Warning: More expletives this week. Also, my high-horse has been mounted. This post is pretty off-topic, so feel free to skip it altogether. I promise to return to message next time.
Well, I need tissues.
It’s a bone-chilling time and humor seems hard to come by. But Gail Collins managed it - sort of. And so I persevere in my noble aim. To wit, to consider something frivolous, like success and redefining it, in a new era, the era of President-Elect Rump.
Now, aside from the internalized misogyny that would allow any woman to vote for Trump, white women have a lot of explaining to do.
Really, was your bank account more important than electing a no-nothing sociopath with no ideals who used dangerous racist, sexist, xenophobic, hate-inciting rhetoric to whip up the public? Jewish women, did you tell yourselves that Israel was somehow threatened by Hillary Clinton? Explain that, please. Or, worse, did you rationalize Rump’s rhetoric by noting his Jewish son-in-law and figure you would be all right, so it didn’t matter? How do you explain the double-standard you applied to Hillary Clinton by voting for Rump?
What. The. Fuck.
“What does this mean for women and success?” The husband asked.
Nothing good, is my answer.
But that is rawther bleak of me. Let's move on.
Now some of you know that I went to Goodwill and bought myself a pantsuit to wear to the election. It was a bit old, and a bit polyester, and a bit dated. A pantsuit. Yuck. Putting on my Goodwill pantsuit took me back to the mid 1990s, when the last vestiges of a mainstream women’s movement were dealt the death blows of the backlash. So, there is much work to do to advance equality.
Oops, that wasn’t moving on, was it? So sorry.
Well, on the bright side, there is the moon, which is going to be very, very bright in a few days, the brightest moon in quite a long time. It will be a “Supermoon” because the moon will be the closest it has been to earth since 1948. And just in time to remind us that there is more to life than politics.
There are also shoes, which I bought. Very nice ones. Short boots, actually. I indulged myself.
And sweaters, which I bought. Again, I indulged myself.
And pasta, which I intend to indulge myself with tonight.
And so I have my boots to wear when I put one foot in front of another to move forward, and my sweater to counter the chill in the air, literal and figurative.