It’s not quite raining, but the sky is dark and the air is heavy with the dampness that comes right before the clouds open up. It’s not exactly morning anymore, but it’s not quite noon, which absolutely qualifies as far as I’m concerned. Three of the four kids are sleeping, and the only sound I hear is the clicking of my laptop keys. I’m drinking industrial strength coffee – one cup of regular coffee, three shots of espresso. It just felt right today – and I’m eating a snickerdoodle fresh from the oven, made at the extraordinarily talented hands of my 12 year old.
And I’m completely, and profoundly, sad.
I am not watching the inauguration, and I am doing my best to stay away from Facebook, but it’s still out there. It’s still real. It’s still happening, whether I’m okay with it or not.
And I’m sad.
I’m sad for my fellow women, for our immigrants, for people of color, for people of the LGBTQ community, for people who are poor, for people who are differently abled.
I’m sad for the people who have legitimate concerns about the future of their healthcare and of their access to needed medications and procedures.
I’m sad for the people who worry about the future of the legality of their marriage.
I’m sad for the parents who will live in fear of their transgender child not being safe at school.
I’m sad because so many of my fellow Christians seem to have mistaken Mark 12:31 (look it up) to mean: “Love your neighbor as long as he is a conservative Republican like you.” Over this past election season, I have felt many, many things from Trump’s Christian supporters. I have felt disdain, I have felt hate, I have felt mocking. But love? No, love’s not something I’ve felt.
I’m sad because I see gloating. Not humble acceptance, but honest to God gloating, even while people mourn.
I’m sad because your cheers today seek to erase the very real experiences of the people who are genuinely afraid of what this presidency is going to mean for them. People are legitimately afraid, and I can’t help but think if you understood that – if you really, truly let yourself understand it – that you wouldn’t be so quick to celebrate.
I’m sad because today you are celebrating a man who bragged about sexual assault… sexual assault that you so eagerly dismissed as “locker room talk.”
I’m sad because today you are celebrating a man who has spent the last several weeks feeling as though his time would be best spent not graciously accepting his win, or preparing for the very real job ahead, but behaving like a petulant toddler on Twitter.
I’m sad about the hypocrisy it takes to call people whiners and cry-babies for exercising their right to peacefully protest, in essence giving the finger to the very Constitution that you claim to so deeply want to uphold.
I’m sad because people keep wanting to tell me – and people like me – to sit down and shut up. Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Don’t FEEL.
I’m sad because people keep wanting to tell me – and people like me – not to stand with those who are suffering. Not to advocate for the rights of others. Not to peacefully protest that which we do not believe to be right, and true, and good.
I’m sad because the very same people who mightily complained about, mocked, and disparaged President Obama for eight years are now telling us to “accept it.” To be respectful. To support our new president.
I’m sad because people are telling me to deny the sadness. People are telling me to just think positively. To just be kind, to just adjust my attitude, to just love.
But not today. Not when so many are grieving. Not when so many people have actual cause to grieve.
The earth will keep spinning, to be sure (although what that is going to look like for many Americans is very much up for debate), and tomorrow I’m going to get up, and I’m going to put two feet on the floor, and I’m going to go about the business of living my life.
Today, I’m sad.