The results of the election in the States seemed to have enveloped one part of the world in a dark cloud. It’s such a strange world we live in now. Like many, I was upset about the results, mostly because I’m worried about my family living there: even though they are American citizens, they are an easy target all because of the way they look and when you have a man who seems to demonstrate all the worst “isms” in life become President of that country, what are their chances? They might as well draw a bull’s eye on their foreheads.
When my husband woke me up on Wednesday morning to tell me the results of the elections, I wanted to grab my daughter and start digging a hole so deep and keep her there until it’s safe to come out again. I don’t want her to grow up in a world where it’s okay to be a misogynist and sexually assault women and yet be elected President of the most powerful country in the world.
This morning, I wanted to wake up and realise that yesterday was a bad dream. That it wasn’t our reality. But I’ve been here before. We had our own elections in the Philippines months ago. Just like everywhere, clearly our people were tired of the political elite ruling our country and wanted change. Like the Americans they thought they could turn to a demigod, a man they thought they could trust even though he made rape-jokes and thought that he could get away with it, by apologising later on and claiming it was all humour, just like Trump who called it “locker-room” talk. And now that man has sold my country to China. He and his supporters have re-written our history by allowing a former dictator to be given a heroes burial. A dictator who robbed my country clean, who killed thousands, among them, a poet, the father of one of my closest friends, and also the husband of my mum’s best-friend right in front of her, forcing her to pull the trigger, when she couldn’t do it. They just shot him, but not before using her bellybutton as an ash tray. That very same day, she lost her baby too. The same one who tortured my own mother when she was an activist during his time. I guess, I ought to be thankful that they didn’t kill her. Is that all for nought? Really?
We live in such strange times indeed. My sister said in jest, the world is ending. I replied to her seriously and said “No, it can’t end. We have our kids to think of!” After all, it’s our children who will have to live with the mistakes of our past. And here I was thinking that I’ve had it with gloomy thoughts. Can you blame me?
No more bad news please.