I went to bed late last night before 1 a.m., before it was absolutely clear that there was no path to save us from a Trump presidency, though in my heavy heart I knew. Woke this morning at 6:30 to kiss my partner, wish him a safe day. Fell back into the covers and fitful sleep.
So many friends have posted eloquently. Others just don't seem to understand the full gravity of what has been done to this nation. Others, abroad, are saying Wake up to the America we've always known: a sobering poke at our many levels of privilege. Another friend posted, urging us to use our privilege as leverage wherever we can to fight (again, but harder) injustice.
I work in retail. It barely pays the bills. I do not have the privilege of a comfortable income. I spend a large portion of my off hours running Seven Kitchens Press from my dining table, publishing work by a variety of poets, many of them queer. The press budget usually hovers somewhere around a hundred dollars: enough to make and mail out chapbooks at a measured pace--not as quickly as I'd like to, but steadily, steadily, for the past ten years. Effective immediately, I've decided to donate 10% of all chapbook sales to The Trevor Project. It's not much, but I can get by and I urgently feel the need to put some money behind my convictions.
If you are in a position to do the same, please select a worthy cause that reflects your values and support them now. These next four years are going to hurt something awful.