Sorry Mrs. Parker, You Were Wrong

P.S. one hour after initial post: Please note, I posted this to Twitter remotely. I have not signed in to Twitter in a month — so, I have not seen my feed, seen any private or direct messages, seen anything at all — so, if you wrote me there, I am NOT ignoring you — I just haven’t the courage or spine or whatever to face it right now. Some of you have my phone digits, my email and messaging is available here. Still love you. Just, I am not me right now and I am better off not engaging too much.

The only reason I am alive is because it would kill my mother and sister were I to die.

Functioning has become a real struggle. I keep thinking I am going to wake up from this horrifying nightmare in which it was made clear to me I am not welcome in this world. I keep hoping I will wake and be told that the election results are invalid; that the combination of media ignorance and false equivalencies, FBI interference, Republican dirty dealing, and Russian hacking requires we all vote again.

This can’t be life. After all the decades of fighting and struggle, this country cannot have elected to power and validated those representing xenophobia, misogyny, sexual predatory behavior, homophobia, bigotry, racism, transphobia, discrimination against everyone but white faux-christians, disinclusivity, and hatefulness.


If you voted for them — nay, even if, knowing what they stood for (and it was up to you TO KNOW that, ignorance is no excuse) you did NOT vote for Hillary Clinton, I don’t want you in my life AT ALL. Stranger, acquaintance, relative, stalker, troll — I am done with all of you who contributed to this disaster and tragedy.

You are my oppressor. You have — on some level — chosen to hate and discriminate against me. You are no longer welcome in my life.

I do not forgive you.

Now, I realize you don’t want my forgiveness. Which is fine. Why would I want in my life someone who has chosen to hate me, to disinclude me from basic equality, to support a person who fueled a campaign and a following on hate of “others”? Please, yes, ignore and dismiss me, be gone. You have already chosen not to love or support me by your actions or inaction, so, this is just the next logical step.

But, I don’t want to hate, so, I need to hide.

Because I am just not evolved enough to forgive right now. I am not evolved enough to “give it a chance.” It isn’t JUST that they were elected and the damage they might do; not just that such damage will likely not be undone in my lifetime. It isn’t that — it’s that so many people voted for it, chose it, allowed it, encouraged it, and celebrated it.

Because if you contributed to this win by not voting, by voting for them, by voting for a third party, well, you’ve chosen hate over love and I can’t have you in my life.

And, if you’re reading this and saying, “He’s over-reacting,” please keep in mind the following; there’s ALREADY been an increase in hate crimes against LGBTQ and Muslims and people of color just SINCE the election. And if that doesn’t warm your loathsome, wretched, near-dead heart, how about the words from Nazi-sympathizing supporters of the GOP elected jackass who are CELEBRATING that LGBTQ people are in despair, who are even CAMPAIGNING to troll LGBTQ people until they self-harm. CLICK HERE

I hope — if you contributed to Hillary’s loss — you can live with that. And, stay strong hater because here’s more good news for you, I may yet be added to the list of those who off themselves, because, yes, oh hateful one, you’ll no doubt be happy to hear there has been a spike in suicides since the election — and I may well be finally unable to deal with the volume of hate and bigotry and vitriol this election represented. Every day right now is a struggle. You win! Good for you.

Dorothy Parker was wrong … you might as well NOT live.

Congratulation on your accomplishments. You are despicable.

2 thoughts on “Sorry Mrs. Parker, You Were Wrong

  1. I woke thinking of you. I am glad your alive, and I too am alive in part because I have a son I love so much. But I worry more about his dress wearing self than I did a month ago and I worried then.
    So, I need to figure out a way to be.

    • My love to both you and your beautiful son; as I said to a devastated 19 year old who called me in weeping panic election night (and I was little help, I am afraid, but I tried): “My generation has failed you; I marched, I fought, I got called faggot and got beaten up and I stood up and I tried and now this, and baby, it’s up to you now — do better. I’m too tired to fight again.”

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