anxieties about trump presidency: an open letter

By Anonymous

Sometimes I fear the inevitable. I think that my brain goes into overload and tries so hard to make up for the world and its failures. I believe that we are seeing an uprising. This uprising of fascism. It scares me to know that one day we will all, even our thoughts, be shifted and be redone and reclaimed by the subliminal messaging of the advertisements that will undoubtedly bring us back half a century- if not more. Writing might be a lost art. It is the only thing that helps with the process. In the midst of all of this writing I feel as though it will never be enough. I know that it is something, it is something good, something to record and keep this history alive and well for the future to reckon with. They will and they must reckon with this. I wish we were more capable of reckoning with this now, although I fear that we are greatly encumbered by living day by day. 

I believe that as humans, part and parcel, the only way to defy the things that are truly evil is to say and do something. It’s a stupid little old adage, the whole “see something say something” it’s catchy, but when it really matters, would anyone be willing to actually do just that? I believe that when there is extreme ethnonationalism there is a lack of empathy towards those who might actually be different. We believe in American exceptionalism, but are we truly exceptional? I fear that we are not as exceptional as we claim to be. If we were exceptional, would we have billionaires that control everything. Would our freedoms be repressed on a daily basis? Would we be living in a society that prioritizes the few at the cost of the many? As Victor Klemperer said on May 15, 1933 "I have given up thinking about things. I feel it's all coming to an end.[...]The mood of the present time, the waiting, the visiting one another, the counting of days, the inhibited telephone conversations and correspondences--- all of that could be recorded in memoirs one day. But my life is coming to an end, and these memoirs will never be written." He is not all doom and gloom, on May 27, 1942 he said "I shall go on writing. That is my heroism. I will bear witness, precise witness!" Out of despair comes hope and a way out. I want to write my way out. I want to build the way out. I want to write the way to the future.

The idea of being a witness to horrors and to record them when all else is actively failing has always been interesting to me. I have always wanted to live history, and I know that history happens every day, but I have never once wanted to live this kind of history. I wanted to live this singularly radiant American Dream from which all people could become President. Where a smart, intelligent, woman could become the best that we have to offer. I have never once wanted to live through the rise of facism, or white supremacy, or bigotry, but this is the world in which I live. A world where there is no "innocent." Places like these, places where people die and the world becomes desensitized to violence loose innocence. We have all lost our innocence and now bear the responsibility of whatever happens. We have become culpable or accomplices to this end goal.