(Content Warning for: discussions of bigotry, hatred and discrimination towards minority groups, both in our current era and historically, and the impact of politics)
My dear readers,
I must ask you to forgive me on two counts - the fact that I've missed two weeks of this series (due to a combination of ill health and a lot of work), and the fact that this week's update is a day late - but I'm still calling it #WordyandWheelyWednesdays since, well, it's about Wednesday.
Actually, I'm not going to apologise for its lateness, because a) it was my Mama's birthday and b) I needed to take some time to process what happened in global politics. As of yesterday, on the strength of a campaign that seemed more like a reality TV show than a bid for political office, Donald Trump is now the forty-fifth President Elect of America. Being a young bisexual woman and a wheelchair user, the fact that I just had to type that sentence terrifies me. I wept in the shower yesterday morning, despite trying desperately hard not to on account of Mama's birthday.
Why? You might ask. You're British and you live in the UK. Yes, so I didn't have a vote (and arguably anything that he enacts during his - hopefully only four-year - term won't have a direct effect on me), but that doesn't preclude me having concerns.
I'm worried about my friends in America.
I'm worried for the couples who might lose their right to marry, as quickly as they (only recently) won it.
I'm worried for the women, female-identifying and non-binary people who might lose their right to safe bodily autonomy through access to legally-available contraceptives and terminations.
I'm worried about the impact of the campaign's overtones of rape culture.
I'm worried for the people who may feel too unsafe to practise their religion(s), for fear of reprisal.
I'm worried for the people who might lose the access to health insurance that they were granted through the Affordable Care Act (otherwise known as ObamaCare) - especially those with pre-existing conditions deemed uninsurable by most companies.
I'm worried that, in the UK, our goverment chose this week (probably liking the cover of the US election) to announce changes to caps in the benefit system that will have a disproportionate effect on families and disabled people.
I'm worried that our Prime Minister did not mention or caution against any of the potential human rights issues of this presidency in her statement congratulating Trump.
I'm worried that people will consider this election as a justification for all kinds of hatred - racism, Islamaphobia, anti-Semitism, misogyny, homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, ableism, and every other sort of bigotry they could possibly invent.
I'm worried because the only other reference point I have for the scenes the media have captured at Trump's rallies are from the clips we watched in history lessons on Hitler - and from there, along with the more obvious minority groups, disabled people like me were forced to wear black triangles, rounded up for the purposes of medical experimentation and then killed in concentration camps (if, of course, we didn't die during the experiments).
I'm worried that it could happen again.
Perhaps that last point seems a little drastic or farfetched to you. We've learnt many things since then! you might say - and largely I would agree with the sentiment. People in the 1930s thought Hitler's ambitions were drastic and farfetched, though - and, in 1948, the same year as the United Nations was formed with the aim of preventing similar atrocities, the Apartheid regime took power in South Africa.
That isn't to say I think it will happen again - the fact that the popular vote went to Hillary Clinton and that there has been such sadness and outrage at the result both in America and across the world shows that there are enough people and organisations who will work against the despicable rhetoric. Of course Clinton is far from perfect, especially in relation to foreign policy and military strategy - and the whole neoliberal project falls way short of being truly inclusive and intersectional.
Yet this is where we (those of us in this world who believe in equality and equity) come in - and this is where I moved from worry to wakefulness. This election, particularly in combination with Brexit, has understandably filled many of us with difficult feelings that it is important to acknowledge - but it can also be taken as a reminder that reform is deeply necessary. If we can harness the surge of emotion and turn it into something useful instead of despairing, we can and will make change.
A dear friend was recently in Brussels and sent me a photograph of a T-shirt she spotted in a shop window. The picture is a bit obscured due to the reflection, so I will include it below anyway, but also provide a description. It is red and has a drawing on it of a beautiful black woman with an afro - and underneath a quotation from the black activist Angela Y Davis: 'I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept…'
I think we can all learn a lot from this philosophy. It is essentially at the heart of my thesis, but it is all very well writing about things in theory. The USA and the UK are both democracies so we cannot necessarily change the way that the recent votes have fallen, but it does not mean that we have to accept the language and atmosphere of bigotry and intolerance. Therefore we must act, in ways seemingly small as well as big, because if we do not it is tantamount to approbation of this negativity - which is almost worse.
So, in the spirit of salvaging something from the sewerage of 2016, I am grateful that I have family, friends and colleagues who I know will read this ramble and join with me to do things differently, not just in relation to our research, but in real terms. Anger and optimism could be a powerful combination - let's try it out!
For now, I love you all. Thank you for being in my life.
I must ask you to forgive me on two counts - the fact that I've missed two weeks of this series (due to a combination of ill health and a lot of work), and the fact that this week's update is a day late - but I'm still calling it #WordyandWheelyWednesdays since, well, it's about Wednesday.
Actually, I'm not going to apologise for its lateness, because a) it was my Mama's birthday and b) I needed to take some time to process what happened in global politics. As of yesterday, on the strength of a campaign that seemed more like a reality TV show than a bid for political office, Donald Trump is now the forty-fifth President Elect of America. Being a young bisexual woman and a wheelchair user, the fact that I just had to type that sentence terrifies me. I wept in the shower yesterday morning, despite trying desperately hard not to on account of Mama's birthday.
Why? You might ask. You're British and you live in the UK. Yes, so I didn't have a vote (and arguably anything that he enacts during his - hopefully only four-year - term won't have a direct effect on me), but that doesn't preclude me having concerns.
I'm worried about my friends in America.
I'm worried for the couples who might lose their right to marry, as quickly as they (only recently) won it.
I'm worried for the women, female-identifying and non-binary people who might lose their right to safe bodily autonomy through access to legally-available contraceptives and terminations.
I'm worried about the impact of the campaign's overtones of rape culture.
I'm worried for the people who may feel too unsafe to practise their religion(s), for fear of reprisal.
I'm worried for the people who might lose the access to health insurance that they were granted through the Affordable Care Act (otherwise known as ObamaCare) - especially those with pre-existing conditions deemed uninsurable by most companies.
I'm worried that, in the UK, our goverment chose this week (probably liking the cover of the US election) to announce changes to caps in the benefit system that will have a disproportionate effect on families and disabled people.
I'm worried that our Prime Minister did not mention or caution against any of the potential human rights issues of this presidency in her statement congratulating Trump.
I'm worried that people will consider this election as a justification for all kinds of hatred - racism, Islamaphobia, anti-Semitism, misogyny, homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, ableism, and every other sort of bigotry they could possibly invent.
I'm worried because the only other reference point I have for the scenes the media have captured at Trump's rallies are from the clips we watched in history lessons on Hitler - and from there, along with the more obvious minority groups, disabled people like me were forced to wear black triangles, rounded up for the purposes of medical experimentation and then killed in concentration camps (if, of course, we didn't die during the experiments).
I'm worried that it could happen again.
Perhaps that last point seems a little drastic or farfetched to you. We've learnt many things since then! you might say - and largely I would agree with the sentiment. People in the 1930s thought Hitler's ambitions were drastic and farfetched, though - and, in 1948, the same year as the United Nations was formed with the aim of preventing similar atrocities, the Apartheid regime took power in South Africa.
That isn't to say I think it will happen again - the fact that the popular vote went to Hillary Clinton and that there has been such sadness and outrage at the result both in America and across the world shows that there are enough people and organisations who will work against the despicable rhetoric. Of course Clinton is far from perfect, especially in relation to foreign policy and military strategy - and the whole neoliberal project falls way short of being truly inclusive and intersectional.
Yet this is where we (those of us in this world who believe in equality and equity) come in - and this is where I moved from worry to wakefulness. This election, particularly in combination with Brexit, has understandably filled many of us with difficult feelings that it is important to acknowledge - but it can also be taken as a reminder that reform is deeply necessary. If we can harness the surge of emotion and turn it into something useful instead of despairing, we can and will make change.
A dear friend was recently in Brussels and sent me a photograph of a T-shirt she spotted in a shop window. The picture is a bit obscured due to the reflection, so I will include it below anyway, but also provide a description. It is red and has a drawing on it of a beautiful black woman with an afro - and underneath a quotation from the black activist Angela Y Davis: 'I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept…'
I think we can all learn a lot from this philosophy. It is essentially at the heart of my thesis, but it is all very well writing about things in theory. The USA and the UK are both democracies so we cannot necessarily change the way that the recent votes have fallen, but it does not mean that we have to accept the language and atmosphere of bigotry and intolerance. Therefore we must act, in ways seemingly small as well as big, because if we do not it is tantamount to approbation of this negativity - which is almost worse.
So, in the spirit of salvaging something from the sewerage of 2016, I am grateful that I have family, friends and colleagues who I know will read this ramble and join with me to do things differently, not just in relation to our research, but in real terms. Anger and optimism could be a powerful combination - let's try it out!
For now, I love you all. Thank you for being in my life.
No words - just a great big hug!
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