Two nights ago I headed over to my parents’ house to watch the election results with my mom. I thought we’d have a special mother-daughter bonding moment as we witnessed our first female president accept her office. Well, that sure didn’t turn out as expected.
Prior to election day, we had many conversations in our house that ended with me ranting and my husband (who did not support Trump either) telling me I did not understand Trump’s base. True that.
Denial runs strong in me. Which is why, although I feel sad (more than “my candidate lost” sad, but not quite 9/11/01 sad), there’s a part of me that thinks things can’t get that bad. Can they? The Republican party is still divided and given that Hillary won the popular vote, I can’t imagine respectable Republicans lining up against such a racist, homophobic, misogynistic, lying, climate-change denying* man.
Are we really heading into a period akin to Nazi Germany? That sounds ridiculous**.
But maybe it’s not. His party members are jumping in line to support him.
Tuesday night my Facebook and Twitter streams were filled with parents agonizing over how they were going to break the election news to their kids.
Wednesday brought stories from parents and teachers trying to calm anxious kids who were worried about friends being deported or perhaps being deported themselves, and tales of scared children of LGBTQ parents seeking reassurance that their families will be okay (even as their parents share those same fears).
In the last two days in I’ve heard reports about people being shouted at with racial slurs and women being harassed.
People who rely on Obamacare or, like me, just want to know it’s part of the societal safety net, “just in case,” feeling their blood pressure rise at the uncertainty of the program. We must stay healthy so we can fight for our country.
Lots of people want to fight- fight for what’s right and kind and good.
Wednesday morning one of the first posts I saw was written by one of the Jessies in Pantsuit Nation (I imagine there are probably 100 or more of them) with ideas for taking positive action. Since then I’ve encountered similar posts, so Google around for ideas if you are feeling hopeless. But before I created a personal 100 Days of Action plans or pulled out a safety-pin to wear on my shirt, I saw a post on Facebook about a Random Act of Kindness that I was inspired to replicate.
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Before heading out to parent meeting at school this evening, a friend posted something in a Facebook group indicating that a local school had been tagged with hateful graffiti. Our area is home to people from a wide range of ethnic and religious backgrounds, many of whom are immigrants or first-generation Americans.
It turns out my friend was referring to a national news story, but nevermind that, I’d already hatched my counter-offense. A different friend and I were going to Love Bomb the school and fill the sidewalk near the main entrance with positive messages.
But first, the parent meeting. At the event, we found two more friends who wanted to be a part of the awesome. And then there were four.
We headed to the school and wrote our messages of support. As we finished up, a 5th friend called to inform us that the school would be closed for Veterans Day. Derp! Let’s hope it doesn’t rain over this three-day this weekend.
Anyhoo, feeling emboldened and wanting someone to benefit from our good vibes, we decided to hit up the high school. We knew they had school on Veteran’s Day. We picked up that knowledgeable 5th friend and then grabbed an additional friend on our way to the high school, and not just because we knew she’d have more chalk.
“You know,” said cautioned friend six, “we should really write on the sidewalk across the street from the school. Lots of kids walk those sidewalks. Plus, school security won’t let us write on the property.”
Me, with images of that 102-year-old lady who got faux-arrested because it was on her bucket list dancing in my head, “We’re doing it on school property.” I pronounced. “We’re a car-full of middle-aged women armed only with sidewalk chalk. We’re doing it.”
And so we did.
Until a security guard came out a busted us. “Who are you? Are you teachers?”
“No, we’re the Parent Committee,” we said in a tone that was probably more jovial than the situation called for. Three of the six of us are part of the executive committee of our the school’s parent coalition, though possibly not for much longer now that we’re branded as vandals.
A little back and forth ensued as did some walkie-talkie banter from the guard. I get it, he was doing his job. But the best part was when he asked us to explain what we were doing. We shared our mission and then he reported back into his walkie-talkie. “They were sharing positive messages and support, you know, for the kids, uh, because of the election.”
Book ’em, Dano!
No, not really. The police were not called, though I would not have minded being taken to the station**** for defacing public property by writing and drawing supportive messages written in sidewalk chalk. That would be a chapter in my memoir. Instead, I present you with this blog post.
But wait, there’s more!
With two schools under our collective belt, it was clearly time to hit the local mosque. No brainer, right? This time I was the cautious one. “Maybe we should let the security guard know we’re here, just so nobody gets freaked out.”
But the guard must have been walking the halls. We didn’t see anyone other than some guys playing basketball in the gym and they didn’t seem to care about us lurking butts-up as we bent over to draw on the sidewalk outside.
More chalk graffiti. More love. More support. And, um, a police car that circled, curiously, up and down the street.
And also a police with lights flashing, two blocks down the street. And then more po-po down the street in the other direction. And finally, as we left the mosque, there was a third police car nearby with lights on. (At this point, the color of our skin did not matter, it was pretty dark and we didn’t have any lights shining on us.)
It would not surprise me if the police are on high alert regarding the mosque these days. I hope they are, actually. But we weren’t stopped by the cops. However, as we drove friend six home, we encountered yet another police car. For reasons completely unrelated to our spontaneous mission, the friend who drove chauffeured us around was driving her 90-year-old mother-in-law’s car, so any attempt to trace the vehicle’s license plate would have only added to the WTF-ery of the situation.
Go, my friends! Support those in need, stand up for what is right and spread love. However, if you are going to love bomb a place, maybe check in with someone n charge first.
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* Y’all know these are documented facts and not just accusations, right?
** ironically, when people make pronouncements like, “I will stand with my Muslim, LGBTQ (etc) friends. Know I am here for you.” they tend not to include Jewish people in their sometimes exhaustive lists. Also, as an Asian friend pointed out, even fewer mention that population despite the fact that they are also on the receiving end of racism.
***yes, also white
****yes, more white privilege (also president of the parent group)
Love your eloquent description of our memorable and meaningful night out!
Count me in for the next love bombing!