Goddamn Americans

A year ago to the day (thanks for the reminder, Facebook!) I wrote this post. I'm embarrassed that it even exists, really, because of what it says about who I used to be as a person. In a nutshell: I'd said "all lives matter." Then I checked myself. I checked the privilege and subliminal racism that my Black ass had been harboring simply from growing up and remaining in a primarily white community.

And I continue to check myself. I grow older, I learn more. Sure. I also make it a point to read the damn news.

God knows I don't want to. God knows I want to turn a blind eye to all of this. It's horrible to watch. The world is heartbreaking. I'm already enough of a mess in my little apartment in Podunk. Why would I bring the world, which is worse than my life, into a life I already can't handle?

A friend of mine—white guy, local to the Valley, choosing to not vote this election, and yes, all of that does make a difference so don't even start with me—asked me why I even bother. His reasoning was, what can we even do as individuals when it comes to all of this? When it comes to Florida, when it comes to Black lives, when it comes to Syrian refugees and France and Palestine and Islamophobia and hatred and fear?

The answer I had for him is: I don't fucking know. One of the 8000 tragedies this month (I can't even remember which one) pushed me over the edge. He came to my house so we could go for a hike and he found me crying in a corner on the floor in the dark, smoking a stale cigarette and swirling a large glass of Jack. "He's going to win," I kept saying. "He's going to win. I'm so scared. He's going to win. I'm so scared."

The answer he gave me was so sweet and so genuine that I adored him for it: "It's okay, Boatwright," he said. "You're safe here, today, now. He's not coming after you."

I looked up at him. I put down the cigarette. (I don't even fucking smoke. I found that thing in the bottom of a purse. It had to be at least 5 years old.) And I said, "Wanna order a pizza?"

I saw this on Facebook last night, and I loved it, and I shared it:

If you'd like to see the responses I got on it, feel free to check out the original post on my Facebook page; I made it public. 

I wasn't particularly riled up about any of the responses until someone said, "Such a ridiculous post." 

Okay. Okay.

I wish I were the kind of person who could just get up and take her purse and leave (read: I wish I were Viola Davis), but yes, I took the bait. Pat yourself on the back; you've once again successfully started shit with Kyle Boatwright.

Okay.

At the end of the day, politics are really what you care about as an individual, are they not? Who you gonna vote for? What works for you? What doesn't?

The problem is that if we vote like that, we're just...not very good members of society. Which has been the problem all along.

I get the appeal of a third party candidate. I really, really, really do. But now is not the time, because realistically: it will not work. This country is in a state such that it is literally ready to elect Trump—this country is NOT ready to elect a third party. The paradigm shift that you're looking for is a good one, and it's one that I look for ultimately as well. But it's not happening this year. What will happen if Trump gets elected? What will happen to your sisters, your friends of color, 99% of society? 

I don't know the answer. But I know that it will be terrifying. So yes. Today, I will settle for the lesser of two evils.

I do not approve of the shit that went down with the DNC and Bernie. I do not approve of a lot of what Hillary has to say. 

BUT.

I do not have the luxury of voting third party. Nor do I have the luxury of simply not voting. I am a low-income Black woman in the arts with a very large number of health problems.

So yes, on this blog, on this post, on my Facebook page, it boils down to the vote with self-interest at hand. Who am I gonna vote for? What works for me? Hillary works for me, because at the end of the day, Hillary is not the evil that will take us back to a place where white men dominate even more than they already do. 

And it's far bigger than me. Yes, I am voting in the interest of me not ending up dead or worse. But what does this country need at the end of the day? People are dying in the streets every damn day, our people, American people, and what is being done about it? I can't know how I would vote if I had a different background, of course I can't. But I can't see myself in a different life voting so as to prioritize, say, the economy or my taxes (I'm playing nice right now) over the lives of my countrymen. These are LIVES. Say it with me. THESE. ARE. LIVES.

And you white men who are my friends, you who call my voice "ridiculous," even you who don't care one way or the other: it is what it is, man. You are entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your opinion, and to everything else you receive on a day to day basis that you don't even notice: that's what white male privilege is. (Please note that this is not me hating you for it. This is me pointing out that it exists. Check your privilege, absolutely. Ignorance leads to disaster. But I am quite aware that you have no say in being born a white male in America any more than I have say in being born a Black female. This is not that conversation.)

Imagine. Imagine being so white, so male, so straight, so cis, that voting for a third party just to prove a point is a risk that you can afford to take. Imagine that luxury. 

Would that I could. Would that I could write in Bernie (who, by the way, is calling for unity within the party, just a heads up...) and prove a point. 

I'm entitled to my opinion as well. I'm entitled to the freedom that you have. I'm a goddamn American.