We Can Be Heroes
When Joe and Kamala won the election, that glorious Saturday Pennsylvania finished counting, it was raining in Los Angeles–the first rain since spring, amid a summer of devastating fires. It was a light rain, slow and steady. I went outside, turned my face towards the sky, with the full knowledge that we are at the brink of the abyss, and we just took one step back. Only one step.
Well I, I wish I could swim
Like dolphin, like a dolphin can swim
Though nothing will drive them away
We can beat them, forever and ever
We can be heroes, just for one day
Four years ago, at the bitter end of election night as I tried to sleep, I had my first panic attack in over ten years. I lay on my side in bed, shaking and crying, holding my pillow, trying to breathe slower, attempting every meditation and mindfulness technique I know. I felt a visceral fear. As if my Jewish grandfather Oskar, whom I never met, whispered in my ear: Get your papers in order. Find your birth certificate. Make sure your passport is up to date. This fear is rooted in my DNA. My paternal family escaped Czechoslovakia in February 1939, days before the Nazis invaded.
I remember thinking a huge percentage of voters hate me and everyone I love, and think it is ok to discriminate against fellow Americans that aren’t like them. Not to mention their immigrant neighbors and community members. Whether that is true or not, it is what I felt as I struggled to breathe.
As the days, months, years went by, my fear tempered but never went away. Nights of restless sleep, on a blade of exhaustion. I got used to living on a bed of unpredictable and brutal news, coupled with absurd news, that in fiction would be satire. News as irrational as Cruella de Ville appointed Secretary of Dalmatian Welfare. Almost funny, except that the damage is real, quantifiable, and tangible.
At the beginning of the administration, my plan was to pick a few issues that are dear to my heart and concentrate my activism. I wanted to keep steady in the face of the deliberate barrage designed to keep us off kilter. I lost focus.
When the panic feelings come up, I turn off the news for a bit, and listen to a lot of Bowie. Sometimes it’s all just too much and I need to catch my breath and replenish so I don’t give up on the infinite possibilities of sending this world into the direction of justice and love. It reminds me of what Audre Lorde says: Revolution is not a one-time event. If it is continual, then rest, respite, rejoice is a part of reimagining and creating an inclusive world.
Individuals voted and that matters. It really matters. I heard a New Yorker on the news scream, “Goodness won! Goodness won!” A global dance party erupted. Church bells rang across Europe, the first time they rang on a day other than Christmas since the end of World War II. When I came in from the rain, I danced around my house with my cat Fritz, imagining I was shaking it in the electric slide on the street in DC. All day I talked and texted joy and relief with family and friends. That evening, my friend Lisa and I cruised down Sunset with hundreds of others in Silverlake, blaring Philadelphia Freedom and dancing in the car. People waved flags, mostly American and pride, danced, played instruments, sang. The euphoria was just as palpable as sunshine.
I have zero certainties about the future, and how we repair all the damage. But I have been holding in my heart what Howard Zinn says “the future is a series of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”
And I, I can remember
Standing by the wall,
And the guns,
guns shot above our heads
we kissed as if nothing could fall
and the shame, it fell on the other side
we can beat them forever and ever
Oh, and Bowie, always Bowie-who sang that lovers kissing by the wall in Berlin can stop bullets. Not famous or rich lovers, just an ordinary couple.
Everyday people are the heroes. Every single person who made a phone call and wrote a postcard. Those who joined Joy to the Polls. Everyone who waited in long lines. The millions who voted.
We can be heroes, just one day.
What song did you listen/dance to on that Saturday?
Remember the
relief and euphoria!
Anything missing?
Make song suggestions in the comments and I’ll add them to the Spotify playlist.
Thank you friends!