Post-election shock: preparing for what comes next

Monday Missive

My dear Kindred Spirit,

In January of this year, on the eve of my 57th birthday, I was booked on a flight from Dallas to Savannah, Georgia. The flight was delayed many times while we waited for the plane to arrive. When it finally did, the desk agent said they’d get it cleaned up and ready for us as quickly as possible. Within the hour, we were on board.

From my window seat in front of the wings, it appeared that all the seats were full. The woman seated to my left looked remarkably like my late grandmother, with her bleached blonde teased-up hair, red lipstick, and big, 1980’s-style glasses. She sounded like her, too, with a raspy smoker’s voice, and a delightful southern twang. My grandmother was a bit of a wild woman, truly one of a kind. I kept stealing glances at my seat companion- the resemblance was uncanny- and I felt the pang of missing my beloved Grandma.

The take off was unremarkable but soon, just after the flight attendants distributed snacks and drinks, we heard a very loud bang. The kind of loud you do NOT want to hear on a plane. There were gasps and whispered questions all around us. My seat mate said, “What do you suppose that was?” 

I had no idea, but I noticed that the plane was very slowly descending through the clouds.

It seemed like forever before the pilot’s smooth voice announced that we had descended to 10,000 feet for safety purposes. He said an indicator showed that the cargo bay door had opened. “We’re currently making arrangements for an emergency landing. We need to be on the ground as quickly as possible, and I’ll be back to let you know what to expect. Please stay in your seats. Flight crew, please prepare the cabin for landing.”

I’ve never seen flight attendants run up and down an aisle before. It was unnerving and unsettling. As she rummaged through her purse, my seatmate said, “I always listen to my intuition. This morning I had a strong feeling I shouldn’t get on this flight, but I did anyway,” and then she began to sob. I heard someone behind me throw up, and more muffled crying from the rows in front of me.

I patted my seatmate’s hand for a few minutes, as her sobbing quieted. It occurred to me that I should probably let some people know what was going on, and I quickly texted a few family members, and my dear friend Linda, whom I had just visited in Dallas. It was our first in-person visit after four years of online friendship, and it had been beyond wonderful. I clasped my hands in my lap, and I prayed that we would have many more times together. That I would see my kids again. That this plane would land safely on the ground. I thought about all of the families whose lives would be disrupted if we didn’t.

We soon learned that we were to land in Memphis, Tennessee. I’d never been to Memphis, but I’d spent lots of time in NE Tennessee, as it is my mother’s birthplace, and her parents’ too, including the grandmother who seemed to have reincarnated to keep me company on this flight.

As the clouds made way for us, and the plane descended farther, I saw something I never, ever want to see again. A city’s worth of emergency vehicles were waiting for us on the tarmac: fire trucks, ambulances, police cars all with lights flashing. So many emergency responders. That’s when I got REALLY scared.

What the heck did they think was going to happen?

It was a long and bumpy landing, but we made it to the ground in one piece. The passengers were hushed. I reached over and squeezed my seatmate’s hand. She told me she was on her way to the funeral of a much-loved family member. She said, “Honey, I thought there for a little bit that everyone would have to keep their Sunday best on for my funeral, too.”

The pilot announced that we would be sitting on the tarmac for a bit because the plane had to be inspected before they’d allow us to taxi to the gate, but it shouldn’t take too long “because they really want us off of this plane.” 

They weren’t the only ones.

It wasn’t too long before I was sitting at Gate 22, dazed and confused and wondering what this meant for my plans, and what to do next.

I had the same feeling on Wednesday morning when I woke to the news that Donald Trump had been elected to a second term. The country I have lived in my whole life, in which I have raised my kids, in which I have actively participated in its democracy, and across which I have traveled many times, seemed to be headed in one direction, and then the cargo bay door opened mid flight, and suddenly we were plunged into uncertainty, with no idea where we were going to land, and whether it was even possible to do so safely.

Sadly, my Kindred Spirit, I know I don’t have to describe this feeling. I know you are feeling it, too.

What I want to say to you is this: It’s okay to take a break, to take time to process and feel. After the news sunk in, I spent a good hour pacing back and forth and Voxing with Linda about our rage and our bewilderment and our fear. It felt good to name it and express it and have it be met by someone who loves me and knows me so well. If you haven’t done so already, I encourage you to find someone in your life with whom you can do the same. This is especially recommended if, like me, you have family members who are Trump supporters, people whom you love who have actively chosen what comes next. It’s hard to wrap one’s head around.

In this new scenario, the emergency personnel on the tarmac are us. I have no idea what that actually looks like (I’m still in the dazed and confused phase), but I know for sure we’ll need to band together to stand up to the tyranny of Trump, and especially to the patriarchy of which he is Dick-tator in chief.

There are powerful people who have worked hard, and who have spent a lot of money, to help Trump get back into office. These men are the ultimate opportunists. They know how to stroke Trump’s ego, and to take advantage of his position of power to bring about the vision they have for our country. That vision includes stripping you of your rights. They want to abolish your rights to make deeply personal healthcare decisions, to love whom you love, to freely divorce, to choose not to have children, and even to decide how many children you can reasonably raise.

We are heading into dark territory, and we will need to be each other’s lights. I believe they underestimate the power that we have.

I believe WE underestimate the power that we have.

Take the time now to take care of yourself, to strengthen your bonds with the women and other marginalized people in your life, to listen to each others’ fear, despair and worry; to cry, to hug, to hold hands, and to affirm your love and support for each other. And then, start looking around for resources. Who is doing good work? Who has a plan? What organizations do you think are worthy of our time and our money? As you find them, please post them in the comments below or message me privately. I will be looking for them, too.

This is not a time to passively accept plans that are meant to keep us weak and dependent. It’s time to assess our options, to gather our resources, and to tap into our sense of power. 

It took about three hours of sitting, feeling frozen, in the Memphis airport for my brain and my intuition to come back online. The airline personnel were talking about putting us back on the same plane, and I thought “Hells no!” As I considered my options, it suddenly occurred to me: Hotels have airport shuttles. I could book a room, and a shuttle would come and get me. Which is exactly what I did. When the airline called me at midnight to say that the flight to Savannah was about to leave, and to ask if I was planning to get on it, I said, “No. No I am not.” 

I spent my birthday making my own way home.

in solidarity,

Laura