I joined this site a very long time ago — one of those who signed up when we were fighting for Howard Dean. Since that time, I’ve visited almost every day.
But if you look at my comments and diary list, you’ll see that until just recently, I almost never contributed. I’d go through spurts here and there, but then I’d fade back into the background.
I felt a lot safer in the background.
For me, politics was a spectator sport. I gave money and I followed my favorite “teams” — but I felt like I had to stay on the sidelines.
My professional field is tiny — just a handful of people in the world. I’m the only woman so prominent. It’s not a place for politics.
Every day, I get to work with some of the people who will get us out of the environmental messes we’re in, if it can be done. I feel like we’re doing a lot of good, in places that aren’t visible to everyone. And that’s how I justified staying in the background.
I can see now that was a mistake.
Since Tuesday, November 8, I’ve cried almost every day. It feels like someone close to me died. I was supposed to plant daffodils that Thursday, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything that expressed so much hope.
In that time, this site has become a refuge — a place to say the things I didn’t say before. A place to find comfort, and to try to understand this new world we’re in.
Since that day, one thing has broken through: how much I love my country.
I already grieve for my country.
I’ve travelled the world and I’ve seen that America’s not the best at everything. A lot of our infrastructure is crumbling - the contrast with Asia is stark.
Folks in Europe don’t worry about health care or retirement, and that frees up so much of their energy. They take time to be with their families — they take in the refugees. And despite our claims to lead the world in innovation - the best work right now is happening elsewhere.
My partner and I have thought about leaving, because we at least have the option. It would be better for business if we did, and there would be a lot less to explain.
But I love my country.
It’s the only place in the whole wide world that’s home. And I can’t believe that after 240 years, our experiment with democracy could really be over.
Yet I see the signs in the systematic repression of voting rights, in the breakouts of hate crimes, in tweets, cabinet appointments and policy plans, that at best, our country is in for a difficult time.
I can’t leave America now in her hour of need. So here we’ll stay, and deal with the questions from our clients, who wonder what the f*** we Yanks have done this time, and what it means for them.
And I am so sorry that I didn’t do more when there was more of a chance.
So you have a right to be angry with me. You have a right to mistrust me. I haven’t proven myself to be capable of anything but cheering from the sidelines intermittently.
And please know I admire you all — the ones who put yourself on the front lines every day. The ones who canvassed, called, marched and spoke out against injustice. The ones who cared so passionately about everything that they couldn’t have stayed in the background.
I’ll have to earn my place on your team, and I could never live with myself if I didn’t bring my best self to this fight.
So I'll start in Cincinnati and then figure it out from there.
I’ll do what I can to fight for my country, to secure the blessings of liberty for this generation, and for the ones to come after me.
So please forgive me.