I cannot write about the election. This hurts. The anger, the grief, the fear all cycle in and around, swirling into each other.

I have privilege. I can pass for whatever the reactionaries want me to be: a late-middle aged white suburban stay at home mother and wife. My friends and part of my family are not so fortunate. I fear for them.

There are family members whom I am avoiding because I am pretty sure they voted for Trump. There is a coworker whom I refuse to discuss politics with because he told me he voted for Jill Stein.

I hate this. I hate feeling so… divided.

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