Oh, 1986…what a great time to be an 8 year old. I couldn’t have told you who was the president, but I certainly would have known how to make a diamond out of a lump of coal. My parents took me to see Ferris Buller’s Day Off in the movie theater and I heard the snotty Chez Quis maitre-d’ proclaim his concern for how my generation was going ruin everything. Of course, it had zero impact on me then. I was more concerned about how many cats Alf would eat that week or what crazy hijinks PeeWee would get up to in his Playhouse (speaking of sad futures). As I got older – and especially from college to present – that line would pop up over and over in my head as my horizons broadened and I became more aware of the world around me.
Today, as I write this, I am afraid. Not the I-might-get-caught-skipping-school kind of fear, rather, the what-kind-of-world-am-I-leaving-for-my-kids type of terror. After I broke my ankle, I sunk into a heavy depression. I was also on some pretty powerful pain killers. Somewhere in the fugue state, it dawned on me that I should probably take a break from Facebook. For the first time since I signed up in 2007, I disabled my account for 2 weeks.
As the healing process continued and my medication usage decreased, I began to feel better about life in general. After two weeks of radio silence, I reactivated my account and felt like an asshole when I saw how many messages and alerts I had missed. (By the way, how is that a thing? I thought if you didn’t have an account anymore, people couldn’t tag or PM you. I was wrong.) My faith in FB humanity had been temporarily restored as I rejoined my online communities and thanked people for reaching out when I needed to hear from them the most.
I continued to scroll.
In the beginning, when Donald Trump becoming president seemed as likely as Ferris being a fry cook on Venus, I had one or two distant acquaintances declare their support. Those were some of my first – and easiest – unfriendings in my FB history. As this nightmarish campaign continued and sane people across the land continued to chuckle at the thought of this (I can’t even use the term “man”….even “person” seems generous…) lump of skin becoming the leader of America, I witnessed a few more folks in my feed appear to be in his dirty, orange corner. This time, instead of cutting ties, I decided to keep on eye on things. You know, like view the world through the eyes of a bigot? But now, today, when the two mainstream choices are who they are…there are too many in my feed to monitor. And their posts are just too disturbing.
I understand why people are so emotional about Hillary Clinton. I am not happy that our first potential female president is surrounded by so much corruption and controversy. There are SO MANY better women role models and potential leaders for me to show my daughter as she grows up – but they won’t make history like HC has and possibly will continue to do. The Clinton Foundation is like a beautiful red Ferrari – it looks great with Ferris and Sloan in the front seat. But don’t forget that Cameron is hiding under a blanket in the back. So that’s how it is in their family. I understand people having powerful feelings against her being in office, I truly do. However.
Here is where my stomach starts to turn. If I read a “Killery” comment about the shadiness of her deleted emails, I understand the passion and concern of that writer. Questioning her motivation to be in power and wondering how the Clinton’s amassed such a fortune since Bill was in office? I, too, will never quite understand how that all worked out. But the first time I saw the “If Hillary can’t satisfy Bill, how can she satisfy America” meme – I cried. I shed huge, angry, frustrated tears of disbelief.
Because it wasn’t her fault her husband cheated on her.
Because I can’t even imagine how painful that time was for her.
Because her abilities or inabilities in the bedroom have an effect on her partner’s actions?
Because if she’s not good at pleasing a man sexually in a satisfactory manner, she can’t be president!
(Oh, and the poster of this degrading propaganda? A woman.)
But her opponent, OH HER OPPONENT. Is a pig. Is a sniffing, snorting, oinking, interrupting, mansplaining, disgusting excuse for a man. HE can say or do ANYthing to women that he wants to. HE can cheat on wives, be married multiple times, make outrageous comments about his attraction to his own daughter, assess the worth of women by their weight, and flat (chested) out call certain females disgusting. HE can openly admit to proudly sexually assaulting women. HE can. HE just can. Why? Is it because he promised to build a wall? Because he’s rich? Because…Miss America? Because he’s supported by the KKK? Because he not a career politician? Because of his vague promise to make America great again?
Because he’s a man?
I am upset at America for letting this happen. I simply can’t believe this is the best we could do. By no means am I any kind of political expert – FAR from it. Which means I have no idea what goes on in back rooms, behind closed doors, under that blanket. I don’t fully understand how we got here or how we’re going to get out of this mess. I’m preparing myself now for how I’m going to apologize to my children when this all blows up – which it will regardless of which candidate wins. And although I tried to lighten up my dark feelings with some 1980’s related references, I hope that hasn’t taken away from the genuineness of my dread.
Truly, I weep for the future.