In Search of Solace

I was hanging with a friend in Manhattan recently. We’ve never seen eye-to-eye politically and I prefer to simply avoid the subject. This was true more than ever last week because I had no idea where she stood on Donald Trump. And frankly, I thought it best that I not know. Yet at the end of our outing, with me about to descend subway steps to head home, somehow we were there. I made a passing comment about not sleeping well with Trump in the White House and my friend noted that half the country was sleeping very well and didn’t I get some solace from that? That’s an unequivocal no. Solace? What? Solace? This has been working on me all week. I am not getting solace from white supremacists sleeping better. Or gun-toting fools who think the government is out to get them. I get no solace from well-rested “Christians” who want to control whether or not a woman can decide for herself to have a baby, but not give a crap what happens once that child is here and needs real health care. Solace is not my go-to when I think of all the self-loathing women who are immune to the actions and comments of a pussy-grabbing predator and felt it was OK to impose him on the rest of us. Glad they’re happily snoozing? No. Solace?...

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