Rising Back Up

Pic; @teenvogue/instagram
In light of last weeks’ Presidential Election, I’ve
suffered from a slump I wasn’t fully aware of suffering from.
 It was an act of
mitosis; every grieving American, and woman, became part of me. Their
frustration was my frustration, because it felt like Brexit was happening all
over again, but on a larger than life scale. This was America. Obama’s America.
The country of self-confessed freedom and greatness. A nation that elected a
black man as President for the first time, and the second time after that, and
it felt a lot like progress. Of doing what we are meant to do. Now there is an
ache. An ache of ‘what-could-have-been’. There seemed to be no way to move this
ache, this loss of glass ceiling smashing and love winning. Nothing to
remove the feeling ‘maybe we were asking too much’. And I thought over and over
what exactly it is that I felt.
An instagram account and poet you must follow – Nayyirah Waheed.
But mostly? I am tired. I am overwhelmed. I am
disappointed. But I will not let this envelope me any longer. Hell no. Instead,
I want to fight. I want to educate
myself further, because being tired and disappointed and overwhelmed are words
that do not hold enough gravity to what I feel. Frustration does not match the
way my whole being is on edge, realising how ill-timed my optimism was. How
wrong it was. How much I’ve lost, how much bigger the fight is.
I still
want more.
I want numbers and statistics to flow from my
tongue, like the way water runs down a stream. Smooth, easy, calm. I want
knowledge, all knowing smug knowledge, smirking knowledge, because feelings no
longer matter. Who cares how someone might feel? Feeling is not knowledge. It
does not make moves, it does not pass bills and legal documents, the way
knowledge and words can. It can be flimsy. It can be easily backed into a
corner without knowledge.. Unless they feel the same, deep down, then nothing
will change. It’s the way things are set; how one can make an argument and
deliver it will grandeur, convince you yes
we’re right
. It’s a numbers game, a game of manipulation, of deceit, of
downright politics at its core. I want to be calculated. Cutthroat.
Self-aware. I want to be your angry feminist nightmare, because if you thought
I was bad before, you’re in for a treat.
I do not want to be cushiony and understanding,
cheering for ‘positivity only!1!’ because at the end of the day, your friends
‘beliefs’ can be, at its core, erasing another persons’ being. And I won’t have
Soz not soz, and all that sweet cheeks.
It’s not happening. Didn’t you know it’s 2016? We
don’t do racism, homophobia or misogyny in this day or generation. It’s not how
we live our lives, because love wins and
the future is female.
There may be a hierarchy and a need for people in
power, but those ‘below’ are not dogs and will not be pushed around as if we are
bits of gristle on your plate. We are not blind, nor stupid, nor naïve. You’ve started a fire you can only add
gasoline to.
You might feed on who you are, what people think you are, how
much dollar bills you’ve got in that bank. But we are rising and believing and
fighting to have a better future. A future we want. A future of freedom and
greatness, of freedom in our bodies and our decisions, of love and unity, of
building people up, not building up walls to keep them out. The future is ours.
And we will have it how we want it. We will.
Because love trumps hate, and I’ve always been good
at card games.
Remember that. And bring your argument next time
you try to let hate win, because I’ll be bringing mine. And like Annalise
Keating, I’ll know my shit. So make sure yours is water tight.

Lou x
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One Response to Rising Back Up

  1. Pingback: On Giving No Fucks | Predicaments of Lou

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