering. You see them spitting on people, screaming, punching, threatening.
I’m scared of those people, and although I hate to admit it, whenever I look at their faces, or hear the foul things they yell, remember what they believe in, I’m overwhelmed. I also feel pity, anyone so closed minded must be deprived of so many beautiful relationships and experiences because of something so fucking trivial. I feel shame for living in the same country as them. I feel fear, because if one of these people were to look me in the face they’d throw death threats my way too. They would curse, they would scream, their faces would turn from human to demon the people I choose to love, the language I speak at home, the things I believe in.
Then I remember that they’re the ones who are the most afraid. The reason behind their fear is confusing and completely unfounded.
I remember they yell and curse and threaten because they are afraid of what they don’t understand. They are afraid of people like me, perhaps even people like you. They are afraid of you existing happily, loving unapologetically, enjoying life. They somehow think it threatens their existence.
I remember that when I feel afraid or overwhelmed, and I hold my head up a little higher.