Since summer 2016, my heart and mind have been heavy with questions. Few friends and loved ones grasped what I witnessed in Charleston, South Carolina, the choke hold of cultivated cultured hate on the streets, in cafes and in the university classrooms: Trump presidency was already secured in the living rooms, on the golf course and in the conference centers of the Holy City. For survival, I surrendered myself in long walks, longer runs and more than regular engagement in deep meditation and a lot more frivolous reading. In spring of 2016, I eagerly anticipated my move from Charleston. While the move did not alter the course of an ill-fated election – the world is after all in the moment of a new inauguration – I am now fortunate enough to have conversation partners who at the very least courageously name what they witness.
Today is another day and another moment, protesters are on their feet, strong numbers across the country: for those who bore witnessed to yesterday’s speech, more reasons were added to the cacophony of reasons to do something deliberate in resistance against the evil of present moment.
All in all, I am not at any of the marches, Jamilah Lemieux’s January 17, 2017 opinion piece Why I’m Skipping The Women’s March on Washington in Colorlines hits home with my own line of thinking and sentiments. Today, I am caring of my emotional, spiritual and physical well-being, preparing as much as possible for what will not doubt a more challenging times for those of conscience and those like living in ‘Othered‘ bodies.