Loosed Hatred

Yesterday was my daughter's death date. Yesterday as I tried to remain focused on my daughter. Honor her memory with my actions and words to others. Reflect in peace and gratitude for the grief that visits me to remind me of my brief role as a mother. Reflect on the complexity of love that both heals and hurts, I found an intrusion of unwelcome thoughts of fear.

I've been reeling from the election. We elected a narcissistic and racist individual. Someone who is a failed businessman, an accused child rapist, a person who brags about sexual assault, who openly praises P.utin and his leadership, who refuses to pay people for their work, who would like to abolish free speech, and who Politifact found tells the truth less than 10% of the time.

Several times throughout the day--as I tried to remain focused on her--my thoughts were rudely and violently yanked to a two second gif of our president-elect mocking a disabled person. I've been told that he didn't mean it. I saw it. I watched him mock a disabled person. It wasn't an edited clip; he sure as f$@k meant it.

I worried about how I would protect her from people like him. How would I make sure she knew she was loved? How would I shield her from hurtful bullying and cruel words and worse--cruel actions?

That f$cker has not one compassionate, caring bone in his body, and he has emboldened the cruel words and actions of many around the country. The very leader of the free world manipulates and mocks, and I feel helpless to protect children like my daughter from that model.

My teacher-friends and students in my area and around the country are witnesses to the loosed hatred and bullying. "Pretty soon you guys will all be slaves again," was a black student's story to a group. "Now I can grab you or any other chick by the pussy," was a tweet from one of my 20-something female college students. "Faggot" painted on a car of an acquaintance. "She can't talk because she's a filthy Muslim," from a fifth grader. "Our president is going to send your parents back to Mexico," from a third-grader at the lunch table. These are real, and he is silent. And no one is really expecting any words of condemnation from a bully.

I can't breathe.