2017 began with some peculiar issues. I was officially 9 weeks pregnant and the biggest turd to ever get elected to a high office was taking over from a respectable one. To say the least, I was concerned about having a child in this age. Rampant racism and sexism grew beyond whispers and micro-aggression, to show us that it had never been resolved—not during the 1960s, not in the 1970s, not in the 1980s and certainly not in the color blind 1990s. Equality remains a goal, not an achievement. And, we must strive.
In February, I grew resigned to where I found myself as an American and focused on what I could do to mitigate the warehouse of hurt being delivered our way. My pregnancy proceeded, unlike the year before. It provides a welcome distraction from the day to day of being politically active. Unfortunately, it kept me from the Women’s March and the Science March that I wanted to take part in, because of complications I was diagnosed with. But as I saw violence escalating, I knew this was the right decision. My baby is my priority. I’m very glad that both protests were pulled off without police brutality against the citizens exercising their right. However, that is not a guarantee anymore. Protesting and protesters have been targeted by those in power, and the use of deadly force is on the table. Look at what happened at Standing Rock. Not to mention how they were later bowled over by corporations paying off politicians. (They didn’t give up though, and even with a judge clearing the way, another came a long to put a stop on it until reviewed again.) My heart is with the water protectors, endlessly thankful for their fight. Without people like this we’d be expected to drink sewage and chemical soup and be thankful.
For years we stood by watching police violence happen to other people. Philando Castille’s mother said it in June: when they are done coming for the black folk, they’re coming for you. Don’t doubt it. Most people in Germany felt quite comfortable allowing the final solution, until the teeth of that beast turned on them. Then, there was no one to help them. For real, Black Lives DO Matter.
Through the Spring, I saw all the work done over decades of hard work signed away in immoral executive orders. No one mentioned a thing, except for people like me, who are largely ignored and brushed aside. Democrats were busy fighting among each other still trying to apply blame to those who exercised their rights and voted their conscience, supporting Jill Stein, or writing in Bernie, or choosing other means. They also continued to blame Russia for the DNC collusion with the media to undermine Bernie in the primary, which is untrue (they would not have fired Debbie or Donna or the others if it were fake email that was leaked). But, you can’t talk to them. They’re still frothing for Hillary and pretending to resist. Meanwhile, their circle jerk nets them cute little kitty hats and #resist t-shirts. That’ll get ’em!
Summer landed like a hot, moist fuck you. Nothing much has changed on the political end, environmental end, or in my pregnancy. The placenta was quite content where it wrongly placed itself. Much like the idiot in office, it sat at the threshold of wreaking havoc. Just dandy! Closer to my due date, the doctor became concerned that my baby was developing smaller than she thought was adequate. Now, I was facing a fucked up country, more climate change unhindered, and the fear that something was wrong with my child.
2018, please be an awesome year.