I Choose Hope, Still and Again

How and why I am choosing to respond to what happened and what may come.

Yes, it’s bad.

For so many, grief, frustration, fear, confusion, disappointment, and anger are real — very real.

There are many reasons that Trump won and Harris lost, some or all of which could be simultaneously true.

I have seen the doomsday predictions of what may come.

I have heard some folks take responsibility.

I have observed the policing of emotions.

I have witnessed the blame-casting; some thoughtful and much racist.

Some folks have been deeply self-reflective, generous, and gracious.

Others are just pissed off, and their words convey the depth of their anger.

I have read the post-mortems and the post-mortems of the post-mortems.

I have been annoyed, frustrated, disappointed, saddened, despairing, numb, agitated, and angry.

So, yes, it’s bad, and we are all responding differently.

Like many people, my spirit has been a swirling storm of emotions over the past week, and I have wondered where I should place my particular and shared musings of despair and hope. I have zero interest in policing how and what people are feeling, but here is where I am, almost one week later.

First, I am not surprised by the outcomes.

Still — I choose hope.

I am enraged by the election results at all levels of our government. My state, California, refused to reject slavery, re-upped for the War on Crime 3.0, and denied to raise the minimum wage.

Still — I choose hope.

I am frustrated by the Democratic Party, of which I have been a member for my entire life. The platform abandoned those of us who occupy its left spaces about the environment, crime, and Palestine. My blue state vote went to the Democratic Socialist Candidates, Claudia and Karina, the first time since 1988 that I have ever not voted for the Democratic nominee.

Still — I choose hope.

I despise the lying that has undergirded the normalization of blatant racism and misogyny as the precursor to further legalized governmental oppression — and often done in the name of God.

Still — I choose hope.

I do not look forward to the next four years of ratcheted-up protest and resistance that will beckon us forth. I do not look forward to putting my body and security on the line. I do not look forward to seeing friends, family, colleagues, and compadres do the same.

Still — I choose hope.

I do not look forward to another season of strained relationships with acquaintances, friends, and colleagues.

Still — I choose hope.

While it may have felt like a self-soothing act of progressive opposition to say, “This is not who we are,” we can no longer lie to ourselves because this is indeed who we are.

Still — I choose hope.

I am annoyed by white people who are centering and normalizing their struggles because, for the first time, they are realizing that government oppression may impact their lives.

Still — I choose hope.

I grieve knowing that the pace of the burning of the world and the suffering of humanity may be sped up both metaphorically and actually.

Still — I choose hope.

I hate that so many will continue to see empathy, justice, and flourishing as a zero-sum game — causing them to choose comfort and indifference over courage and direct action.

Still — I choose hope.

I have hope because Palestinian, after Palestinian, has told me they still have hope. If my Palestinian siblings, who are staring down genocide and ethnic cleansing, can have hope, how dare I not?

So, still — I choose hope.

I have hope because I am the hope manifested by my ancestors, my Filipino and Chinese ancestors here and in my homelands, who endured struggle, pain, and oppression at the hands of multiple generations of institutions and governments.

So, still — I choose hope.

I have hope because I still see so much love around me and in the struggle. To deny the presence of love is to let evil win.

So, still — I choose hope.

I have hope because I want my descendants, seven generations downstream, to taste the fruits of our collective work for justice and goodness.

So, still — I choose hope.

And finally, I refuse to let hate, evil, or indifference win my soul, my heart, my mind, or any of my days.

So, still and forever — I choose hope.

I hope you also choose hope because hope must fuel our collective, ongoing, and generations-long struggle against the forces that want us to feed on despair. While there was always going to be more work to be done, no matter the outcome, there will now be even more. For the good of your soul — grieve, mourn, and rage as you need for as long as you need, and when you are ready, let’s get back to work.