Originally Published November 8, 2022. No matter how the election goes today (November 5, 2024 – Election Day), all feelings of grief, rage, joy, despair, hope are valid. I hope reading this helps you realize you’re not alone.
Austin, TX
Content Warnings: r*pe, s*xual assault, mental illness, police brutality
November 8th. 2022. 9:56PM. Election Night.
The race for Texas governor is called. Republican incumbent, Greg Abbott, has won a third term by a safe margin.
I’ve spent the evening making cookies for the 110 people who live in my co-op, listening to music, and trying so hard not to fall into despair.
Greg Abbot wins.
I take a cold shower and laugh and cry at the absurdity of the life I am leading these days.
I wish I could be surprised. And part of me is. I have been commiserating with my friends and family members for years. “2022. We’ll vote him out.” “We can make it till then.”
But I’m not surprised. This country, this state has shown me time and time again that they do not care about me.
My freshman year of college, I was raped multiple times. I was too scared for years to tell anyone, and when I did, I was told I didn’t have enough evidence to be able to go through an effective Title IX process. “Try to move on.” “There’s nothing we can do.”
I put my head down and dug into my studies, setting my sites on attaining an MD/PhD. I set up my four-year plan, told myself I was ok, and tried to carry on.
The COVID-19 pandemic hit Austin in March of 2020. I found out while checking my email during the intermission of Broadway’s Aladdin at Bass Hall on campus. School was canceled until further notice. Students are to move out of dorms immediately.
So, I go home. Still determined not to let the world get to me, I set up my desk and try to be ok.
2020. George Floyed is murdered. Ahmaud Arbery is murdered. Breonna Taylor is murdered. Desperate, angry, righteous, grieving shouts that “Black Lives Matter!” are met by “All Lives Matter,” completely missing the point of calling attention to the pain that our society heaps on people of color. Instances of police brutality come to the light once more, just as they have in the last so many decades in this country where we continue to allow systemic racism, discrimination, and persecution to thrive. Friends post black squares on their Instagram, trying to show their solidarity. They use hashtags #BlackLivesMatter, at the same time showing solidarity and also taking up space, adding more chaos to the cacophony.
2020. I finally cannot pretend to be ok. I slip into hopelessness and despair so often. But still, I carry on. I’m a woman in science. I’m the eldest daughter. I have to be ok. I have to get good grades and continue to jump through the hoops that are constantly put in front of me – each one raised an inch taller than the last.
Trump loses to Biden but claims election fraud. An insurrection occurs at the Capitol. I watch the news in horror as people scale the walls. I watch videos of riots put down by tear gas. I read articles of forced sterilization of women incarcerated at the Texas-Mexico border.
How can this be my world?
COVID-19 kills millions. I go to chemistry.
Police brutality continues. Murderers walk free. I study for my lab practical.
Another rape goes unnoticed, unpunished. I get coffee with my friends.
The planet is burning. I edit an essay.
Another shooting. I study for exams.
Abortion is illegal. I paint.
Greg Abbott is governor.
I start going to therapy. It’s been the most helpful thing in my life. I’m diagnosed first with depression, anxiety, then PTSD, panic disorder, insomnia, bipolar… A year ago, I was suicidal and so badly dysfunctional that I drop my classes, quit my jobs, and start going to an intensive therapy program for 12 hours a week. It gets easier. It gets harder. How is this my life?
I come out as bisexual to my family. At first, it goes terribly. Then, it gets better. I change my name. I drop pre-med. I find science communication. I come out as non-binary, gender fluid, trans.
I’m a disabled, queer survivor in Texas. My grief is constant, and I will forever hold rage and despair in my body and heart that I have been shown how little I matter by this government. When Roe V. Wade was overturned this past summer, I fought my summer program to give accommodations to my fellow students, because what else could I do? We were heartbroken.
Texas attorney general Ken Paxton says that this is the first step, and that one day he will come after gay marriage and even return to the old Texas law outlawing sodomy.
Summer 2022. I am raped again by my boyfriend at the time who knew all of my history with sexual violence. He, a cis, heterosexual white man, tells me if I leave Texas I’m “letting them win,” because if I don’t educate, advocate, fight for what is right then who will. I finish my business minor.
Abortion is illegal. I stock up on Plan B, condoms, pregnancy tests. Abortion is illegal – even in cases of rape and incest. None of my rapists used condoms. I cried each time I got my period afterwards. Relief. But what if I had been pregnant? The men who chose to violate me are put above me. The potential for an unborn child originating from an act of power, control, and patriarchy is valued more than my own life and sanity. They don’t care about me. They don’t care about my ability to choose, to consent to carrying a child. Instead, they rejoice in the victory they have attained for life. Whose life?
How can this be my life?
How can this be the life of so many people? We are tired, broken, burnt out, angry, grieving. We are human. And yet we are treated as so much less. Our health, our lives, our identity. None of it seems to matter to those in power.
November 8th. 2022. 10:51PM.
I go back to writing a paper for my family relationship class.
2026. We’ll vote him out. We can make it till then.