Claps and Cheers: To You, you artist, you.

by Ramona Pilar

In the first few dizzying days following the most recent presidential election and circus-level campaign season, I observed an array of reactions and emotions. I was not a Trump supporter and do not know of any close family members who were. I did not see pro-Trump propaganda in my newsfeed unless it was part of a satirical or critical news piece.

I was stunned at his winning the election, but not shocked. It is stunning that the country that I was born into would rather have a fratboy running the government and managing their future, but not surprising. Stunning in the way you can see a car crash happening in slow motion right before your car hits another, and you break, and airbags deploy, and you’re sitting with your mouth full of powder trying to determine if it’s one of those anxiety dreams or if the car accident you’ve been lucky enough to avoid for most of your adult life has finally happened.

I was stunned to see the profound misogyny, racism, classism, and xenophobia of this country become prevalent enough for those long unaffected by it to finally see it, to begin discussing it.

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