From Eva Posner at The Moderate Voice:
“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” –Ernest Hemingway
2017 hurt.
It hurt a lot of people in a lot of ways. For most of us, the pain started in 2016. Many people sang the praises of 2017 as the new year, hoping for a reprieve. I was not one of them. All I could think this time last year was, “You guys know it’s just going to get worse, right?”
And it did.
2017 made things worse for families. For children. For seniors. For immigrants. For women. For national parks. For scientists. For government employees. For poor people. For communities of color. For students. For LGBT folks. For patients. For journalists. For religious minorities. For animals. For small business owners. For refugees. For workers. For victims of natural disasters. For members of the military. For small farmers. For criminal justice reformers. For homeless people. I’m sure the list goes on and on.
2017 hurt a lot. But I cannot explain everyone’s pain. Only mine.
2017 made me raw. Made me vulnerable. Made me face demons head-on in a way I did not expect. The disbelief and soul-searching that came out of the 2016 election gave way to genuine and constant discomfort on Inauguration Day.
I watched as a rapist took the oath of office.