Two days ago, Amanda Gorman blew my mind. And I definitely wasn’t alone. From the moment she recited the first word of her poem, “The Hill We Climb,” my Twitter feed for the rest of Wednesday can basically be summarized by the words of White House Press Secretary Jen Psaki:
If you haven’t seen or listened to or read a transcript of Gorman’s poem, well what are you waiting for? In all seriousness though, witnessing Gorman’s passion and belief in her words taught me a lot. Last newsletter, I left us with the message to “fight onward.” But I didn’t always appreciate the value of resilience and conviction. Gorman’s words also reminded me of where my head was at not even three months ago.
Flashback to November 3rd, 2020. It’s election night. CNN’s on, and things are taking a turn for the worse. Texas, which, earlier in the day, really did seem like it could flip blue, is now racking up the red vote at an exceedingly alarming rate. Other states are also taking a hot minute counting, as election night stretches into election week, and it all just seems so uncertain.
This was the night that originally inspired this newsletter, actually, as it was also one of the hardest times in recent memory I’ve had falling asleep. I actually didn’t sleep that night at all, but this time was different. Usually, I get frustrated with my inability to fall asleep, and this frustration means I put more pressure on myself, which, in the end, makes me even less able to fall asleep. But this time, I wasn’t mad at myself. This time, I felt like I needed to stay awake. The thoughts racing through my head felt urgent and fleeting. I knew I had to write them down.
I have a confession: I wasn’t happy the next morning. I wasn’t happy in my 8am Zoom seminar when my professor mentioned it seemed like Joe Biden was going to do just fine. I wasn’t happy when later he did just fine. I didn’t feel like celebrating when the news outlets finally called Arizona. Biden winning didn’t feel like a victory. I knew he wasn’t going to fight for my interests. He won the nomination before I could even vote in the New York primary. And I was stunned the race was even so close.
All night I’d spent journaling dramatically, self-admittedly almost irrationally, about how someone like Biden probably won’t win re-election, when no one I know had been truly excited about him as our candidate. Political polarization might seem like an old story at this point, but it never stopped happening, it’s still ongoing and getting worse. If the Republican candidate turns out to be just another even worse version of Trump, we could lose to them because Trump’s fanbase went wild over having someone even more radical to back. And in response, we’re supposed to just bite our tongues and re-elect someone... so... moderate?
At the time, it felt like time was running out. The earth is drowning inside of itself from climate change, pandemics are ravaging what’s left more frequently than ever, racism, police brutality, and hate crimes are a daily threat to people’s lives, and our data is being sold all the time in the age of surveillance capitalism. It felt like we were running out of time, and I didn’t know if we’d get another chance to support someone even remotely as revolutionary as some of the other Democratic contenders again. I journaled about everything at stake. I felt utterly hopeless. I couldn’t see a way forward.
But I slept the next night. And the next. How did I do it? Simply put, emotions fade. They need to. To cope, we need to be able to forget, so we’re able to heal. What I’ve learned since, is that this is resilience too. But if this is true, then why do I feel shame and embarrassment for feeling emotions in the moment? If I think about it, that’s the only chance I’ll ever have to feel them! There’s a lot of power in letting emotions drive us to fight for political change. That said, when emotions fade, and they will fade, we can’t become complacent. This is what I’ve learned from Gorman’s poem. Even when the election result itself felt uninspiring at best, and my brain couldn’t help but simulate a bleak 5-year plan in response, less than three months later, I’d find myself ready to bounce back, to continue the fight.
“When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.”
-Amanda Gorman
Check out Jordyn’s piece on emotional wellness and consumerism. Read here!