You Are Not Alone

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

In the wake of this election, I, along with so many others have felt waves of anger, despair, and shock. I have felt the ground shift beneath my feet, and as if on Tuesday night as the results of the election rolled in, all of America suddenly entered a parallel universe. This is not the path that we are supposed to be on. And yet, here we are.

I was reminded, too, that these feelings are not uncommon, not, at least, for me this year. Anger, despair, shock — I lived in and with each of these feelings after my daughter was born, and more so, after she died. My worldview was rocked. The door to a life where babies are born healthy, where children live, closed on me. Yet parents pushing their sleeping babies in strollers, new baby announcements, invitations to baby showers, all reminded me that there was another path, where children live, one that I was not on. They haunted me. They made me feel so alone.

And then something else happened. My aunt reached out — a couple at her church had a daughter living with EB. Name the date and they would be in the car, trekking the four and a half hours from the suburbs of Detroit to Chicago to help us prepare to bring Eliana home. After she died, more people came forward. A friend from college, who had lost her son at ten months reached out. A colleague shared that she had lost her son at four months old. A friend’s aunt had lost her son to a genetic disorder at age nineteen. A longtime colleague of Chris’s father, now with grown children, shared that he and his wife had also lost a baby. These stories never stopped coming.

Each of these people slowly brought me out of the shadows. By reaching out, by sharing and not sugar coating, each of these people reminded me that I was not alone.

Those conversations, these honest and raw stories, gave me hope after Eliana died. The truth that I was not alone did not ease my pain, but it helped me to move forward, as so many others had done before me despite the inevitable challenges that life throws at us.

It is the bravery, honesty, and openness of these people that I turn to today. These people give me hope.

Today, this week, and in the coming months, remember that you are not alone. You are not alone in your anger. You are not alone in your fear. You are not alone in your despair. I feel those things too. And so do many others. And, you are not alone in what you believe in, either. You are not alone in your belief in the strength and beauty of diversity. You are not alone in your conviction to be driven by love and openness over fear. I believe those things too. And so do many others.

You are not alone. It may take the bravery and creativity and open hearts of others to remind you.

Like artist Matthew Chavez, who has invited people to reflect on the election results by writing notes on post-its, which he plasters on the wall of a subway tunnel in Manhattan. He only asks that you “express yourself.”

Like author David Treuer who has invited people into conversation and even into his home. His family says a mantra every day before leaving their home, and invites you to repeat it as well: “I am brave. I am smart. I am strong. I am funny. I respect all of Creation. I respect myself. And my job is to help other people.”

Like the faculty, staff and students at my sister’s graduate school who, on Wednesday,  opened their classrooms to spend time simply to talk about the election.

Like the woman who wore a hijab in solidarity with her relatives in Iraq while marching in a Solidarity Walk with others disheartened by the election.

You are not alone.

I know that as I write this it is true that Americans now are increasingly likely to live near people with similar political views. Because of this your family, friends, and neighbors likely share your response to the election. Yet two Americas does not serve us either — insulating ourselves from people who have political, religious or social views different from our own — and the inevitable divisiveness that followed has fueled the rise of this president-elect.

I know, too, that as I write this others around the country have been targeted because of the color of their skin, the language they speak, the god they worship, making them feel isolated and afraid. And, it’s what those who benefit from division want.

Maybe artist Matthew Chavez hit the nail on the head when he talked about our own fears — one that we all may share regardless of political views — our fears from talking to one another. He said: “[E]veryone is in such close proximity to each other in New York. And no one is really talking. I think people are kind of afraid to talk to each other in general, but especially after an election where people were so shocked and they don’t feel safe about the future, and aren’t really sure about the direction of our country? How are you supposed to feel like you are a part of a community in that environment.” (emphasis added). These fears are driven by feeling that those with different views are immoral or bad people.  They are fears of being rejected because of our political views. They are fears of being made to look stupid, or ignorant, or unfeeling. They are fears that drive us to insulate ourselves from others, to close our hearts and minds to compromise, conversation, and compassion for people who are different from us.

For how can we be a part of a community where we fear that we are not valued? In the words of the Dalai Llama and Arthur Brooks, who attributed the populist backlash in prosperous countries like the United States to “[t]he growing number of people who feel they are no longer useful, no longer needed, no longer one with their societies”: “We all need to be needed.” (emphasis added).

These fears are more than theoretical. They have real power. Donald Trump capitalized on these fears and was elected to the presidency.  As journalists Nicholas Confessore and Nick Corasaniti observed, in certain places “fear triumphed” and “many Americans seemed uneasy with the very act of coexistence.” It’s no wonder that his was a message of division — by harnessing the fear of each other (of fellow Americans and fellow humans, of people who look different, worship a different god, speak a different language) Trump invited his followers to build their own figurative walls because, he made the case, they, their values, their livelihoods, and their future, were under attack. Walls that the criticisms and concerns of others could not penetrate.

In response to the election, I too feel the need to turn inward. I feel called to keep my head down, to steel myself for the next four years, to write off the supporters of the president-elect as racist, xenophobic, and sexist, and to hope for a comeuppance. Turning inward may feel safe, affirming, and comforting, but it will only broaden the divide exploited by Trump in the first place.

So I repeat. You are not alone. This message gave me the courage to open myself up to the brokenness of the world again after Eliana died. And, it will, I hope, give you the same — courage to walk forward and to hold your head high.

Personally, I will give myself time and space to heal. To process. I will exchange stories with others about the loss that they feel in the days following this election. And, as I do so, respecting my feelings of loss, anger, and despair, I will begin to rebuild. I will not let my heart be hardened. Rather, in time, I will lay my broken, aching heart open. Open to the beauty and new life that comes after loss.

What do you fear? What makes you feel alone? In the words of the Dalai Llama and Arthur Brooks: “What can I do today to appreciate the gifts that others offer me?”