By Noriko Nakada
It’s been three years. We have been living with a white supremacist, rapist, corrupt reality TV star at the head of our government for three long years. What does this do to a woman? A woman of color? An ally? An artist?
We knew he was white supremacist: housing discrimination, condemning the exonerated five, blocking Native American casinos, denying Obama’s citizenship, and over the past three years, he’s confirmed this by building a wall, instituting a travel ban, carrying out thousands of inhumane family separations, denying asylum, and calling white supremacists very good people.
We knew he was a sexual predator before, but his court appointments threatened my reproductive rights, threatened affordable health care, threatened my autonomy.
The gas-lighting continues. The lies and constant barrage of bad news make it hard to breathe because the air is so toxic. It’s hard to keep pushing when the Senate and the Republican Party continue to legitimize unlawful conduct. It’s hard when there are kids in cages and the earth is on fire and our rights are suddenly up for negotiation.
But what other options do we have? Opt out? Leave? Or do we follow the news, keep watching even when it’s hard, and push back with our thoughts, our actions, our words, our money (if we have any after “tax cuts”)?
During the National Book Awards in January of 2017, Colson Whitehead gave this advice: “Be kind, make art, and fight the power.” I repeat this on those toughest days. I remind those struggling around me: we are worthy, we matter, and those most at-risk matter. Our art matters, and hate cannot win.
My kids were in diapers at the start of this presidency, but they have grown up over the past three years. 45 has only grown more vicious and cruel. My youngest only knows a world under this president, and my oldest knows we protest. They also know how to be kind and to make art. They know it’s hard work to fight the power.
It’s been three years, and with hope and more work, next year things will be different. We look toward hope and a future of healing and redemption. We look to make art that restores, and we keep fighting.
Noriko Nakada writes, blogs, tweets, parents, and teaches middle school in Los Angeles. Publications include: Through Eyes Like Mine (2010), Overdue Apologies (2012), and I Tried (2019). Excerpts, essays, and poetry have appeared in Catapult, Meridian, Kartika, Hippocampus, Compose, Linden Avenue and elsewhere.
thanks for writing!