#WokeBitxh

On a cold and cloudy Saturday in January, I woke up with the anticipation of a historic day. I put my rain proof outfit on and walked briskly to BART. As I approached the platform I saw two girls wearing glittery tiaras that said "#WOKEBITCH" and immediately I knew I was in good company. A few other people had posters, pink pussy hats, "The Future is Female" t-shirts and all kinds of resistance paraphernalia. We were on our way to the Women's March in Oakland. The energy of my fellow travelers was almost tangible. Seeing the BART fill up with all types of people united with the same purpose gave me a rush. The numbness of watching Trump take his oath was warming into activism. Tens of thousands of people were side by side with me in Oakland and even though I had come alone, I was engulfed in a feeling of connectedness. The Women's March organizers knew the best response to a government that seems like its from the Dark Ages was getting people to unify. As if in response to the  election night polls that depicted a country completed divided, the march gave us all a place where we could band together. It's true that protest is not the end all be all answer to feeling unrepresented in government, but it is a starting point.

I have never felt as acutely aware of parts of my identity- woman of color/daughter of immigrants/religious minority - as I did the moment Trump was announced President. What a fuxking joke. What a joke it was that the most competent candidate didn't get the job...a rich white man who continuously put all "other" people down got the position instead. I thought to myself, I wouldn't want to raise children during a Trump presidency. What will I tell my future daughter - that even if she's the most qualified and experienced candidate for the job, some shmuck who makes a mockery out of the work she is so passionate about might get the job over her? How will I explain to her that the people hiring for the position inherently don't believe she has what it takes simply because she is a woman? Sexism exists. Racism exist. Discrimination and hate exist. Even though motherhood is far off for me, I think of my nieces and feel a tightening in my chest. I dare someone to tell them they aren't good enough for any job. I'll continue marching until my baby girls feel just as empowered as their brothers, and have the same opportunities to make their dreams come true.

I never followed politics closely because it gave me anxiety and when the election results came in my anxiety turned into straight up shock. I turned my phone off and prayed that when I woke up on November 9th this would all be a big mix-up. Unfortunately, bad things don't go away just because you disconnect. The deeply disturbing truth of the election is not that Donald Trump won, its that my fellow Americans voted for him. One in ten people in San Francisco, my home and one of the most liberal cities in the nation, voted for this man. That one in ten could've been my neighbor, or my boss, or the people sitting near me at a restaurant. The fear that the person sitting next to you might believe you aren't as worthy of the benefits of this great nation as they are because of their own sense of entitlement and unchecked privilege is the real deal now. The psychological mindfuxkery of the election gutted my belief in a system of checks and balances. To me, the election was never about identifying as Democrat or Republican. I always believed people would vote for the best fit for the job. America only had two choices to choose from and it picked the worst of the two. I can't help but think of the poor/queer/Muslim/Mexican/transgender kid growing up in the middle of the country that must be feeling so alone and targeted. That kid out there somewhere is one of the reasons why I voted for Hillary.

The other day one of my dearest friends was spat on, in the face, and verbally assaulted by random white men while she was loading her vehicle in the middle of her workday. Hearing of this blatant hate crime, where the men shouted, "GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY WETBACKS," made my blood boil. The fact that racist cowards think it's okay to harass two women of color just for existing in the same place at the same time highlights the reality of discrimination in the U.S. And this hate crime happened in the middle of San Francisco, again, one of the most progressive sanctuary cities in the country. What the hell are we doing about this? When my friend said she didn't know what to do to not dwell on this traumatic moment she had just experienced, it broke my heart. The truth is she will never forget that moment and the feeling of humility, disgust and shock. It feels uncomfortable to write about politics but when you sit across from someone with tears in their eyes and a heavy heart because they just experienced a hate crime, it pushes you to overcome the uneasiness.

I have overheard so many people saying things like, "Why don't people get over it already" or "Protesting isn't going to change the results" or "Who cares? We live in California." I want to chat with those people now and tell them the story about my friend getting spat on. I would love to have a dialogue about how the vote on healthcare, reproductive rights or climate change still have major implications for our great state. I used to fear that if I engaged in political discourse it might turn me into one of those annoying people on social media that followers 'mute'. Funnily enough I don't have to worry about being a political troll anymore because Donald Trump is occupying that Twitter space himself. I took the energy and positivity I felt at the Women's March and kept up the momentum by becoming more informed and less passive. After having powerful experiences post election, I don't feel like an uncomfortable bystander anymore. Now I engage in ways that feel right to me. I donate to Planned Parenthood and the ACLU, I follow Kamala Harris and favorite her tweets, I feel newly encouraged to dedicate my time to protecting women, and most of all I feel empowered to speak my mind and participate in dialogue about politics. I guess just like the two girls I saw on that cold and cloudy Saturday in January, I now consider myself a #WokeBitxh.