Hey, no apologies necessary. Hope is a choice and I decided I'd rather feel hopeful and be wrong, then feel like shit for most of '24 and be "right." I appreciate your writing and the way you frame misogyny. Thank you. If anything, this election means we don't have to apologize for being angry.
"Ethical loneliness" describes what I've been feeling (and wrote about in a recent post on Substack) so very glad to learn that term. And the need to talk to our daughters about misogyny is exactly why I wrote Sexism & Sensibility (and why my editor and I busted our asses to get it out before the election). There is a way to do it without scaring them and so they're less likely to internalize the absolute bullshit they are going to encounter (as I know you know). Thanks for this thoughtful piece.
Thank you for this, Kate. Knowing that you, and so many others, are out there fighting to make the world a better and juster place gives me hope.
I took my oldest child with me to vote in 2016--her first outing as a newborn. I still can't look at the pictures of her in her "destroy patriarchy" shirt without weeping. This morning, I had to tell my youngest child, a toddler with a keen sense of justice, that Trump had won, and watch her cry.
I fear for their future, but that is also why I will continue to fight, even in the face of so much hopelessness. It's all we can do.
Thanks for this offering. Thanks for still being here.
Thank you for this thoughtful post and for making me aware of Stauffer's idea of "ethical loneliness." I now want to read her book!
A somewhat rambling comment, not on the election but on everyday experiences of ethical loneliness: I think I've often experienced ethical loneliness while being sexually harassed in public - walking down the street or (what's sometimes worse because it can be harder to get away from the harasser) riding the bus - in full view of plenty of people who are not participating in the harassment but are also not doing anything to stop it. I generally don't blame people for not confronting the harasser, since doing so might put them in danger and/or increase the danger to me by provoking the harasser to even more aggressive behavior. But I do sometimes wish bystanders would do something to communicate support and solidarity. My guess, though, is that this option just doesn't occur to a lot of people, since it's easy to see this kind of choice situation as a simple binary: either you do something, in which case you must be maximally confrontational/risk-taking/"active," or you prioritize your own (and others') safety, which you (mistakenly but understandably) believe requires doing nothing at all. So, I'd like to believe many people *are* sympathetic and indignant on behalf of those whom they witness being subjected to everyday wrongdoing like harassment; they just don't know how to *act* on that sympathy/indignation in a way that's sensitive to other important considerations like safety. And so a lot of social sympathy and indignation, which could be of great value to the victim if it were made visible to her, goes unexpressed and stays invisible. Which is kind of a tragic waste.
This is why I love your (Kate's) point about the importance of "bearing witness" to wrongdoing. We can often communicate support to the victim of wrongdoing in ways that make a real, morally significant difference - in part by affirming for the victim her moral perception of what's happening to her (speaking for myself, it was only once I reached adulthood that I realized I wasn't crazy or overly sensitive for being upset about all the harassment I'd been experiencing since middle school) - even if we can't, or shouldn't, respond by confronting the wrongdoer. And of course, none of this is to say that confrontation is never a good option! I think it sometimes is, and sometimes it's in fact obligatory. My point is just that many bystanders of everyday wrongdoing, like the victims themselves, often have very good reasons *not* to confront the wrongdoer, but this does not mean there's nothing they can or should do for the victim. Still, I don't want to judge bystanders too harshly for failing to support victims as they should, in the kind of situation I've described. First, because I know I've been guilty of that failing myself (although maybe that just means I should be judging myself harshly too!), and second, because I think we lack a good, nuanced, shared understanding of the many and varied ways in which a bystander can fulfill their obligations of support to the victim, over and above simply confronting the wrongdoer. My sense is that we (and I'm including myself here) often get stuck seeing these cases in the over-simplified, binary way, and that we'd become morally better, as bystanders, if we could move past that.
This is such an important point and I really appreciate your sharing. I think active bystander training should be taught far and wide, and you're right that it still won't be enough--but even a sympathetic glance and checking in after the fact is not nothing. Thanks again, and sending all the solidarity xo
💔🙏🏻 I don’t regret one bit of my hope and volunteer efforts over the last few months. It’s sustained me, it brought me community, it gave me clarity. Yes I am in despair and anguish today. I really thought we had it. I bought Prosecco. So deeply grateful for all you do.
This morning I’ve noticed some people I know who are privileged enough to think “well at least my family should be safe, if we hunker down”. I’m readying myself to confront them on this over and over for the next four years. We can’t just hide to in a misguided effort to our own safe and forget about the rest of the world. Today I rest and feel deeply, tomorrow I see what I can do to help.
Just subscribed to comment that i've been reading your articles and books for a while. You don't need to apologize for expressing hope, since it was well reasoned, intentional and gave you strength. It's giving me (and everyone else) strength to move forward as well 💜
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great ...
What a brutal election and frightening time we face at the excited desires of tens of millions of our fellow Americans. Why am I surprised? This nation elected him the first time around. Millions of us would rather have the worst man leading us than any woman. That is what I take away from this. This was an election about women’s place in the pecking order, which is, apparently, at the end of it. We should be happy to peck up the crumbs after everyone else and then clean up afterwards. With a smile. And gratitude for the opportunity to have some crumbs and a role at all. It makes me sick. Absolutely sick.
I’ve resubscribed, because this is the second post that has made me feel better, mostly because it helps me understand what I’m feeling. And it also redirected me back to the thing that I tend to cling to like a life raft—poetry.
I’m generally a perpetual optimist. Almost against my will sometimes. But I may not be anymore. Reading your perspective on hope is weirdly helpful.
I don't know how old everyone is in this community but I am 58 and my age colors how see this election. I lived in Southern Africa during apartheid (I am not South African) and it taught me domination is not about the numbers. A well resourced small group can control a larger group and a innovative, determined small group can over-throw their oppressors--it goes both ways. When I was a student activist in the 1980's divestment movement, progressive students were a very tiny group. The views we had at that time were considered radical--we were unicorns. In 2016, Bernie Sanders won 43% of the popular vote by touting those same "radical" views. (Note, I have issues with Bernie, but still that's impressive.) The patriarchy is bipartisan and we cannot expect Democrats to have women's backs. We need to think creatively, subversively and build networks outside the electoral system--after we catch our breath.
So interesting, Kate. Your post made me reflect that I don’t really try to sell my 7-year-old son on the good bones. Or rather, perhaps I try to sell him on the good *bones*, but I have been very clear even since he was a toddler that people do terrible things. There have been so many examples of it so far in his life after all: the separation of kids from their parents at the border, the murder of George Floyd and so many other innocents, the Uvalde school shooting. I am aware that this is an unusual, maybe even sub-optimal, way of parenting, but it’s also the only way I know how to be. (And led him, aged 5 or 6 to shout at a book character who was confused about discrimination, “it’s racism, Jack!!”)
On Wednesday morning though, I felt so sad knowing that when he woke up I would have to crush his hopes and let him know that Donald Trump had been elected again. It did feel like a moment of letting him know that perhaps the “bones” weren’t so good after all.
No apologies necessary… and though this feels like it’s over… maybe when the grieving is fully felt, we will begin to draw on strength we didn’t even know we possessed.
Kate, thank you for your intense and clear assertion of where we are and with whom we share the world. I'm glad that you wrote about your daughter and her feelings about the world she is entering and about her ability to live with it. Since Tuesday night I have been angry and scared and sad and baffled and appalled. After a lot of reading in the last few days I may now have some understanding of why those people voted for this horrible man but no understanding of how they can justify it to themselves. Once more, my heart is broken, as it has been so many times … so many times. I know yours is, too.
Hey, no apologies necessary. Hope is a choice and I decided I'd rather feel hopeful and be wrong, then feel like shit for most of '24 and be "right." I appreciate your writing and the way you frame misogyny. Thank you. If anything, this election means we don't have to apologize for being angry.
"Ethical loneliness" describes what I've been feeling (and wrote about in a recent post on Substack) so very glad to learn that term. And the need to talk to our daughters about misogyny is exactly why I wrote Sexism & Sensibility (and why my editor and I busted our asses to get it out before the election). There is a way to do it without scaring them and so they're less likely to internalize the absolute bullshit they are going to encounter (as I know you know). Thanks for this thoughtful piece.
Thank you for this, Kate. Knowing that you, and so many others, are out there fighting to make the world a better and juster place gives me hope.
I took my oldest child with me to vote in 2016--her first outing as a newborn. I still can't look at the pictures of her in her "destroy patriarchy" shirt without weeping. This morning, I had to tell my youngest child, a toddler with a keen sense of justice, that Trump had won, and watch her cry.
I fear for their future, but that is also why I will continue to fight, even in the face of so much hopelessness. It's all we can do.
Thanks for this offering. Thanks for still being here.
Thank you for this thoughtful post and for making me aware of Stauffer's idea of "ethical loneliness." I now want to read her book!
A somewhat rambling comment, not on the election but on everyday experiences of ethical loneliness: I think I've often experienced ethical loneliness while being sexually harassed in public - walking down the street or (what's sometimes worse because it can be harder to get away from the harasser) riding the bus - in full view of plenty of people who are not participating in the harassment but are also not doing anything to stop it. I generally don't blame people for not confronting the harasser, since doing so might put them in danger and/or increase the danger to me by provoking the harasser to even more aggressive behavior. But I do sometimes wish bystanders would do something to communicate support and solidarity. My guess, though, is that this option just doesn't occur to a lot of people, since it's easy to see this kind of choice situation as a simple binary: either you do something, in which case you must be maximally confrontational/risk-taking/"active," or you prioritize your own (and others') safety, which you (mistakenly but understandably) believe requires doing nothing at all. So, I'd like to believe many people *are* sympathetic and indignant on behalf of those whom they witness being subjected to everyday wrongdoing like harassment; they just don't know how to *act* on that sympathy/indignation in a way that's sensitive to other important considerations like safety. And so a lot of social sympathy and indignation, which could be of great value to the victim if it were made visible to her, goes unexpressed and stays invisible. Which is kind of a tragic waste.
This is why I love your (Kate's) point about the importance of "bearing witness" to wrongdoing. We can often communicate support to the victim of wrongdoing in ways that make a real, morally significant difference - in part by affirming for the victim her moral perception of what's happening to her (speaking for myself, it was only once I reached adulthood that I realized I wasn't crazy or overly sensitive for being upset about all the harassment I'd been experiencing since middle school) - even if we can't, or shouldn't, respond by confronting the wrongdoer. And of course, none of this is to say that confrontation is never a good option! I think it sometimes is, and sometimes it's in fact obligatory. My point is just that many bystanders of everyday wrongdoing, like the victims themselves, often have very good reasons *not* to confront the wrongdoer, but this does not mean there's nothing they can or should do for the victim. Still, I don't want to judge bystanders too harshly for failing to support victims as they should, in the kind of situation I've described. First, because I know I've been guilty of that failing myself (although maybe that just means I should be judging myself harshly too!), and second, because I think we lack a good, nuanced, shared understanding of the many and varied ways in which a bystander can fulfill their obligations of support to the victim, over and above simply confronting the wrongdoer. My sense is that we (and I'm including myself here) often get stuck seeing these cases in the over-simplified, binary way, and that we'd become morally better, as bystanders, if we could move past that.
This is such an important point and I really appreciate your sharing. I think active bystander training should be taught far and wide, and you're right that it still won't be enough--but even a sympathetic glance and checking in after the fact is not nothing. Thanks again, and sending all the solidarity xo
💔🙏🏻 I don’t regret one bit of my hope and volunteer efforts over the last few months. It’s sustained me, it brought me community, it gave me clarity. Yes I am in despair and anguish today. I really thought we had it. I bought Prosecco. So deeply grateful for all you do.
This morning I’ve noticed some people I know who are privileged enough to think “well at least my family should be safe, if we hunker down”. I’m readying myself to confront them on this over and over for the next four years. We can’t just hide to in a misguided effort to our own safe and forget about the rest of the world. Today I rest and feel deeply, tomorrow I see what I can do to help.
Just subscribed to comment that i've been reading your articles and books for a while. You don't need to apologize for expressing hope, since it was well reasoned, intentional and gave you strength. It's giving me (and everyone else) strength to move forward as well 💜
Tears … just tears
Big virtual hug. I'm so sorry.
We had our pity party
Now we plan and plot and do and cry and take care of everyone we can . We do not quit
We do. That is the antidote of despair
We must be stronger than we were yesterday
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great ...
Thanks Dr F. ..❤️
What a brutal election and frightening time we face at the excited desires of tens of millions of our fellow Americans. Why am I surprised? This nation elected him the first time around. Millions of us would rather have the worst man leading us than any woman. That is what I take away from this. This was an election about women’s place in the pecking order, which is, apparently, at the end of it. We should be happy to peck up the crumbs after everyone else and then clean up afterwards. With a smile. And gratitude for the opportunity to have some crumbs and a role at all. It makes me sick. Absolutely sick.
I’ve resubscribed, because this is the second post that has made me feel better, mostly because it helps me understand what I’m feeling. And it also redirected me back to the thing that I tend to cling to like a life raft—poetry.
I’m generally a perpetual optimist. Almost against my will sometimes. But I may not be anymore. Reading your perspective on hope is weirdly helpful.
I don't know how old everyone is in this community but I am 58 and my age colors how see this election. I lived in Southern Africa during apartheid (I am not South African) and it taught me domination is not about the numbers. A well resourced small group can control a larger group and a innovative, determined small group can over-throw their oppressors--it goes both ways. When I was a student activist in the 1980's divestment movement, progressive students were a very tiny group. The views we had at that time were considered radical--we were unicorns. In 2016, Bernie Sanders won 43% of the popular vote by touting those same "radical" views. (Note, I have issues with Bernie, but still that's impressive.) The patriarchy is bipartisan and we cannot expect Democrats to have women's backs. We need to think creatively, subversively and build networks outside the electoral system--after we catch our breath.
So interesting, Kate. Your post made me reflect that I don’t really try to sell my 7-year-old son on the good bones. Or rather, perhaps I try to sell him on the good *bones*, but I have been very clear even since he was a toddler that people do terrible things. There have been so many examples of it so far in his life after all: the separation of kids from their parents at the border, the murder of George Floyd and so many other innocents, the Uvalde school shooting. I am aware that this is an unusual, maybe even sub-optimal, way of parenting, but it’s also the only way I know how to be. (And led him, aged 5 or 6 to shout at a book character who was confused about discrimination, “it’s racism, Jack!!”)
On Wednesday morning though, I felt so sad knowing that when he woke up I would have to crush his hopes and let him know that Donald Trump had been elected again. It did feel like a moment of letting him know that perhaps the “bones” weren’t so good after all.
No apologies necessary… and though this feels like it’s over… maybe when the grieving is fully felt, we will begin to draw on strength we didn’t even know we possessed.
Sending solidarity and good luck for the conversation with your kid whenever it comes. I am sure (I can promise!) it will all she needs.
Clarity and bracingly so, unsurprisingly. Thanks for all you do.
Kate, thank you for your intense and clear assertion of where we are and with whom we share the world. I'm glad that you wrote about your daughter and her feelings about the world she is entering and about her ability to live with it. Since Tuesday night I have been angry and scared and sad and baffled and appalled. After a lot of reading in the last few days I may now have some understanding of why those people voted for this horrible man but no understanding of how they can justify it to themselves. Once more, my heart is broken, as it has been so many times … so many times. I know yours is, too.