We fought against a colonizing tyranny and won. We abolished slavery. We won workers and union rights. We secured our food system. We enshrined peoples’ right to public land and protected the environment. We achieved women’s rights and civil rights. We did so much more.
Day after day we showed up, we learned, we achieved, and we came around to seeing the world with new understanding. We grew stronger through it all.
And suddenly, through a movement attached to one cruel and ridiculous man, all that enlightenment stopped. It was labeled worthless, and much of our work was undone. Quickly, we were knocked back to places in our American lives that seemed long behind us. Somehow at the same time, our reality warped into a dystopia only possible in this modern moment.
Unfathomable as this scenario seemed when we were riding high on the crest of achievement, it is now our reality.
Where did our precious America go? The one who shone so bright and strutted her stuff for the world to see. The one we were delighted to see excel, set benchmarks, and create masterpieces of kindness and equality. She was magnificent to watch as she smashed norms the old, stodgy world powers set long ago.
We were a part of her seemingly unstoppable momentum. We shone in her brilliance.
Though we cling to her memory, I think we know we’ve lost that version of our country. She has been replaced with something dim and slow. Something cruel and hateful. Something that we can tell—especially as we head into these midterms—is sadly uninspiring.
When I watch the plentiful debates and protests that fill our lives and airwaves now, I see a new breed of American passion on display. It’s steeped in despair and stunted by the slowing effects of disbelief. Is this really happening? Is this really where we are?
We’re a melange of an electorate that is somewhere in the middle of the five stages of grief, and in this tragic moment, we are paralyzed.
As we absorb our abrupt loss, we are assaulted time and time again with brutal language, outright theft, and physical violence. Wave after wave. The corporate goons and corrupt politicians who stole our country leave us no time to process the ongoing abuse, and the impact of it all is dizzying. It’s devastating.
Our treasured America, swallowed by the Red Sea.
But even in these dark days, we have something that I have to believe will carry us through: we have her memory. She is a part of every one of us, begging to be carried onward. With her guiding presence, with her voice leading us forward, we can find a new, uniquely wonderful future.
The East Wing is gone, and it’s not coming back. But we don’t have to permit a ballroom in its place.
As we inch into acceptance, acknowledging that we have lost something irreplaceable, we can carry our beloved America’s legacy forward with new life. Not grasping to what we wish were still here, but building anew. We carry her onward by remembering and cherishing the best of her. We say her name.
America.
What a wonderful sound it makes.
Our next chapter is born out of that aching loss. Our country springs up as students show up and speak out at city council meetings, or walk miles to their nearest polling place. It breaks through with the sound of applause that meets citizens leaving early voting stations. It burgeons where communities unite to save public lands from destruction or to support and protect immigrants.
We can feel it growing as citizens meet, sing, recreate, and unite in the name of democracy.
We haven’t quite seen this before, and it’s beautiful too.
We feel the loss of our America. We carry her with us in every step. Let’s build something she’d be proud of and tear down the rest.
Walking into the midterms could feel like a sludge, a futile exercise in trying to regain what can never be replaced. Like a chore of rewriting a diligently crafted thesis that was lost in a computer glitch. But that’s never been our America’s way.
Our America is fervor and excitement. She’s full of brewing ideas and daring risks. She’s surprisingly light and welcoming as she holds her firm lines. And she’s never counted out.
She’s in all of us. She’s the best of us. And though she’s not here in the same way she once was, her presence will live on in every next step we take.
I hope yours are going to the polls.
With love and hope for the future,
Stephanie
Thank you for spending your time here with me. Let’s keep having meaningful conversations and let them lead us to new ideas and purposeful action. Subscribe to stay in the loop and support my writing.
How are you viewing our upcoming election?
In what ways, if any, are you grieving the loss of an America you knew?
I have voted early. I have done poll greeting twice. There is hope for me in the number of Democrats who came to vote early. I’m 94, but working on doing my part! Thanks for the inspiration!
Exactly!