On Sundays, We Soup or How I am Taking the Election News

My brother wanted to celebrate a milestone birthday with a vacation to Mexico. During election week. I couldn’t really say no as he says yes to almost everything I ask of him. We did the planning together months ago, nearer his actual birthday, which is how we landed on the trip happening the week of the US election. At the onset of summer in Michigan our thoughts were nowhere near the pre-election, rollercoaster, panic state leading up to November 5. In fact, based on prior experience with bitter and exhausting political seasons, the only comment I made, when we realized the timing, was “it probably wouldn’t be awful to have a distraction that week.”

 The five months between the booking and traveling were long and full of changes for my family. Our youngest child started her first year of college out of state and her older brother left for a seven-month study abroad overseas. Both kids leaving, admittedly to start awesome and inspirational new life chapters, abruptly changed how we had lived our daily lives for the past two decades. My mantra became a mumbling version of “things are as they should be” as I breathed in and out trying to practice gratitude. Yet, as ever, life goes on.

Throughout the fall other changes played with our sense of normalcy. Word of friends’ health concerns, new and worsening, left us wondering what to do? One young boy’s mystery hospitalization culminated with a heart transplant. An older, yet not old enough, friend faces the end stages of snowballing cancer. Another sister friend, barely fifty years old and states away, remains in a slow post stroke recovery cycle. The story of my own parents aging was, of course, expected, yet a years long diagnosis journey brought with it an unexpected introduction to the cruelty of the gradual and premature loss of personhood by way of dementia. In this case, it is happening to my sweet, kind mother, as she inhabits what my family and I are learning is called a state of contented apathy, and what we feel is an awful, painful joke, taking executive function away from a woman whose entire identity and self-value revolved largely around being organized and in control. We, like you, are busy grappling with life. All this, in addition to the price of eggs.

So as November kicked off, we found ourselves in Mexico, hiding, for a moment, from reality, perhaps, and hoping to catch a breath. No television, minimal wifi, no email, not even much real conversation to keep the news front and center. I realize this was a first world, band-aid pause, and I contend that it is ok to take a break. In my work in public service and non-profit advocacy I have seen political cycles before. The vacation timing gave me a unique moment to observe circumstances from a different perspective, and in doing so, I was reminded, again, of the importance of the long view.

Three days after the election we took a tour of a Mayan ruin, staged as it would have been 1000 years ago. Our tour guide, Jorge, was an older gentleman who had worked at many ruins in Mexico. He shared his knowledge about this ancient civilization including facts about goods and tariffs, global trade routes, national alliances, and the Spanish conquest (did you realize the Spanish enlisted the Mayans to help conquer the Aztecs?). One thought struck me in the middle of our very warm conversation about thousands of years of power-hungry land deals, caste systems, and people-made environmental crises and that was what a tiny speck 2024 represents on the civilizations timeline. I asked Jorge how he saw the US election impacting his life and he answered that business is business, that governments are just big businesses, and that their leaders are only temporarily in charge of what is basically a web of long-standing systems that may or may not be the best for the planet or its people. I may have embellished Jorge’s answer a bit.  

 Along with many of you, I was completely shocked by the election results in 2016. At the time I was working at an interfaith human rights nonprofit. I remember the numbness with which we walked through those first weeks. I also remember the fervor and urgency thrust on the work that only increased in the following weeks and months. Into the subsequent years I remember the heartbreak and companion incredulity as the hundreds of newly engaged advocates and activists, across the issues, receded into the busyness and demands of their personal lives, even as the challenges continue, as they have throughout history. A situation so predictable aphorisms abound, although I am partial to the quote that preceded every 30-minute video lesson my high school history teacher played on the on the strapped down TV/VCR rolling cart:

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”  

- attributed to Spanish philosopher George Santayana in1905

 In the days after this election, from afar, I witnessed, online and via cell phone, my children and friends struggle as they collectively uncovered more of the ugliness of the world. I heard my daughter and her friends weeping hopeless and desperate tears, distraught that their peers chose to articulate, so openly, what they considered hatred toward women, immigrants, and the LGBTQ community. But away from the newsfeed and the very real shock and depression of my family and friends, I realized that my life experiences since the last Trump presidency had prepared me to not be shocked at the outcome of this election. I am sad, certainly, and there is a very real heaviness at how much more difficult things will seem, but I understand how it has been my privilege that has buffered me from the knowledge that things like racism, sexism, homophobia, and hate/fear-based politics continue to be such enormous driving forces in today’s politics. These oppressive systems impact my life today, as they do all our lives. The primary difference is that these systems impact me (and maybe you) less than they impact more marginalized people.

These systemic problems have been in our institutions, our governments, and our homes, whether we could, or didn’t want to, see them or not. However, once our blinders are pulled back, and we are forced to see the ugly issues for what they are, I believe they cannot be unseen. We could consider this heartbreaking, because it is, but, in a way, it is also liberating. Imagine that darkness - that false, distracting lull, shielding the truth and obscuring the ability to make real change - no longer holding the power to deceive us.

Let us now confront issues like racism and patriarchy in the light, together, as this quote credited to Lilla Watson, an indigenous Australian activist, acknowledges our universal connection:

“If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

These last years I have had the opportunity to learn from many amazing people, in person and online - writers, organizers, artists, and academics – all doing good work. In part, this is how I feed my hope muscle. I am constantly inspired by the people sharing their life lessons so that it may be easier for us to help shoulder the load.  I, also, want to share with you what I know and what I am still learning.

In the following posts I will share some of the sources I reach for in general, and especially in weeks like these, for counsel and inspiration. I will also share some strategies to help learn about major systemic root cause issues that are just underneath the surface of what we see in the news of daily politics. I’ll share some suggestions on how to plug in to both national organizations and some that my Michigan family could consider locally. Additionally, I’d like to point out that any action is better than no action. You do not need to upend your life to commit to making change. Small actions can have big ripples and children are always watching. I was moved by Brene Brown this week when she wrote,

“The research shows that hope is a powerful antidote to despair. What’s interesting, however, is that hope is not an emotion (C.R. Snyder). Hope is a cognitive-behavioral process. It is about having a goal, a pathway to achieve that goal, and a sense of agency or ‘I can do this.’”

I’ve found that there is a lot of work that can be done all the way down to your local municipal and school board level. Decisions, hopeful and fear-based, are made by people sitting at those tables. Get yourself to a table. I can tell you from experience there are far too many old, white men there. The movement needs all of us and each of you has something to offer. Imagine if our representative democracy was truly representative. I guaranty that you can make good change happen, event at the smallest local levels, that will impact your community, in your lifetime, regardless of who is holding the highest office.

Community and connection help us feel a sense of belonging, purpose, and support. Get off social media and find a few people to talk to in person. Maybe join an existing group or even start your own. Make a plan, even a small one will work. I am going to offer my home for a series of Sunday night soup dinners for sharing, commiserating, educating, and hope action planning. I am going to call it - On Sundays, We Soup.

In a weird twist, I was given the opportunity, being away from the election, to take a deep breath and reflect on what I’ve learned, and what I think would be most effective for me to focus my limited energy on right now. More than ever, I can relate to the saying that life is a marathon. I’ll add that the work we have in front of us now started well before we were born and will continue long after we are gone, but the words of Maya Angelou are a clarion call:  

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

We are called to do better now. As much as we may be able to point to the long arc of history and contextualize the often painful and brutal present moment, we live here and now, and in this moment, we can do better. I will look to my mentors, and I will make myself available to share what I have learned. I will do the work until I am no longer able, to make the world a better place for all of us. I hope you will too. It will be sad and uncomfortable, but also joyful and amazing, and if you need me, you are welcome to come to soup on Sunday.

 XO -  JP