Communal Tears

Late last night, in the throes of my despair over the apparent outcome of our presidential election, I heard Van Jones say that it was a hard night to be a parent. A hard night to put our children to bed, hard to anticipate the morning's breakfast conversation.

I woke my children up gently this morning, with the upsetting news that Donald Trump would be our next president. They responded with exclamations like, "Oh no!" and "That sucks! NO!" because we've talked candidly about what we see as the dangers of a Trump presidency.

My thirteen-year-old was the first one dressed and the first to sit down to breakfast. She'd gotten a full night's sleep, unlike me and my three-hour nap. Before eating, she did her Instagram check-in. Then she frowned, scowled, and groaned loudly. "What is it?" I asked. "What are they saying?"
They being her vast community of middle-school-aged kids whose feeds she follows with religious zeal.

"My friends are all saying that now, when we pledge allegiance to the flag, we'll be pledging allegiance to a rapist."

I stopped myself from trying to debunk what she'd said. Really, I want her to oppose this president. I want her and her friends to be critical of his ugly, hateful manner. I want her social network to bond over this, and to mobilize against this.

I told her, "No, he is not what America stands for. He does not speak for us, and you do not have to pledge allegiance to anything you don't believe in. But know that America is full of potential goodness. Not the shit he spews."

Then I left the kitchen so she wouldn't have to watch me cry. My crying makes her really uncomfortable, and the day was so very young.

When I came back, she was done with her breakfast. I started to say, "You know, we have to get over ourselves, and our own upset. What's devastating about this is-"

"All of the immigrant families who are terrified of being deported." She finished it for me. My long list of fears can wait. We have friends, neighbors and classmates who surely woke up fearing for their lives.

The streets of our progressive Hudson Valley town are desolate today. It's gloomy and cold, raining down communal tears.