living life out loud

For years, I’ve lived my life out loud, online and very publicly. I felt safe doing so, and if I’m honest, I felt like it was my birthright as an American woman to do so. I haven’t been feeling that safety since the infamous Trump tape broke. In fact, the days after that story went viral, I had quite the PTSD experience. Trump, you see, is quite like the person who raped me when I was 16 – entitled, from the “good” side of town (because we all know that money only creates “good” people who live in “good” places). He also thought he had a right to “grab ’em by the pussy” because he was a football player, because he had money, because he was a privileged white male.

I’m feeling less safe these days, as I said. My response to his “election” was to delete every social media profile I had, save Facebook, and I took a few weeks’ break from that. I became fearful of my country, of the people who would vote for such a man, or who would assist in electing him by selfishly sharing disproven “evidence” that helped other weak-minded people not vote for Hilary. See, I’m not such a big fan of Hilary myself, but I understand my responsibility as a voter – my responsibility to my fellow Americans and not my own personal likes or dislikes. I made the only sane choice that could be made in this election cycle. And some really violent and ugly people – apparently a few more than there were willing to be sane – helped bring a fascist to power.

But this isn’t about that, so much. This is about reclaiming my safety to live out loud as a socialist, bisexual, Pagan, mixed race person – and helping others do the same. So I’m not going to sit down and shut up, or hide, or change the things I say or where I say them. In fact, I’m going to do the opposite. I already have been. I’m going to keep speaking up. I’m going to keep organizing. I’m going to keep doing small, every day actions to RESIST Trump’s America every fucking step of the way. Because my dad didn’t raise me to lay down and take it. He raised me to stand and fight. There’s a reason why “The Black Parade” always made me cry after he left:

When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band
He said, “Son, when you grow up
Would you be the savior of the broken
The beaten and the damned?”
He said, “Will you defeat them
Your demons, and all the non-believers
The plans that they have made?”
“Because one day I’ll leave you
A phantom to lead you in the summer
To join the black parade.

 

So I’m in the black goddamn parade. I’m going to continue to live out loud, but with more purpose. Because honestly? Fuck Trump America. They don’t get to win. I’m not going to hide.

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