The Future is Unwritten

by Cynthia Tarana

Like a whole lot of people, the day after election day felt like a big kick in the privates. I didn’t even try to stay up Tuesday night, banking on the fact that it could take days to get the results. But when I woke up around 4 a.m. to go to the bathroom, I turned on my phone, and that was it—I laid in my bed and cried. I had gone to sleep knowing it was going to be close but had the audacity to believe that, in the end, there were more of us than them. I was wrong.

When I say “more of us,” I don’t mean Democrats. Let me get that out of the way: I am not a Democrat. But I did want to believe that more people would reject the racist, sexist, and misogynistic language that had been deeply ingrained in Trump’s messaging during the campaign. Things like, “when she turned Black,” “she slept her way to the top,” or she’s “stupid.” It was all a little too reminiscent of the “Jezebel” stereotype that depicted Black women as sexually promiscuous. This stereotype was historically used not only to justify the racist and sexist treatment of Black women but also to dehumanize them—a tactic that remains disturbingly popular among his followers.

One of the many issues with Americans is that we don’t know enough about our history with oppression outside of slavery. We don’t understand how oppressive systems operate or how they work. We don’t even know the language we should be looking out for.

I’m a firm believer in free speech, but I also believe there should be consequences for it. In a civilized society (whatever that means), at the very least, we need to collectively reject language that is incendiary and leads to people being dehumanized or physically harmed. Let’s face it—this is not a topic the “fuck your feelings” crew is going to embrace. Somewhere along the way, we blurred the boundaries between freedom and cruelty, turning the latter into some twisted badge of honor.

Some justify their vitriol by claiming it’s not really about her Blackness or being a female. Instead, they frame it as a rejection of the (predominantly) left-leaning concept of “political correctness,” which they believe has ruined their country. For the life of me, I can’t understand how so many people—parents no less—claim they are teaching their children “respect” and “Christian values” while jumping on the “she is a ho who slept herself to the top” bandwagon. But I think I get it now.

The cold, hard truth is that a lot of people believe this country is theirs and theirs alone—that they are the chosen heirs of America. They will never accept that anyone outside their narrow worldview could ever be considered “real Americans.” When they talk about “taking their country back,” who exactly are they talking about? And what exactly are they trying to go back to? Their delusions of “greatness” don’t look so great when you see who’s left out.

A significant portion of these “Americans” only have roots as deep as two, three, maybe four generations (which includes my entire family), whereas many Black Americans can trace their ancestry back to the 1600–1700s. You can spin it however you like. You can refuse to have it taught in schools. But the truth is truth, even when you willfully choose to stew in your own decomposing ignorance.

The architects of this country may have been white men, but the country itself? It was built by Black people. The White House, the Capitol, our oldest universities, almost every railroad pre–Civil War—not to mention the Washington, Jefferson, and Madison homes—were all built by slaves.

One of our biggest hurdles is that these details are treated as mere “gloss overs” in high school history classes. But the real kicker is that they’re never viewed through the lens of the enslaved; instead, they’re always filtered through the perspective of the very white President Lincoln. It wasn’t until Occupy that I learned one of the first commodities sold on Wall Street was humans—alongside corn, grain, and meal. That really does tell you everything you need to know about the stock market.

I will never understand how teaching Black history—woven into the very fabric of American history—has remained a contentious topic today. But I get it now. The fear isn’t that it will harm white children or make their tiny heads implode under the weight of guilt. The fear is that when people learn the truth (dating back to the colonization of Indigenous lands), they will reject things like systemic racism or any system that thrives on oppression and marginalization.

Let’s be clear: there is a very calculated and malevolent reason this administration is vowing to go after universities. They know how dangerous knowledge can be.

The secret of freedom lies in educating people, whereas the secret of tyranny is in keeping them ignorant.” – Maximilien de Robespierre

When you start tearing down the illusion of what you were taught America is versus the reality of what it has been for Black, Brown, or Indigenous people, those who benefit from the “status quo” will often tell you that you’re a self-loathing white person. That’s absurd. Acknowledging that the Black experience in America is different from your own isn’t self-loathing—it’s basic recognition that your experience isn’t the only one.

If your child were to hit or hurt another child, wouldn’t you explain why hitting is wrong? Would you ever fear that the lesson would scar them for life? Of course not—that’s ridiculous. You’re teaching them how to operate in a civilized society. If small children can handle this kind of scrutiny, then teenagers can certainly withstand the reality of American history taught from the Black perspective.

Ignoring our past doesn’t protect us. In fact, if you look at the divisions among us today, it does tremendous damage.

After almost two weeks of trying to digest the election, my sadness and disappointment have begun to morph into action, which includes writing again. The truth is, I got lazy under Biden. I falsely believed that Trumpism (not to be confused with Republicanism) had been rejected. As many have said, this isn’t a “difference in politics”—this is a difference in morality.

I have friends who sat this election out because of the Biden/Harris administration’s lack of urgency—or, frankly, backbone—on issues like the war in Palestine. Our funding, arming, and support of the Israeli government’s actions in Gaza and beyond smells far too much like the U.S.’s War on Terror.

October 7th was horrifying for Israelis, just as 9/11 was horrifying for Americans. But way too many innocent people, including women and children, are being killed. Criticizing the response of governments and calling that criticism “anti-Semitic” or “anti-American” is a tactic to keep people fearful of speaking out.

If we can’t hold governments accountable for their actions, how can we hold individuals accountable for theirs?

This topic wasn’t an easy one for me, and I didn’t take it lightly. I played mental ping-pong with myself for months. I paid close attention to what Palestinian Americans had to say, and, quite frankly, they seemed equally divided. My conclusion was this: if both administrations were equally awful on this topic (though I believe Trump would be far worse and allow Netanyahu to take Gaza), I needed to go with the “less harm” candidate.

I chose the one who wouldn’t roll back the progress our friends in the LGBTQIA movement have made. The one who wasn’t bragging about restricting women’s rights.

I didn’t vote for Clinton in 2016, but never in a million years did I think Roe v. Wade would be overturned. Never did I think women’s entire existences would be reduced to being human incubators for men.

I listened closely to the tone and language of their campaign as it painted everyone outside of their “norm” as enemies to their very existence. I listened as their ads turned the word “activist” into something to be reviled. And because I know history, I know exactly what they’re trying to do: weaponize dissent.

When you hear the gaslighting from men on the far right about how tough life has been for them under affirmative action, political correctness, and the feminist movement, it makes you scream from depths you never knew existed. Joe Rogan’s last-minute endorsement of Donald Trump, knowing the influence he has over these men, is the perfect example of an act of self-preservation.

My friend and I were talking about how someone—a guy with daughters—could justify blatant sexism and support such restrictive laws over women’s bodies. At one point, we both respected Rogan. But let’s face it: people with money will always have options. If one of Rogan’s daughters gets pregnant, Daddy has the resources to put her on a private jet and “solve the problem.” The rest of us? Well, we can eat cake.

We tell our daughters they can be anything they want to be. That they can live their lives however they choose—just like boys. But the moment Trump’s campaign doubled down and started publicly attacking and shaming women for their choices, I was done.

I will never forget or forgive the women who cheered. And more importantly, their daughters will remember.

I can see how weak men want to hold power over strong women, but for the life of me, I do not understand how any woman would willingly hand over her power.

The villainization of immigrants is something else I refuse to accept. I concede that our immigration system is broken, that our cities’ infrastructures cannot withstand the influx of immigrants, and even that there are “bad people” who have gotten through the border. But there are ways to have these conversations without dehumanizing people.

Mass deportations are not the answer. Most people come here for the opportunity to work and support their families, not to commit crimes. I live on Long Island, where the consensus seems to be zero tolerance—even though so many businesses around here, like construction, restaurants, landscaping, and farming, rely on these workers.

I’ve been reading about the “Paradox of Intolerance” because, so often, I’ve been conflicted within myself. Should I be more tolerant? What good comes from retreating to our respective corners?

For now, though, in an act of self-preservation, I want to be with like-minded people: the activists who are organizing, the artists who are creating, and the people who are building toward something better rather than hell-bent on dragging us back to a time that was not built for all Americans.

Even though we may be the minority, I’m proud to stand with you. I know a lot of us are still trying to process this election (myself included). But after we’ve had a collective moment to regroup, it’s time to figure out a “Plan B.”

Whether we like it or not, January 20th is around the corner. None of us can truly say what the next four years will hold, but as the great Joe Strummer said, “The future is unwritten.”

Let’s make sure we write it well.

Cynthia Tarana is a heavily tattooed Ex-Con with no college education and very bad punctuation. She currently lives on Long Island, NY where she pays extremely high taxes, likes to drink, rage against the machine and shop at the GAP.