Grief by Sue Robin

I am grieving for the ethos of our country. Trump’s reelection has sent me, and many who I love, spiraling into grief. Some are angry and outraged; some deny this will change our country much at all, and some of us weep for what we believe will be a major shift or possible loss of our democracy. We are all flailing around looking for a way to be present and find meaning in what we do next.

While the word revolution has come up, I pray that people see that as a challenge not for physical war, but a reconsideration of how we speak to one another, how we convey our values, and how we respond to the gloaters out there. Creative interactions are what we must aim for.

I passed a small theatre that gives acting classes and thought maybe I should take the class so I could act as though everything was okay. Joking aside, any activity that moves us out of our usual routine will help us create a new way forward.

In the locker room at the gym yesterday, a thirty-something Black woman with a grin on her face asked if anyone else was as happy as she with the election results. I gave her my best “Are you sh?ting me” look.

Then another woman, originally from Iran, spoke up and said she, too, was thrilled with the results and thinks the country will be better under Trump. The only response I could muster was, “I don’t share your view, but let’s talk again in four years.” Though I am not sure we’ll have to wait four years: I heard a small company in a red county in Pennsylvania has just informed their employees that there would be no Christmas bonuses— the employer needs to make a large purchase of parts in advance of the tariffs expected under Trump.

On my way home from the gym I passed the corner of Coldwater Canyon and Ventura Blvd, the main drag in Studio City, California. There was a large folding table piled high with Trump t-shirts and memorabilia, including a large flag with an AK-47 emblazoned on it and the words “Take That!” There were three young white males making their purchases. I felt as though I had been picked up and dropped in some strange land. Unlike Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz though, my journey hadn’t taken me to somewhere more beautiful.

All over the globe people are sharing our pain. Our neighbor is from Britain, and he offered us his condolences. My dear friend Lisa lives in France now and says the folks at their local market asked what happened to America? My sister has a close friend in New Zealand and she, too, cannot believe what is happening in this country. My friend Chris has a friend in Japan who also sent condolences.

If Trump does, indeed, follow through on his promises made, promises kept, we will be in for a chaotic four years (possibly we can limit it to two if we can retake the House in two years). There will not be a check on him as in his last term. On the other hand, his appointees will be very good at saying, “Yes, sir.”

On January 20^th the round-up of undocumented people will begin. My fears are huge as I do not know how or if the people doing the rounding up will distinguish between undocumented workers and US citizens who happen to be brown-skinned.

Project 2025 is a nightmare. The premise that this will become a Christian country is nauseating to me. I grew up in the shadow of WWII and all the horrors of the Nazi Regime. One of the things I heard repeatedly as a child was that it can’t happen here, and that the USA was created with freedom of religion and speech as its bellweather. The doctrine of separation of church and state always helped me to feel that I belonged. Without that I would feel at best marginalized and at worst fearful for more violence against Jews. Already this past week in the Robertson area (an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood in Los Angeles) the windows of several store fronts owned by Jews were destroyed. Not the first time, just the most recent time.

As we continue to sift through the information and changes that are coming and learn to cope and respond, we will also be moving between all the stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. There is no order to the stages, as anyone who has lost a loved one can attest. They flit in and out with brief moments that approximate ordinary life in between.

I hope that we and our country can survive this loss and what is coming with grace and dignity. I hope that acceptance will come not by bowing to DJT’s plans, but in acceptance of our roles as creators and change agents to help bring our nation into a future built on kindness and love. Love still makes the world go round.