Minimally Eschew

I believe in the reckless optimism of Leslie Knope and soothing my soul by watching Parks and Rec on repeat for hours at a time. Letting the pure joy it radiates warm me to the bone.

I believe in learning from the people around me. From their lived experience. In learning from perspectives different from my own. In acknowledging the gaps in my own knowledge.

I believe in sunsets and ocean spray. In sand that has taken permanent residence in the carpets of my car.

I believe in scalding hot bubble baths and good books and wrinkled toes and fingers. In playlists curated by people who love you and soaps that smell like lemon.

I believe in text message affirmations and crying over skype. In phone calls and Facebook chats. In emails with links to YouTube videos of adorable animals and in snapchat selfies a hundred times a day.

I believe in action. In marches and in protest. In boycotts and in the undervalued work of educating others. I believe in walking the walk, in all the ways I can.

I believe in looking at pictures of turtles at least once a day.

I believe in the song “Let’s Dance to Joy Division” and the power of pop punk and aggressive air guitar.

I believe in my religion and the comfort it brings me. Faith can be a complicated thing but even on the days when I question, I never stop believing in my community and my people.

I believe in the power of women. Now, more than ever. In their strength and their fortitude.

I believe in self care through baking banana bread. And M&M cookies. And snickerdoodles and lemon bars. In kneading away stress and showing up to the office with Tupperware containers full of treats.

I believe in snuggly blankets and fuzzy socks. In coziness and comfort.

I believe in myself and I believe in the people around me.

I believe in listening.

I believe that the whole world is a narrow bridge, and that the main thing is not to be afraid.

I believe in pretty dresses and bright lipstick. In allowing myself small acts of beauty when the whole world feels ugly.

I believe, as the wise Albus Dumbledore once said, that “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

I believe in being the light. In shining my brightest and inviting others to radiate their joy and their love and their happiness. In giving what I can. In burning my brightest, even when the days feel dark. .

I believe that it’s time to go to work. To get up in the morning and fight for the people and ideas you believe in. To fight with love and to fight with words and to fight with legislation. To fight in town hall meetings and Facebook debates. To change minds and change hearts and change the dialogue.

I believe that change is possible.

I have memories of standing in elementary school parking lots on that early November day off from school with handfuls of leaflets and stickers up and down my shirt. Checks pink from cold but also from excitement; from energy and enthusiasm pulsing through my veins. Slyly sliding up to adults walking from their cars into the school gym where they would punch their ballots. I’d talk to them; lay out the issues in a way that only a precarious 12 year old who was sure she knew everything about everything could do.

This countdown has been running
on my mother's phone for months.

I grew up in a political family. Not like, Kennedy style, but in my-entire-living-room-is-full-of-sample-ballots-and-i-just-want-somewhere-to-sit-and-do-homework style. My parents worked campaigns and my mom worked for politicians; talk over dinner about bumper stickers and polling places was as familiar to me as breathing. Politics runs in my blood.

And I loved it. I loved the thrill and the rush and the dedication. I loved the passion. I loved the fight.

I still do. .

It’s 9:30 at night and I’ve been home from teaching Hebrew school for maybe 30 minutes. My backpack is on the floor next to me, my laptop is on my lap and MSNBC is on the TV. Twitter is up, and the Vox and Al Jezera liveblogs are open in browser windows. I’m switching back and forth, trying to keep up with all of the news coming in.

It’s incredible to watch, in real time, democracy happen. It’s a privilege that I appreciate, and I hope I never take it for granted

I take my ability to vote very seriously. Though I’ve yet to actually vote in person, through a mix of early voting and absentee, I haven’t missed an election since I turned 18.

I’ve never really understood not caring about politics. How can you not care about the world around you? How can you not care about the people who are going to make the decision that impact your life? Real things get decided in the small elections, when people aren’t paying attention. Tonight people across America voted on everything from school budgets to minimum wage to abortion access.

I see a lot of people my age outraged at the government. Mad at the politicians. Mad at the political climate.

My brother is wearing a bib that says "Future Democrat"
because of course he is.

Here’s what you should do if you’re angry; vote.. Rally your friends. Pass out some fliers. Register students on a college campus. The great thing about living in a democracy is that the people have to power to change it.

I love walking down my street and seeing coats adorned with stickers proudly proclaiming “I voted! Yo votè!” I love seeing pictures of my friends proudly sending off their absentee ballots. I love reading tweet after tweet of my friends—enraged and engaged—caring in a way that people think my generation never could be.

Election night 2012 in Ohio. In a room that cheered as
each result came in.

Even as I sit here, watching the senate turn red, I feel a small tinge of hopefulness. Not because I think anything will get accomplished with a Republican senate (or at least, anything I’d want to get accomplished….) but because I get to watch my friends kicking butt and making change.

So, like every year, I’m camped out in front of the TV. Fist pumping to Rachel Maddow’s one liners and biting my nails down to stubs. I know we’ll lose some races, but we’re going to win some too.

So here’s to election nights. The ones I spent in local bars at age 13, weaving my way through crowds of politicians waiting on the phone call telling them how their next few years would go. The ones I spent in Ohio and Chicago, away from home, but obsessively caring, watching the results roll in slowly then quickly, from everywhere at once. The one I’m spending, here, tonight, in New York. The one’s I’ll spend some day, somewhere I don’t know, but still caring. Still paying attention.

I Believe

It's In My Blood