No, Actually it’s Not Time to Stand Together Behind Donald Trump


Since Wednesday morning, when most of the world woke up to the shocking news that Donald Trump had secured the highest office in the nation, I’ve been reading and hearing cute little phrases like “It’s time to lay aside our differences,” “No matter if your candidate won or lost, we must respect the office and the president,” “Trust the system our forefathers laid out; it’s going to be fine,” “It’s time to unite behind our new president.”

First of all, let’s talk about who thinks uniting behind our new president is the way to have peace in our country. It’s we white people, and mostly white men. People of privilege are not in imminent danger, and it’s easy for us to sit in safety and “trust our system,” a system that has proven to target minorities again and again. But not since the Civil Rights movement has it been so blatant as this.

In the aftermath of the election, there have been countless stories of Trump supporters vandalizing, harassing, and harming minorities and women. Undoubtedly this would have happened regardless of who won the election, and perhaps the incidents would have been worse and even more frequent had Hillary won the electoral vote. But the true horror here isn’t the heartless people committing these crimes against already-marginalized people. The true horror lies in the condoning, the encouragement even, that comes from the top. Mr. Trump’s platform was built upon hate and fear; his campaign echoed his beliefs, and now we are reaping the consequences of a man of power encouraging violence against minorities.

So I just have one thing to say in response to the flippant requests I’m hearing from people of privilege that Americans come together in support of our new president.


Actually, it’s NOT time to stand together behind Mr. Trump. Luckily, we live in a democracy, not a dictatorship. Just because a man has power does not mean we are required to unite in support of the cruelty and violence he has incited against millions of people.

Here’s who I will be standing behind: people of color, the hispanic community, Muslim Americans, immigrants (both documented and undocumented), refugees, and anyone LGBTQ etc, women, and anyone else who has been marginalized. I will band together with the minorities in this country, the people who are literally scared for their lives right now. I will be donning the safety pin and keeping my eyes and ears open for the chance to defend and protect those who are being targeted, to come to their rescue, to shield them from harm.

It’s not time to stand behind Mr. Trump until he absolutely and unequivocally disavows the violence that has erupted since his win. Until he stops calling protests against him and his hatefulness “very unfair” and stands in front of America and tells his violent supporters that he in no way condones their behavior, that it is criminal and they will be caught and held accountable by the full extent of the law, I refuse to support him.

Mr. Trump, you should know something. If you threaten to abuse your power, the way you have, you should expect the fallout that has happened since your presidency was announced. You have your supporters, but you will never win. Because until you recant almost everything you said during your hateful campaign, Mr. Trump, peaceful and loving American people will be uniting in support of those who are afraid. It’s not unfair at all, and it’s not a rigged system. It’s democracy, and it’s time to embrace it.

The other stuff that's going on

FYI: This post is like a week and a half old, so some of this stuff is outdated, but I’m sure I’ll get around to a new update sometime. (Yes, it takes me a week and half to write a single blog post. Other than 30 second bursts on the toilet, I don’t get a lot of alone time.)

Oh, hi! It’s me, the woman who has two small children and almost forgot there are other things that constitute life besides whining and crying and poop.

Like medical bills and the knot in my stomach that arrises when I think about having to pay to get my uterus scraped out so I’d stop bleeding. LIKE IT WAS A RELAXING PEDICURE. We owe over $2,500 in medical expenses since having Violet. (Thank GOD we only stayed one night in the hospital!) A lot of different kinds of people have told me they read this blog. Some people shock me by telling me they read this blog. They consistently come back even though I say bad words and talk about my vagina AS IF IT WERE A HOLY BODY PART. So I know I’ll get some people rolling their eyes WAY up into the back of their heads when I get on this particular soap box, but they probably don’t have Vanderbilt Medical Financial Services calling me every week, so they can just roll their eyes back into the forward position so they can see to click the little “x” to close this tab. Resume soapbox. It just really IRKS me that we in America are the ONLY western country not to have universal healthcare. I support the Affordable Care Act (otherwise known as Obamacare) (otherwise known as Satancare) because it’s a step in the right direction, but it is NOT the answer. France and Italy have the highest health ratings according to the World Health Organization, and they have universal healthcare (otherwise known as your taxes pay for it) (otherwise known as SATAN RULES HERE!). So if we see that it can mean excellent health, why are we so afraid of this? Why don’t we want our taxes TO TAKE CARE OF OUR PEOPLE? Is it that we think if the government leaders control it, it’ll be shit? I mean I get you; no one wants to walk into a hospital and have it feel like the DMV. But just because there are some government organizations that blow ass, doesn’t mean they all have to. It doesn’t even mean they all DO. We accept some socialized programs: police force, fire departments, public education, but not others, like everyone in our country being able to afford to take care of themselves. If everyone suddenly had to pay for their kids to go to school there would be cries of outrage from middle to low income households who can’t afford to pay tuition. Upper class people who don’t want their children mixing with the riff-raff can and do send their kids to private schools where they learn how to be snobs. (Just kidding; I went to private school.) (Oh, wait, everyone there was a snob.) So what’s the problem with doing this same thing with our healthcare? We could have universal healthcare, covered by our (yes, somewhat raised) taxes. We could do away with insurance companies except in the case of the rich people who don’t want to share their respirators with poor people’s respirators. If you really wanted to you could still pay for insurance and be seen at ritsy hospitals who put mints on their pillows and turn poor bleeding children away.

Like the fact that our 1000 square foot house is too small for a stomping toddler AND a crawling baby, which is what we are about to have. We decided to remodel, but then we found out that we can’t get a loan because we cosigned a loan with my brother, who then didn’t make his car payments on time. THANK YOU, DOING-THE-RIGHT-THING-GODS. We’d do it ourselves but we don’t know what we’re doing, and it would be a tad counterproductive if we ended up knocking the whole house down instead of just one wall or flooding our house by taking the plumbing out the wrong way. So we’re stuck in a house limbo, not sure what we’re going to do and hoping Violet stays immobile until we can figure it out, which isn’t looking likely since she rolled over and over and over the other day like she was a pig on a spit, then looked up at me like, YAY! DID YOU SEE THAT!? (Yeah, I saw it, kid. You’re living in the Ergo from now on.)

Like summer drama camps. I have been camped out at this desk in the fellowship hall of a Methodist Church for the last three weeks, for five hours a day. Today is actually the last day, and if you can hear the joyous celebration, that just proves how loud it sounds coming from my head. Don’t get me wrong; I believe in what I’m doing. STC is a great company and they’re offering kids the chance to belong to this incredible community and discover the wonder that is theatre, but I’m just tired. One thing I’ve learned is how glad I am to be a stay-at-home-mom. There are days when I truly miss my career and living in an adult world, but these last three weeks have absolutely affirmed my decision to stay home while my kids are small. I miss my house being clean and dinner not being a hassle. I miss Noah (Violet comes with me to camp, thank God). I miss the peace of having an entire day to do everything I need to do to make my home and my family happy. I think all this has just made me acutely aware of how important my job as a mom actually is. No, I don’t get paid, and in our society that is the measure of how well you’re doing. No matter how great a mom I am today, I won’t get a raise or a bonus or even a pat on the back. And I do succumb to feelings of inadequacy all the time. (Especially when people ask me what I do, and I tell them I’m a stay-at-home-mom. Then their eyes glaze over and I can see them thinking, “Well, I don’t really need to know the plot of General Hospital, so I guess we have nothing further to talk about.”) But if there is one thing of which I’m certain, it’s that NOTHING is more important than raising these two people. Who knows what they could do and who they could be if they know they have the support of me, their mother! It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done, and as passionate as I am about the theatre, I’m looking forward to focusing on Mommyhood full-time again. At least for now.

Like marriage. I can hardly remember what a date feels like, and while one of our favorite things is going to the movies, we haven’t been to one since December. And (those who are Holy, if you’re even still reading this, turn away now lest thine eyes retain sinfulness) I sure do miss having sex. It’s not like it would be easy to resume intimacy even if I HADN’T been bleeding for three straight months, but as it is, I wonder if I’ll ever get my mojo back. And when we two stumble into bed at the end of our long days and find ourselves in the horizontal position, we barely have energy to roll towards one another to kiss and whisper goodnight before one or both of us are already snoring. On top of that, we got this king-sized bed before we had Violet, reasoning that with two kids and two grownups in bed, we would need more space. But now Noah insists we take him back into his own room to rock him and give him a cup of milk when he wakes up at night and refuses to just LIE STILL between us, so the king-sized bed is somewhat useless and it keeps us from touching each other all night long. In fact, when Violet wakes me up, I find I’m about a mile away from Lance, who’s hugging the edge of this massive mattress probably out of habit. It seems we go all day without seeing one another because I’m out doing a dozen things (or I’m at drama camp) and he’s working, and then it’s a mad rush to get dinner ready and on the table by 7, a chaotic mess of eating and bouncing a baby and trying to convince a whining Noah to stay at the table a bit longer and usually one or both kids has a poop blowout before the end of dinner and then it’s baths and bedtimes, which we do separately, in separate bedrooms no less, by 8. Then when Noah finally gives up and goes the hell to sleep around 9:30 or so, Lance zombie-walks into our bedroom to plummet, face first, onto the bed, where I am after having finally nursed and bounced and rocked and patted Violet to sleep, and then we go through the aforementioned barely kissing goodnight routine, so we end up barely seeing each other at night either. We’ve talked about the fact that an eon ago we used to sleep late on weekends, have a casual brunch whenever we woke up, do some shopping before dinner and maybe catch a movie, lazily head out for drinks afterwards, then come back to our apartment and have sex on whatever surface we most desired before drifting peacefully off to sleep. We’ve also talked about how much we hate those assholes that we used to be.

There are other things too, like friendships that are slowly drifting away because I can’t ever answer an email or my phone and new friendships that are blossoming with the sole basis being that we both have children, and I could throw in my list of ways to hide the fact that you haven’t had a shower in five days (headbands, washing crucial areas with a washcloth, reapplying mascara, shampooing bangs only, etc.), but you’re mostly updated, Reader and I’ll be signing off now. Stay tuned for more regularly scheduled posts from KID-DESH. (Whoa. I had two cups of coffee today and it enabled me to make my very own pun. I’M ON FIRE, Y’ALL.)

My oldest and dearest Reader

Dear Future Me Reading This in 20 Years,

Sorry it’s been so long since I wrote to you. (You’re looking great for 48 by the way. Those hips might be a little bigger than you ever imagined they could be, but don’t sweat it. And quit complaining about your saggy boobs and get a better bra. Simple.) The thing is, it’s been a little busy around here. First of all, we survived Thanksgiving. I know, it’s always questionable, but we did it. (And you can blame your flabby 48-year old belly on the 200 pounds of stuffing you ate over Thanksgiving weekend 2011.) Here is what else your 28-year old self has been doing for the past month. Look back and laugh.

1. Chasing mice. Possibly rats. We came back from a trip to visit in-laws in October to the smell of rancid dead, which waged a two-month-long war between us (the Humans) and them (the Zombie Rodents). There is no victor yet and the battles continue daily. We called an exterminator, who told us we should just set traps. We check traps every day to find them tripped, food gone, and yet the ZRs are not trapped. At night they scritch scratch in the walls behind our bed. We keep a broom by our bedside, which we have almost mastered the art of pounding on the walls without even really waking up. Lance spends his days searching for and patching holes with spray-insulation. We’re having a great time with it.

2. Finding out that you’re having a girl! You know this already, because she is now 20 years old. But here in 2011 you just found out, and it’s really quite amazing to feel New Baby kicking around inside and thinking to yourself, “There she is,” or “That’s my daughter.” I hope you are happy with the name you chose, because right now you have no idea what you’re going to name her. You think of a different name every week, but none of them is really something that sticks around. You roll it around on your tongue for a week and you start to hate the way it sounds and Lance can always think of someone he knew in Kindergarten that had that name who pooped her pants.

3. Watching your baby boy turn TWO. The day he turned two, he threw a huge tantrum because his friend tried to play with one of his birthday toys, and you knew that HE knew that he was supposed to start acting like that because he had just turned two. You should have lied to him and told him he was three. Or four. Then he would have felt mature and been like, “Oh, pardon me, would you like to play with the mini grocery cart that I just unwrapped? Allow me to step aside out of your way, and while you’re playing, I’ll cut you a piece of my cake.”

4. Gearing up for Christmas. You’ve done 20 more of these holidays by now and I hope to God you’re living in Paris where there is a cup of espresso and a croissant waiting for you down the corner where you can stop in for a stress-free holiday break. YES I SAID HOLIDAY, FOX NEWS. OBVIOUSLY I AM GOING TO HELL. But if you HAVE come to your senses and moved to France you might not NEED a stress-free holiday break, because you will be far away from all your judgmental and inconsiderate relatives, who would never dream of coming to visit you in Paris because what if they accidentally slip on the ice and sprain their ankle? I mean, dear God, they’d have to go to the ER and leave WITHOUT PAYING A HOSPITAL BILL, because the French are fucking dirty communists. But besides all that, this year is looking like a really fun Christmas, because, if you’ll refer to Item Number Three, Noah is two! He’s obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine and when he sees that train set under the tree this year he is going to flip his shit, and you’re going to catch it all on video. (If you ARE still in America and feeling the holiday stress while you’re reading this, do yourself a favor and cheer yourself up by watching that video.)

5. FREAKING OUT about the GOP presidential nominees. You watch Jon Stewart to keep yourself laughing in hopes that the terror will subside, but NPR brings you back to reality the next day and you spend your days biting your nails and praying that God will protect the country from all of those nut-cases that are the next potential leaders of the free world.

6. Watching reruns of Felicity on Netflix. Don’t beat yourself up… you needed a break! Remember, you were pregnant and you had a two-year-old. It’s embarrassing, sure, but at least you don’t watch any daytime soaps, and what’s a stay-at-home-mom to do while she’s folding laundry, really?

7. Seeing some theatre. Lance gave you the amazing gift of going to see Memphis at TPAC. Remember that if he’s getting on your nerves, Future Me, because it was one hell of a date. He arranged babysitting and everything. You miss seeing Broadway theatre in 2011. I hope you are richer and have more time at 48 and you can get a subscription to your local traveling Bway house.

Well, you have to go now, because you have a pile of diapers sitting next to you that you have to fold, and an episode of Felicity waiting in your queue.

28-year-old You

Seeing as it's election day and all

I thought I’d post some of my thoughts for you. Feel free to a) laugh, b) scoff, or c) call me and/or meet me for coffee and tell me all the reasons I’m painfully deluded (if you’re my dad). OR (I dare to dream) d) realize I’m brilliant, come around to my way of thinking, and vote against the Tea Party today.

I just lost half my readers. Shake it off.

I started thinking about this in September, when I visited my friend Michael in Savannah. Michael introduced me to some of his friends, all of whom are medical students. We had dinner and ended up in deep discussion about medicine and insurance companies and hospital practices, etc. It was encouraging to meet all these idealistic doctors-in-training. They all have such good hearts. They aren’t in it for the money (there isn’t that much actually); they truly want to help people and make them well. It was only in discussion with them that I realized how utterly bound they are by the iron fist of the insurance companies. Everything they do has to be documented. It’s actually part of their training to learn how to do billing. I had no idea; did you, Reader?

A couple of weeks ago I read a news article about whooping cough killing 10 babies in California. Six of them were under three months old. I was furious. I kept thinking, if Noah were too young to be vaccinated and some other kid whose parents had decided not to vaccinate came in contact with him and he contracted the disease, I WOULD KILL SOMEBODY. No, seriously. You’d find my rotting corpse in a maximum security prison somewhere because I’d be all LEMME KILL SOMEBODY ELSE. WHO ELSE CAN I KILL. It’s just so completely unfair. And it made me think of all the kids who are suffering from some completely preventable disease because their parents didn’t want to vaccinate.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was just so upset. I was like, why wouldn’t you immunize your child? Lance reminded me of the autism link. It’s a very real concern. And although most medical professionals, including the CDC, the American Academy of Pediatrics, and the World Health Organization agree that the link is unfounded, many parents still argue that vaccinations caused their child’s autism. I respect that, I really do. Most doctors argue that teething does not cause fever. But they weren’t up all night with me when Noah cut his first two teeth. I think parents know more about their own child than the WHO and the AAP. BUT. All the major cases linking autism with vaccines are actually prior to 2001, when vaccines no longer contained mercury. Meaning even the slight chance that mercury-based vaccines were the cause of autism is no longer a reasonable argument against vaccinating. And the fact remains there is no hard evidence to support the vaccination-autism link.

And y’all, I gotta be honest. Even if there were a link, I’d still rather my son be alive with autism than dead from whooping cough. Just sayin’.

Now let me just say this, although I hope it’s obvious. I am in no way advocating rushing your 2-month old off to the doctor and getting him all shot up without doing your research. Not sure if you can tell from all the links I just pushed in your face, Reader, but I’m a huge proponent of doing research. I don’t think it’s right to just shrug and go along with whatever. In fact, even though we came up against a lot of opposition from friends and family, because of all the research I did before Noah was born we decided not to circumcise him, and I could not be prouder of our decision to leave him intact. (I’m sure his teenage self is going to really appreciate me telling you that. Do me a solid, y’all: if you ever see him, don’t mention to him that you are aware of the condition of his penis.) All that is to say, please find out what is happening to your kid and make informed decisions. That is all.

Back to the point. Somewhere in my fuming I remembered all my good friends who have children. It occurred to me that several of them are either vaccinating their children on a slower schedule than recommended and only getting what they consider to be the absolute essential vaccines, or not vaccinating their children at all. I realized my thinking was wrong because these friends of mine love their children dearly. They aren’t what I was picturing with the news articles about whooping cough, these dumb-ass parents who wanted to be hippie and cool and oops! their kid died. These are parents who are doing what they honestly believe is best for their child and who would be DESTROYED if anything ever happened to them. And it changed my perspective of the parents who hadn’t trusted vaccinations and therefore their children had died. They had just cause for not wanting to vaccinate. They had just cause for not trusting that medicine or the research that indicates no link between autism and vaccines.

So, new question. Why do many parents, especially today, believe that what is best for their child is to keep them away from those needles? Why is there currently such a huge mistrust of the medical community? Think about it. Our generation has seen a huge surge in home births or all-natural hospital births, circumcision rates are lower than ever, more moms are breastfeeding advocates (even though doctor’s offices continually hand out formula propaganda), and now this: vaccinations are on the downward slope.

I have the answer for you, Reader. INSURANCE COMPANIES. Insurance companies have been given too much power. They are the ones holding all the reigns. And people are afraid if they have their baby at the hospital, they might be forced to have an unnecessary C-Section. And why would a doctor, who went to school for 12 years to learn how to help people, do something like that? I honestly believe it’s because the insurance company is deciding when and how much they get paid. And doctors, in the end, have to feed their families too.

Please don’t misunderstand me; I’m not excusing corrupt doctors. But I believe that when the insurance companies became the controlling force behind the medical profession, that’s when bad hospital practices, unnecessary surgeries, and general corruption in the medical and pharmaceutical fields began to peak. Insurance companies screw the medical community just like they screw sick people, y’all. I had never thought about it until that night in Savannah.

And Obama wanted to change that. Yep, bringing it back to the election. You knew I’d get there dint ya? Tea-Partiers are trying to convince Americans that health care for everyone is a bad thing. That taking some of the power away from the insurance companies is a bad thing. That you, hard-working tax-payer, are going to be fucked financially because you’ll be paying for health care for children whose parents can’t afford it. That we, as Americans, will be fucked because we’ll be putting health care in the hands of the government and our health care will be so shitty then. Like how Canada, with their subsidized medicine, has shitty health care. Oh wait, they rank 30th on the World Health Organization’s list of countries’ health ratings… and America ranks 37th? WTF? Can that be right? (I’m employing the use of sarcasm, Reader. I know you don’t see that side of me very often, since I’m usually so gentle and kind when I rant.) And France and Italy have grabbed the first two spots on the list. BOTH COUNTRIES HAVE UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE, Y’ALL.

Tea-Partiers want to keep things the way the are. I don’t understand that. They want to avoid giving the government control of medicine in favor of letting the insurance companies keep it. Lord, have mercy on us if things continue the way they currently exist! Who knows what deadly disease will come back next.

In other news, I watched this and laughed my ass off. You should watch it too. (Thanks, thisisfyf!)

Please vote. Since I’m in favor of being honest, here’s my dirty confession: this whole post is written to assuage my guilt at not registering on time. I hope you can forgive me. Unless you are, in fact, a Tea-Partier, in which case you can buy me a drink later. ((sigh))

Yes, we can… I hope.

One thing this election has proved is how hateful we can be.

I’ve been reading Facebook status messages today and I think some of you aught to be ashamed of your attitudes. Griping about the election results will do you no good. Regardless of which way you voted, let’s try and think about the good in the situation! If NOTHING else (and I think there are several things), do you not realize that last night we defied all those years of racism and segregation? We said NO, HATRED, you will not get the better of me! For the first time in the history of the United States of America, we have an African American president. We can at least rejoice in that together, right?

And anyway, no matter what you think, the time has come for us to reunite. We are ONE NATION UNDER GOD and we best start acting that way if we care about the good of this country. We aren’t republicans and democrats after all. We are Americans. We have to work together! We have to believe that we can rebuild our great nation!

Lay down your hateful words; abandon your anger. Now is the time to pray! Now is the time to breathe easy! Now is the time to work! Now is the time to be proud.

The Pumpkin Formerly Known as Prince

Lance and I spent Halloween at my parents’ house in K-Town, Tennessee, carving pumpkins and handing out candy to ungrateful little twerps (I don’t know about you, but MY parents raised me to say THANK YOU. Apparently that doesn’t happen anymore). I’d venture a guess that each pumpkin says a little bit about his carver’s personality. Here’s what we ended up with. From left to right: Lance’s, Mom and Dad’s, my sister Ellen’s and mine, and my brother Jeremy’s, which we named The Pumpkin Formerly Known as Prince for no reason whatsoever.
We enjoyed a relatively scare-free evening until I went to bed and dreamed that we were shopping in a big Mega-market and everyone in the store was a Republican, and they turned to us like zombies and pulled out sticks and started chasing us and beating us up as we ran. We jumped in the car and I was screaming “DRIVE!”, while Lance was trying to start the car and ward off the blows of the Republican party.

I’ll be so glad when this election is over.

Say it ain’t so, Joe!

On Sunday Lance and I went to see the Jim Henson exhibit at the Smithsonian. It was one of those perfect fall days, and as we walked up the National Mall I looked around me and thought, I am so lucky. I live in this great city where tourists and natives alike come downtown to explore and take pictures and play kickball on the lawn, and the street vendors are selling pretzels, and there’s a guy up there selling Obama t-shirts, and here I am about to see an awesome muppets exhibit for free in one of the many museums surrounding me, and how many people can say that?

So I was basking in the peace of the moment as we passed in front of the African American “Obama for Prez!” t-shirt salesguy. And as we walked by him, he yelled out “Obama t-shirts! Get your Obam…. (noticing us) …I mean, McCain! Get your McCain t-shirts right here!”

I recant. I really hate this effing racist city.