One of my best friends texted me late last night. “I can’t stop crying,” she said. “I think the only thing I don’t tick in his hate column is Muslim.”
I momentarily logged into the Facebook account I deactivated a few weeks ago. Another friend, a Latino man, had posted a wry status wondering what he would look like blond. I deactivated again.
All last night and all day today I’ve been thinking about my black and brown friends, my immigrant friends, my queer friends, my disabled friends, my friends who must take medication every day to stay alive—medication most of them can only afford thanks to Obamacare. I think about every woman I know who relies on Planned Parenthood for reproductive healthcare and how fucked we’ll all be if and when it’s defunded.
Last night I felt numb and nauseous. Today I’m galvanized by rage.
Tomorrow I’ll be ready to get my hands dirty.