Yesterday the temp was going to be high, so after our Election Day photo op, my oldest daughter took off her long-sleeved Future President shirt and said she’d wear it the next day. It broke my heart to see her put it on this morning. I am so sorry we couldn’t get it done, couldn’t shatter that ceiling.
I don’t have any fight in me today. I am tired. So damn tired. I’m going to be ok with that. Tomorrow, or maybe in a few days, I’ll be ready to fight again. I’ll be ready to be, as Glennon Doyle Melton says, a Love Warrior. Today I’m a Love Puddle.
At least I am not alone. When I first identified as a feminist, I was the only feminist I knew. Now I have a wealth of soul sisters. Who have taught me grace and fierceness and compassion that knows no end. Love is forever tries, to again quote Melton. Give me a few days, and I’ll be ready to keep trying.
Just voted. As I walk away from the polling place, I can feel my heart in my chest. It feels like it is wrapped in love.
There is an old, deep wound that I carry, that I’ve carried for almost as long as I’ve known my name. It is a girl child in a church pew, in a church where there could never be a woman pastor. The church believed in the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, so I didn’t understand why the Holy Spirit in me wasn’t as qualified to lead as the Holy Spirit in boys, but apparently it wasn’t. I wasn’t.
I grew up, read and traveled and lived both in and beyond the church, and there were more, similar woundings.
I’ve largely made my peace, mostly by saying, in actions & words, “That’s bullshit.” Today I said it with my vote.
My heart feels wrapped in love.
On Election Day tomorrow, I am wearing a yellow rose to remember the suffragettes, who wore them 100 years ago. Let’s not sugar coat it: the suffragettes were called whores and destroyers of families and morals. They held their heads high. They won the vote, then they continued to work for full political and legal recognition and inclusion of women. The vote I make tomorrow in this historic election, I make with them as my witnesses. I bow before the long line of women who have had to make hard choices to do the necessary thing, women who have birthed in their bodies and their spirits a better future, who have grabbed hold of the moral arc and with strong mama arms bent it towards justice, and I say with all my heart, with every part of my being, “Thank you. May I make you proud.”