Essay

It’s not me, it’s you

I’ve never been divorced. I hope I never will be divorced. I think, though, that if I were facing divorce, …

On writing. . .or, more specifically, on being read. . . .

I rather readily admit that I didn’t know what I was doing when I started this lark. One day, after months and months and months of thinking, I said to the man: “I think I’d like to try writing.”.

And, so, I did. I tried writing.

On now. . .and the next four years. . . .

People, with much more insight than I, have worked diligently to compile a list of organisations that will help foster, support, and protect those now at heightened risk and that will be working over the next four years to ensure the American Dream doesn’t become a nightmare.

On faith and hope. . .and humanity. . . .

I should be safe. I should be free. I should feel it’s okay to speak my mind. To shout out from the rooftops about the hideous things going on the world around me.

On ranting. . .or is it rambling. . . .

I don’t drink Trump’s Kool Aid. I won’t do it. I do not and will not buy the argument that it’s not ‘really’ about racism or misogyny or xenophobia or hate. It is. It is about that.

But it’s also about a group of people who feel they are finally being acknowledged as something other than trashy-redneck-hillbilly-hicks. It’s about people who have been left on the outside looking in. It’s about people who are without and who need to be with.