for the love of God, wake up

signed, a Black woman desperate for November

Hi everyone! I see some new emails signing up, and I want to welcome you to this space formally or welcome you back if you’re returning. Out of pure overwhelm, I haven’t published any posts since the beginning of summer, some of which I’ll communicate in this post. Now, to the frustration…

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I was two years shy of the voting age requirement when Donald Trump entered the White House in 2016. That day felt like an eternity, a sadness shared through the defeated looks from Black students and the high fives and cheers from our white counterparts (even though they couldn’t vote either). We Black students herded around each other, mentally preparing for the most chaotic four years we would experience in our young lives.

Black teens my age were filling out college applications and starting to plan what we desired for our futures, but that year, we experienced a level of grief that I didn’t have the words to explain at the time. Now that I’ve obtained a degree and collected more life experience, I know we got a glimpse of what it meant to be exhausted American citizens.

Blue Monday by painter Annie Lee

I became this painting by Annie Lee in 2016, and my posture hasn’t changed. I grow more tired, irate, and confused each day. I don’t understand why this is such a close election. I don’t know how someone can support Trump and also be an ally for any marginalized group that must fight for their lives if he returns to the White House. On my way home from work, I pass a digital sign that flashes, “Vote for Trump. Life was better under his great policies.” What great policies? What great economy? The next day, the sign reads, “Vote for Trump. Close the border,” as if his lies about immigrants haven’t been debunked several times. How have we all experienced the same four years under his regime and come to such non-congruent results?

The only answer I would have is that our racial experiences are different, but even then, Trump has boasted at his rallies that he’s achieved the vote of the creme de la creme: Black men. He says “Black men” in this clip like a fully realized fetish for Black approval or like a slave owner would look forward to procuring his next investment: his prized Negro. He believes he’s finally succeeded in making Black men forget his claims against the Exonerated Five (children at the time, mind you), his derogatory, racist remarks that threaten Haitian American lives and his aversion to allowing Black people to rent spaces in his buildings. This push for the Black vote is spearheaded by a group of Black men Trump has used for his personal gain much like his ancestors treated Black people before him, yet this group offers their support as penance for their own crimes.

I yearn for an answer to the foolishness that is America. Why can’t a convicted felon vote in an election, yet a convicted felon can run for this office? Why don’t people understand how government works? Trump questions what Harris has done for America as vice president, but why don’t people understand the vice president’s role? I’m not surprised when MAGA supporters have no definitions for the policies or ideals they feel so strongly against because it’s clear they are simply following a person who agrees with their racist bigotry. They finally found someone with the gall to speak his racist ideals aloud, something they could only do in the privacy of their homes for fear of public vitriol. Four more years of Trump means more license for people to express that bigotry, which leads to more Alabama brawls, unlawful police brutality incidents, and Karens attempting to exert their power over innocent people. MAGA supporters jump at the opportunity to express their distaste for any type of equity or common-sense laws, yet more often than not, they’re just as clueless as their leader (see video below).

I know this exhaustion has permeated more minds and bodies than mine. I’m thankful for Substack writers like

Rebecca Stevens Alder

, who has followed Kamala Harris’ journey to the White House and documented the racism and misogynoir that Harris has experienced since announcing her campaign. I’m thankful for

Karen Wesley

who provided words for the exhaustion I’ve lived with since 2016. This exhaustion has transformed into an immediate call to action, a cry for people to wake up.

Another four years of Trump means my nephew will plan his future under a racist administration that doesn’t care about his Blackness. I fear for his upcoming years if Trump is re-elected (or if Vance becomes president). I fear mass shootings at his college because Vance believes school shootings are a “fact of life.” Another four years of Trump means another four years of worried parents who fear sending their children to school and planning their funerals by the end of the school day. Another four years of Trump means women losing their right to reproductive care, or worse, losing their lives like Amber Thurman.

People, wake up because lives are disposable to the Trump campaign, especially Black and Brown ones. For the love of God, open your eyes to the damage this one man creates everywhere he goes. How can you support someone so vile who stands idly by while people die in preventable ways? How can you live in Black skin and vote for someone who wants to eradicate your existence in the country you have every right to dwell in?

I’m anxiously waiting for November for some reprieve from the exhaustion, a final exhale even if the outcome isn’t what I desire. In the words of my Black momma, “We gon’ see what the end’s gon’ be.”

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Thank you for reading. If you disagree with me, don’t leave a comment. I genuinely don’t care to read it. But if you do, check out these other posts from of wisdom and wander:

nearly 25.

sincerely, a prideful creative.

what if creativity was your lover?

Until next time,

Laraya