Screaming at the Supreme Court: A Love Story (Part Five)

            After the conversation with the pro-Franken family, I needed to get away. On the way to finding a spot on the Capitol lawn, we ran into an art project. We were asked to write our thoughts on a popsicle stick (There was some kind of pun involved there, I forget.) to be glued onto a “believe” poster. I wrote “Fuck Al Franken too.” on mine and the young woman whose poster it was frowned at my contribution before placing it on a pile of also-not-fucking-cheerful-enough rape thoughts.

            Even protest art seemed to have betrayed me. It truly felt like there was nowhere to turn, like I would never be a part of anything ever again. This is a normal thing to feel during a panic attack but this was a NATIONAL panic attack, a GLOBAL one, fueled and pushed (I can only see this in retrospect) by all of my enslaved and exploited ancestors and precursors, by ALL of the women (especially the women of color) and girls and femmes and trans people and non-binary folks, all of the non-white non-men who had fought for freedom against colonialism before me. When I’m screaming, I’m screaming for all of us.

            I can see now there were generations, millennia, of pain and fear coming out of me in racked, animal sobs. I honestly didn’t are who saw. I hoped they saw. I hoped that the people around me could hear me but I ‘knew” in the way that a panicky rape survivor knows that no one could hear me, no one could ever hear me again. No matter how disruptive, how livid, how determined, no one in the world would ever be able to hear me.

            Amy’s policy, whenever scared at a protest, is to find a friendly tree, so we did. We sat on the grass and I tried to breathe. I was still starving so she gave me her sandwich. I wondered what she would have to eat and I nagged her about it for the rest of the day.

            I sat in the grass and scream-cried. I asked her if that women from China had really said “me too” to me and Amy said yes, she had. I shriek/bellowed “WHY?” Like a poorly written movie character. WHY does she have to go through this too? WHY do they hate us so much?

            I felt so dissociated and lost that it seemed like we were done with the protest. (Spoiler alert: We were not.) I wondered if we should start making our way to the Hope Diamond, my favorite post-protest reward. Instead, I kept crying, brokenhearted, feral, bereft.

            At a certain point, though, I realized that my crying might be disrupting the MAGA hat couple, who were engaging in performatively “reasonable” conversations with protester after protester. (I try not to hate those who take the Sarah Silverman, let’s-empathize-with-racists tact, but I kind of do hate them. Talk to somebody better!) When the spite started to re-emerge in my heart, I began to feel something like okay.

            Amy and I decided to go back to the protest for fifteen minutes and then call it mischief managed, but then we saw that the whole demonstration was on the move. It was magnificent to see: Mostly women (cis and trans), mostly people of color, mostly clad in black, fists held high. They were marching together for the Capitol steps.

            As Amy and I joined the march, I had an inkling that this was going to be one of the most powerful things I would ever see. I was not wrong.

Screaming at the Supreme Court: A Love Story (Part Four)

            A really cool thing happened and then a really dreadful thing happened. Lots of protesters were sitting and having a rest along the planters that lined the sidewalk across the street from the Supreme Court. Amy and I went over there to relax for a minute and make sure our phones were charged. I opened the foil-wrapped PB& J from my purse and ate it with panic-hunger. We still joined the chants going on across the street. I wondered aloud why we weren’t BLOCKING the street. If this were Philly, we would definitely be blocking the street.

            Sometimes, tourists would come by and talk to us about what was going on. A group of Chinese women stopped to ask me what my “E.R.A. Now” sign meant. One woman in the group, tall and thin and brightly dressed, didn’t have much English at all, but she had two words:

“Me too.”

            Her face was shiny and happy, maybe just excited to have found the right words. A lightning bolt of connection, sadness, and heart from all across the world went through me. We smiled at each other. We had something beautiful and horrible and profound: Me too.

            Not too long after that life-altering exchange, a white, middle-aged, American man with a goatee, walking his bike and wearing yellow bicycle clothes, stopped to greet some friends who were sitting near me. In my freaked-out, hypervigilant state, I overheard what he was saying, and it FUCKING CONCERNED ME.

In an offhanded, chitchatty way, he said this:

“It’s just a shame because you know the ones voting yes today are the same ones who went nuts when Franken…”

“NO. NOT HERE.” I went from peaceful PB&J mode to spitting-nails mad in half a second. “YOU ARE NOT going to talk about that FRANKEN BULLSHIT HERE. NOT. TODAY.”

Like so many “liberal” men, he was super-ready with:

“You shut the fuck up, bitch. I’m just talking to my friends.” He shook his finger at me and said something physically threatening, I wish I could remember what.

“GO. AHEAD.” I said, holding my sign aloft and bracing for impact.

It seems so foolhardy now, but I WAS physically ready to fight him. I wanted him to come at me so I could rip him to FUCKING SHREDS and with him, all of the troll-farm- indoctrinated Bernie Bro rape-apologists I’d been tormented by for the past three years.

It felt like the crowd around him was treating me as a threat, but it’s likely that some of them were trying to protect me. NOT the white woman that the Bicycle Man had stopped to greet though--she stood between us, shielding the man from my attack. A black man with a very gentle manner tried to get between us on the other side. He was trying to help, I think, but I felt boxed-in and snarling. People were filming with their phones—I’m sure I’m on some feeds looking and sounding like a caged beast.

“You need to get some help.” The white lady acting as the patriarchy’s human shield kept telling me.

“You’re crazy,” the bicycle man kept saying.

1.      I am getting help! This protest IS me getting help.

2.      Nothing calms a girl down like some good old-fashioned gaslighting.

The worst part was that I ‘knew” in this moment that I was the threat here, not sleep-rape-joke making Franken (Who, in my fury, I kept calling Frankl. Sorry Viktor Frankl! Love youuuuu!”) not this man gaslighting me and telling me to shut up, not even Kavanaugh. To this little crowd, I was the scariest thing at the Capitol that day. Maybe I’m a little bit okay with that, except:

            “You’re making my daughter cry!” said the woman angrily.

            Her daughter, a curly-haired twelve-something, was indeed sobbing, in the same way my then-littlest nephew sobbed when I ruined the Thanksgiving before last screaming at the adults about Nazis and racism and the homophobic Catholic church and rape culture and Water Protectors and god knows what else. I recognized and empathized with both kids’ fear, but I tried to understand that neither I nor my anger was the problem.

            “YOU’RE making her cry! WHY DON’T YOU STAND UP FOR WOMEN?”

            “You need help,” the woman kept intoning, and I really can’t argue with her there.

            “What if it was HER in that fucking picture? What if it was YOU?” I screamed as I started to walk away.

            Although some people said words of encouragement (“Stay strong, you can do this.”) as I was led (by Amy, thank goodness) away from the scene in shock, I felt like the worst monster ever, like I’d ruined the movement, like I’d set back the Democrats by a million years. I was shattered, and ashamed of myself, but I can also see who did this.

            AL FRANKEN FUCKING DID THIS. He fucked women over in person and then he fucked us over as a party. Liberal men did this, by dismissing the concerns of all non-white non-men as “identity politics” and insisting that “real people” only cared about money.

            While I admit my anger was scary and I’m sad that that little girl cried, I hope she’ll remember my fury on her behalf. I hope, someday, it’ll spark some fury in her. That doesn’t make me not-ashamed, but it does make me a little hopeful.

This Election Year, Leave Your Troll Farm Training Behind

In 2016, Russian Troll Farms helped Americans hone our unfortunate skills of hating women and people of color (and our/their pesky “identity politics”) to undermine our election and support straight white male supremacy on both the right and the left, including efforts to suppress the African American vote overall. (https://www.npr.org/2018/02/22/587921536/how-a-russian-troll-factory-waged-an-aggressive-campaign-to-disrupt-the-u-s-elec) I’ll stop writing about 2016 someday, but not until its influence is over.

Here in 2018, we’re seeing a lot of progress despite the ongoing fascism at the top. We have so many more female candidates, LGBT candidates, and candidates of color to root and cheer and canvass for. But as much as those candidates will have our support, as much as I believe in the Blue Wave and the Rainbow Wave and all of the other against-evil signs that I see in our near future, it saddens and angers me that all of the inspired candidates entering into or persisting in our political sphere will face the misogyny, homophobia, racism, and white male entitlement of Trump’s/Sanders’s/Putin’s well-trained army of commenters.

As Bernie’s adherents turn their Hillary-hatred toward Kamala Harris and Corey Booker, heaping them with comment-contempt and demonizing all Democrats as shills, will that hurt the Blue Wave and end up (maybe unintentionally) supporting Trump’s agenda? Will the Left’s version of white male supremacy end up supporting the Right’s? I hope not. I know the White Male Supremacist Left is louder than it is pervasive (That’s why they don’t get, you know, THE VOTES.) but I still think reclaiming the government in November is going to take extra badass efforts on the part of all intersectional feminists and our allies.

While the misogynist Troll Farm mentality is concentrated in the MAGA/Our Revolution camps, our training in abusive commenting bleeds into everything. Last year when the Al Franken story broke, my misery at being triggered by that gross picture was made worse by the fact that many of the members of the Marching Onward Facebook Group (Which has previously felt like a marvelously comforting group of Hillary supporters to me.) refused to acknowledge Franken’s misconduct, preferring to gaslight, debase, and undermine his victims. I hear that they have since moved on to trashing Kirsten Gillibrand for daring to speak out about Bill Clinton’s abuse of power.

Misogyny, abuse, voter suppression, racism, and cultural gaslighting are not just the product of some right-wing “other”—they are everyone’s problem, everyone’s fault, and EVERYONE’S responsibility to change.

I live in a very liberal neighborhood, but since 2016 I’ve been learning more and more about its general Get Outness. I’ve learned over and over that the label of “liberal” does not translate to “not-misogynist” or “not white supremacist.” But still, it usually seems like things are getting better. As we gear up for the primary election, we are lucky enough to have a choice between two Democrats of color for State Representative; an incumbent guy with lots of charisma and all the best endorsements, and a lady challenger who is very vocal in opposing the NRA but about whom it can be hard to find other information. I’m likely to vote for the incumbent because he seems more vocally supportive of LGBT rights, but I feel protective of the female candidate, for good reason.

The other day, on our neighborhood Facebook group, a neighbor asked a perfectly straightforward question about the female candidate’s endorsements. Her question seemed to trip some sort of Manchurian Candidate wire in many neighbors’’ heads. They saw this innocuous question as a chance to show contempt for the female candidate, dismiss her accomplishments, and denigrate Democrats in general. I just Googled the male candidate to make sure and yep, he’s a Democrat too, but for ladies, it’s for some reason a sin to have the benefit of belonging to a party.  It was a thread of very low-key misogyny, but it let me know that Troll Farm mentality is still in effect, and I pushed back and then turned off notifications.

I’ve been suspicious of calls for civility ever since I realized they most often come from conservative white people, so I won’t ask for civility here. But since I can’t go back in the political TARDIS to 2016 and get my Bernieful neighbors to respect women’s accomplishments and help us save America from Trump, I can ask them for that respect now. Stop erasing women’s accomplishments, and stop pretending that misogyny is anybody’s revolution, that it does anything but support the status quo. For America to prosper, to get all of the freedom and inclusiveness our country is supposed to stand for, you have to stop using the comment section as a way to put women in our place. Nobody signed up for Troll Farm Hate Training, it was forced upon us. It is way past time to let that training go.

Life-Changing Summer, Part Three

I want to note that as I write these cheery posts, the death toll of the summer is sticking with me and I am seriously considering taking anti-depressants for the first time in my life. The best way through still seems to be acknowledging the magic parts, though.

The Room Where it Happens! I was there when Bernie Sanders moved to nominate Hillary Clinton for our FIRST FEMALE MAJOR PARTY NOMINEE! Well, I was outside eating a salad because Amy was having a leg cramp and we couldn’t find a chair inside, but still.

The most moving moment of the convention for me, though, was when the Mothers of the Movement spoke. Their courage puts every single other thing in perspective. To experience the worst loss, the worst injustice, and still have the hope and power to get on stage and fight for change—how do they do it?! The entire convention broke out into a chant of “Black Live Matter.” I couldn’t see the stage from the entrance we were guarding, but I peeked behind the curtain and watched the crowd chant. It was one of the most galvanizing things I’ve experienced. Our country and our party has a long way to go toward being as inclusive, fair, and humane as I’d prefer, but to me that day looked like concrete evidence that progress had been made.

And although, during other parts of the day, I was irritated by the boo-y Bernie delegates, I can’t help but take comfort in the fact that they were chanting for peace, even as we disagreed on the best ways to get peace. When I was fourteen and the first Gulf War started, I ached to have been alive for the peace protests of the Sixties. I’m sure there were protests, but from where I stood it was flags and yellow ribbons as far as the eye could see. I wore a white ribbon for peace and refused to stand for the pledge of allegiance at school, cried when I was called anti-American. My mom was so awesome because she marched through the suburban streets with me, two of my friends, and a boombox playing Beatles songs. My friend Lynn even knocked on a few doors. Now, in 2016, delegates are chanting for peace and I can join a march every day if I wanted to. So much better than my teenage dream of the 60s.

My Brother’s Wedding: I thought it might be sad to go to a wedding with my ex-wife as my plus-one, but this was an unequivocally joyful day, an oasis of beauty and peace that showed me just how far my family has come. Plus, this happened:

The Disarm Hate Rally: It seemed pretty crazy to drive down to D.C. in the middle of a heat wave. It was one. Billion. Degrees. on August 13, but I thought it was important to have a positive catharsis about the truly alarming parts of the summer, so we packed up all of the water and went.

As we walked across the field near the Lincoln Memorial, it felt like crossing the dessert. A few people were standing in front of the stage and many others huddling in cooling tents. A couple of handsome young men came over and gave us Hillary stickers. Code Pink was there being right about gun control and super-bummer-youth-voter-suppression-wrong about the election. (It’s a weird year when I feel at odds with Code Pink.)

It seemed like synchronicity that a group of teenage poets from my neighborhood spoke just after we arrived. The family next to us had rainbow signs quoting The Lorax:

I was given a sign to wear that said this:

And I’m doing my best to believe it.

We met Gays Against Guns and signed a poster to Orlando from the Newtown Alliance. Pro-gun control groups have been such a source of inspiration and strength for me this summer, and I hope to work more closely with them in the coming years.

After wards, we walked to the Lincoln Memorial and the Martin Luther King memorial:

I thought a lot about why these edifices are there. What we are really trying to accomplish as a nation, what America is truly supposed to be—I don’t know. If, as Lin-Manuel Miranda would have us believe, history has its eyes on us, how are we doing?

Pokémon Go: It saved my life. No really. At the beginning of the summer, I was afraid to cross the street. The world was full of bloodthirsty cars and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get back to my usual taking-long-walks self. But then the Pokéstops went in and I forgot to be scared. Since the day I was hit by a car, people have not-so-helpfully reminded me to be careful crossing the street, but I had more than enough (maybe way too much) vigilance in my life BEFORE the accident—I wasn’t interested in forming new fear-patterns in my brain. Collecting Pokémons tricked the fear into not becoming permanent, and it got me moving again. Plus, there are few things more happy-making than strolling down to the neighborhood gym and chitchatting with strangers about really ridiculous things. The perfect counterpoint to a way-too serious life.

Now the air smells like turning leaves and the morning glories are blooming. I can feel my body relaxing into fall, ready for kids and mums and art projects and WINNING THE DAMN ELECTION already. Thanks, life-changing summer—I hope to keep planting those seeds.

Things That Made 2016 a Life-Changing Summer: Part Two

The Fourth of July! I didn’t get to do much in June, and with the broken-arm grief it sometimes felt like all was lost, but when we drove up to my sister’s for Independence Day, summer started to light up the way it’s supposed to. Watching the Oswego parade with my sister and niece and nephews gave me such a feeling of childhood joy combined with grown-up patriotism and progress—the parade even included a giant rainbow flag and ladies dressed as suffragettes!

In between fireworks, (both the mom-lit and city-provided varieties) swimming, and red-white- and-blue “Patriotic!” cookies, my nephews asked a million political questions and I showed them how to use the candidates’ issues pages so they could learn all the points themselves. Holden really hates fracking and Kieran told me that whenever he has a substitute teacher, the class asks who he or she is voting for. My niece is the youngest person in her school’s Acceptance Coalition, so they give me more hope for the future than anything else.

Helping Open the Neighborhood’s PA Democrats’ Office! This is where I felt the most at home this summer. Whether I was calling to ask people to volunteer, making art to hang on the walls, or hearing the entire headquarters sing “Happy Birthday” to Amy, I felt a sense of love, inclusion, and purpose—I felt most welcome to be myself. There are only (thank goodness!) 71 days to go ‘til election day, but I’m hoping to serve Planned Parenthood in some way after this, so hopefully the love will keep inspiring me.

The Filibuster and Sit-In! After Orlando, it was hard to deal with the fact that friends and family didn’t always see the personal nature of the tragedy, the implications of such a large-scale massacre of LGBT people. When Chris Murphy, John Lewis, and Nancy Pelosi lead our lawmakers to really take a stand for gun control, it felt like such a relief, like oh, thank goodness, someone sees us. After decades of being ignored and/or vilified by my own government,  I’m grateful that public opinion and grassroots activism has given Washington the push and the permission to take a stand for LGBT people in so many ways, even if there’s still a long way to go. Also, sending thank-you tweets to the sit-inners and tweeting vigil pictures at Paul Ryan was pretty fun.

My West Wing Rewatch and Hamilton Obsession! Though I certainly favor either/or thinking that leans fully to the left, the West Wing has helped me to understand progress as a long game, and one that is peopled by public servants who, as Brené Brown would say, are doing the best they can. As much as I am a raging partisan, it heled me to see that even when Paul Ryan is forgetting what the fuck a gavel is for, is probably doing what he thinks is best for the public good. It feels healthier to me to believe that everyone, especially on the blue team, is really fighting hard to do the most possible good. I get that the West Wing is fiction, but it’s just such great counterpoint to my depression-brain.

Hamilton, besides providing the “How lucky we are to be alive right now!” of it all, (And another awesome way to bond with the niece and nephews!) helped me to understand why we HAVE partisan politics, why conflict and vehement disagreement are as much part of our values and freedom and inclusion are/should be.

I feel extremely dorky and sometimes freakish for believing in these things, but it’s just a nice way to see the world. If I didn’t believe that I could be a genuine part of progress, I don’t know how I’d ever get out from under the injustices I’ve seen.

Help Register Voters! And Other Democrat Fun

Good morning loves! I'm excited to join in the post-convention Dem fun. If you're not from Northwest Philly, you can go to https://www.hillaryclinton.com/events/, type in your zip code, and find an event near you. It's fun and easy and you'll meet lots of adorable people who want to make the world more awesome.

For local pals, I'll be posting my organizer's weekly updates here so you'll always know what we're working on. Her name's Kimberly and you can join her list at kfitch@pavictory2016.org

"Hello Volunteers!

I hope that everyone enjoyed watching the Democratic National Convention last week, and that it gave you more hope than you felt after watching the GOP Convention, which left many of us feeling uneasy and aghast. Things are looking up for us in this election nationally, but we still need to work hard for every vote in Philadelphia to help to balance out the rest of this state. We would absolutely love to send a message that there is no place for Trump in this country, including Pennsylvania!

Here is a list of activities which we need help with this week. Please let me know if you are interested and available. If it is your first time volunteering, please feel free to signup for a shift via email, or give me a call with your questions: 541-301-3805. Thank you!

Phone Banking:

We are working hard to reach as many people as we can through phone calls this week, riding on the wave of excitement lasting from the DNC. If you are phone banking from home, please try to raise your numbers. We should be making a minimum of 50 calls at one time. When making 50 calls, you are likely only going to reach around 10-15 people, and out of those, only 1-2 people will actually come through as volunteers. You can save time by not leaving voicemails, but I will leave that up to you individually.

Stronger Together Phonebank:

Wednesday, August 3rd, 5:00 PM - 9:00 PM

NW Philly Office, 7133 Germantown Ave

Philadelphia, PA 19119

Make calls as a group in the office. Bring your laptop to streamline the data entry process, or call from the sheets we have prepared using your cell phones (We expect to receive burner phones any day now, but can't guarantee them tomorrow). Use the slogan "Stronger Together" in your script to emphasize how we need to come together as a country to face the issues head-on without fear-mongering and hate. You may also participate in this event from home - just let me know! 

Weekend of Action! 

We are going to have a big weekend of Voter Registration Events. There are two types of events this weekend - seated at a location, canvassing, or standing at a stationary, high traffic area. 

Saturday, August 6, 9:00 AM - 9:00 PM

Sunday, August 6, 9:00 AM - 9:00 PM

Sign up for a 3 hour shift on Saturday or Sunday. Shifts begin at 9:00 AM, 12:00 PM, 3:00 PM and 9:00 PM.

Canvassing:

Door-to-Door canvassing with VR forms. Our data team is putting together a list of areas with the highest population/lowest registration ratio. Bring a friend or find a teammate in the office to set out with.

Stationary:

Find a spot of your choosing or take a walk on a high traffic street with your clipboard and talk to everyone who you pass by. This is a very fun way to engage with the community and talk to those who you might not otherwise approach. Register those who need to sign up to vote, and remind passersby about the important election coming up.

Seated Event:

Voter Registration at Parkway Central Library

1901 Vine St, Philadelphia, PA 19103

Saturday, August 6, 10:00 AM - 4:00 PM

Sunday, August 7, 1:30 PM - 4:30 PM

Sign up for any 2 hour shift to help us register voters in the lobby of Parkway Central.

Office Shifts:

You may sign up for any one or multiple two hour shifts in the office during these hours. There is always something you can help with - bring your phone and laptop if you have one to help with phone calls and data entry during any down time.

Monday - Friday, 10:00 AM - 8:00 PM

Saturday, 10:00 AM - 6:00 PM

Sunday, 1:00 PM to 8:00 PM

Be in touch and have a wonderful week. I would love to see you all!!"

Upset by the RNC? Here's How You Can Help.

I haven't followed the RNC much, but I know enough to feel the mob mentality and white supremacy bearing down on us. It's easy to feel helpless in the face of bullying evil, but it's even easier to do something. If you aren't in Philly, go to https://www.hillaryclinton.com/events/ and type in your zip code.

If you are in Philly, here's a nice note from our local organizer. You can reach her at kfitch@pavictory2016.org

"Hello Faithful Volunteers!

I wanted to let you know about several upcoming events where we need help. I have three voter registration events taking place out in the community this weekend. After the weekend and during the convention, we want our office to be full of action. We are scheduling 3-hour shifts where volunteers can help out at the office here in Mt Airy, learn how to do voter registration, and then go out and get forms filled out to bring back in! There are also some open shifts for helping out as a greeter (checking credentials and guiding guests) at the convention if you are interested. Please see below for all details!

Voter Registration Events:

Saturday, July 23, 2016

9:00 AM - 1:00 PM

ACME, 7010 Germantown Ave (Inside)

Need 1-2 volunteers for 11am-1pm shift

11:00 AM - 3:00 PM

Parkway Central Library, 1901 Vine St

2 volunteers needed for both shifts, 11am - 1pm, 1pm - 3pm

Sunday, July 24, 2016

1:30 - 4:30 PM

Parkway Central Library, 1901 Vine St

1-2 volunteers needed for all or part of event

Office Shifts:

7133 Germantown Ave

Monday, July 25 - Thursday, July 29

Four 3-hour shifts available each day at the following times:

9:00 AM - 12:00 PM

12:00 PM - 3:00 PM

3:00 PM - 6:00 PM

6:00 PM - 9:00 PM

*You are more than welcome, even encouraged, to sign up for multiple shifts!

DNC Access Events:

Wells Fargo Center

3601 S Broad St

Monday, July 25 - Thursday, July 29

Two 4-hour shifts available each day at the following times:

3:00 PM - 7:00 PM

7:00 PM - 11:00 PM

Please let me know how you would like to participate! Also, keep me informed if you would like to get set-up for phone banking at home, if we have not already been in touch. 

Thank you!!"

AND!

Ten Things I’m Grateful for After a Broken Month

A month ago this minute, a nice ordinary day turned into a nightmare when I got hit by a car in the crosswalk. It’s been a hard hard month, but if I didn’t have such a lucky life, it would have been a lot harder.

1.     I’m grateful that I have family and friends to take care of me when I need it, particularly my best friend/ex-wife without whom I’m be sniveling and starving under a pile of dirty dishes.

2.      I’m grateful that I work in a neighborhood where people stop to help if they see you get hurt. I’m particularly grateful to the two Muslim men who called 911 and stayed with me until friends came, but also the friend-of-a-friend who went to get me water and ice, for my work friends who stayed with me until the ambulance came, and for the driver who stopped after he hit me.

3.      I’m grateful that I live in a beautiful neighborhood full of flowers and lightning bugs, where there are yard sales and art sales and neighbors who surprise me with chocolate bars and lavender poundcake, where I can sit outside reading or writing every morning until it gets too hot.

4.      I’m grateful for Orange Is the New Black giving me a chance to scream-sob about all of the things.

5.      I’m grateful for my rewatch of The West Wing and I’m grateful that my outlook is more The West Wing than House of Cards so that I could take to heart the shows of support from Democratic leaders (particularly John Lewis) in the horrible wake of Orlando.

6.      OH MY GOD I am grateful for Obamacare, without which a physical nightmare would have been (more of) a financial one as well.

7.      I’m grateful for my very loving cats. Sally always sits next to me and Frannie always sleeps by my face, assuring me I’m loved and safe.

8.      I’m grateful for my #365RainbowDays and for the fact that I’m well-versed in positive psychology, because I’ll need a lot of intentional joy to circumvent the depression and fear vying for attention in my brain.

9.      I’m grateful to the LGBTQ+ community both here and online—thank you for caring so much, fighting so hard, and being so beautiful.

10.  I’m grateful that I didn’t miss a day of tutoring yet, and that my other two jobs are as friendly and flexible as can be. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to lift textbooks again, but I’ll be so excited when that day comes.