SCENE: December 2016. Nonprofit event. Lots of folks I haven’t seen since before The Election. Near the food table, I’m delighted to run into a colleague who’s a Black man. We hug and start catching up:
ME: *does the thing I’ve been starting every conversation with for a month* Oh my god, isn’t it awful? I can’t believe it. So terrible to see this revealed in our country. I just – I had no idea.
HIM: *looks me straight in the eye, pauses for a beat.* I’ve always known.
Dear ones. I tell this story now because: When we talk about “finishing strong” and “run through the finish line,” please remember that this didn’t start with DJT and it won’t end with him.
It’s always been here, in the blood that has soaked this stolen native land and the bones buried unquietly, from 1619 to the latest extrajudicial killing by police.
The finish line is far far away, when we’re living in an equitable society where we can no longer predict people’s outcomes based on their identity groups like race, gender, or disability.
Taking down Trump is fucking crucial, don’t get me wrong. Dismantling the racism, white supremacy, anti-Blackness, misogyny, cruelty and greed that got him elected by millions of Americans — as my friend imprinted on my heart in three words, we must always know that THAT is the real work. Even if we win this time, we don’t get to rest. The job won’t be done, it’ll just be begun. Again. And again.
And thank you to my brave friend who trusted me to hear truth and gave me grace for having believed a comfortable lie.
Black lives matter.