Why I Am Hopeful

It should come as no surprise that I voted for the Democratic candidate in this presidential election, and that I, along with over 61 million other Americans, feel bereft and stupefied. The relentless hateful rhetoric of racism, sexism, and xenophobia stemming from the president-elect’s campaign constantly stoked fears that it was not safe to be a non-white immigrant. To me, the election result is simply frightening. I do empathize that both parties have failed large swaths of the population for many years, causing a deep desire for change, for a candidate who spoke unscripted and was not bought. Undoubtedly, the new administration is a complete break from politics as usual, with fervent hopes that the new president proves to be a true champion of the people. Keeping this in mind, I know that many of his constituents are neither racist nor sexist. However, it is hard to reconcile that good folks would vote for a man who openly spewed hate and seems anathema to America’s credo of equal rights and equal opportunities. Do they realize what they are saying when they dismiss his comments as “only rhetoric”? Words do matter. A white person can easily proclaim being a one-issue voter on taxes, the Supreme Court, or abortion. It isn’t so simple when you are on the receiving end of racism and xenophobia. I will now always wonder if the supporters I know personally are actually closet racists instead of decent and fair. In my mind we’ve come a long way in addressing prejudice, but the incendiary tone of the election unmasked this false impression. My most harrowing experience with this occurred when I was about 8 years old. A large, blond youth in my neighborhood routinely shouted racial slurs at me from a distance, which was relatively harmless in retrospect. One day when we both happened to be alone on the street, he hunted me down like a little animal, and though I gave him a good chase with my short legs pumping as hard as possible, he quickly caught me. Then he forcefully spit in my hair on the top of my head. His thick saliva slowly oozed on my scalp. I have thankfully never experienced anything as severe since then, although the bigotry has continued. I never thought I would feel that same sense of terror again. In the first few years after my arrival in the U.S., I firmly believed that the promise of the American dream was tangible and real. Anyone can make it here, regardless of background. Being an optimist about the land of the free was easy, and I chose to become a citizen almost ten years ago. This week my optimism about my adopted country has wavered significantly, and I have been both desperate and eager to find a sliver of hope or silver lining. Several obvious takeaways are encouraging: anything is possible; we are more powerful than we think; and there is no time to waste. The election’s outcome surprised even many […]

Why I Am Hopeful was originally published to CelluliteSolutions.org

from
http://www.cellulitesolutions.org/why-i-am-hopeful/