I had an amazing night before. After weeks of not being home consistently due to work and visiting family, my boyfriend set up a nice evening that began at one of my favorite restaurants, continued dancing at a dope new lounge, and ended at a beautiful setup in one of my favorite LA homes away from home - The Line Hotel. Lavish. As artists, we both like this place as a creative respite from our day to day. He did this just because, with no special occasion on the horizon. But maybe he knew (as he tends to be in tune with my soul) that I needed the extra love and affection to prepare me for the days ahead. I went to bed feeling full, loved, spent. The slow and lazy wakeup that followed the next morning felt deserved, as the gray blanket of sky filled our vision and wrapped me in the warmest, coziest feeling of gratitude and peace. He had to go to work early, so he left me in this hazy revery. After many moments of silence staring into the clouds that leveled Hollywood’s mountains (maybe a metaphor for what this moment in history is all about), I decided to turn on the TV. For a sec, I had forgotten what day it was. On my screen, I saw the Obamas, standing in finery and looking like they’d read the notes and checked in with one another’s hearts for the duty that they were about to perform. I then saw 45 emerge, and that same light that the gray sky cast in the room took on a surreal hue. I thought, he’s really done it - this is really happening. I watched as his wife joined him, sporting one of my favorite colors in a familiar silhouette that I’d never seen on her, and I realized each person was there to assume the position, ready or not. That same sky called me again… suddenly it looked gray, gloomy, confusing, cloudy. But this was not my mood. What was happening had not quite sunk in for me. I was feeling the collective spirit of the nation - so many of us were deeply sad. I can of course go IN on why it was sad for many groups of us. But it actually didn’t feel celebratory on any level - even for those who had always supported him. I would imagine it would be sad to not be able to celebrate someone you believe so strongly in with your fellow neighbor because they feel so disregarded or forgotten; I would imagine it would feel sad to have to hide your joy for fear of offending others. This just didn’t feel like anyone won. The rain was pouring down like the tears of so many. We all needed to grieve.
I turned the television off because…what was I really watching? Who was this? I mean, I’ve always known that power doesn’t lie exclusively with the Oval Office. I’ve never looked to anyone to be my savior. I’ve always sought a collaborator and a representative as the leader of my country - someone who would listen to and work for the issues of the people as a liaison with those who can create and pass legislation, and someone who would be a figurehead in the public eye that represents the values of life and love that I hold so close. I did not find this here; I did not see someone who cares about me on my screen, or anyone encouraging me to feel empowered for the change I could create alongside him. When I turned it back on, Obama was giving a speech at a military academy, doing EXACTLY this. He was repeating to us the same thing he had told us from the moment he began to campaign for the presidency - that the future is in OUR hands, and that change happens with us. He reminded us that this moment, in the overall story of this nation, was “a comma, not a period.”
I appreciated these words, and this reminder, the truth needed to be heard by so many on this day. I let his soothing voice sink in as I stared back at the rain. The one thing I’ve always loved about the rain is the chance for rebirth and renewal. Stepping into a new day clearer, seeing what was uncovered by the storm and learning how to pick up the pieces to build something new. I couldn’t see what was on the other side, but I knew seeds were being watered that day. Families were talking, people were collaborating…and as we would soon see in the most staggering of numbers, women were PREPARING. Our president was most valuable as our visual representation, a symbol of and for us. Regarding policy, there are hundreds of issues the government is not addressing and so many mistakes they are all making. But for many people, minds are managed by our media. So the visible aspect of this job remained important, with the power to draw out the best (or worst) in us. Pictures matter. Words matter. Ideas and beliefs matter. So what is being grown from this storm, what is being birthed from this chaos? This: How glorious to finally recognize on a mass scale that we MUST take that job back. We no longer give that responsibility away, to anyone. We can be the living example of our beliefs, the voice of our stories, and the face of our own multi-dimensional elaborate creation. We are far better qualified. We already live this truth, expressing ourselves on and through social media, but now we can own this task wholly. In our homes, at our jobs, in our communities. We write the story, and we make the history. And there is NO ONE that can take that power. But we also get in formation to confront the men behind the strings, and make moves to hold the reigns, in all aspects of our lives - that is what is now required today. This moment is just another call to Wake Up! The story continues, and no one man can stop the train. We stay woke and keep moving.
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