Holding My Breath

I’ve tried writing this week, repeatedly. But each time I take to my keyboard, I wind up setting aside my draft. Few subjects seem of interest. Few words feel relevant. No commentary, lighthearted or serious, feels sustainable. Because what I’m really doing these days, and especially over the next 24 to 48 hours is holding my breath.

As more and more information and video clips have come out — see this collection of Capitol videos via ProPublica.org and this clip from The New Yorker via CNN — and with ongoing right-wing extremist threats nationwide, I find myself counting down the hours until this inauguration is safely concluded. That will not end my anxiety, but a momentous event that I had hoped to enjoy and celebrate, like millions of other Americans, is now an event that I will view online while holding my breath.

When will I exhale? I can’t say. Surely, to a small degree, on Thursday, the day after the inauguration. To a greater degree, I hope, as the weeks unfold with few or no incidents of concern. Even as I type that sentence, I realize my own skepticism that we’re talking about “weeks.”

When will any of us in the U.S. cease to feel our sensibilities stuck on high alert? I suppose that is an individual question based upon the extent to which we believe our various media resources, the extent to which we have paid attention to the events of recent weeks and months, the extent to which threats and violence persist, and all of that as background to the other pressing matters that define our days. You know what I mean — the pressing matters that always take up most of the oxygen in our lives, particularly in the caretaking-oriented lives of women, so frequently juggling work (or looking for work) with family responsibilities.

Meanwhile, Washington, D.C. resembles a fortress. It’s surreal. It’s profoundly sad.

One thing surprises me this morning, despite these past weeks’ concerns: my own fledgling optimism that we may, over time, experience significant improvements under the Biden-Harris administration.

Improvements in handling the coronavirus and vaccination process. Improvements in the economy. Improvements in racial justice issues. And perhaps, if we’re lucky, slowly bridging the gap among Americans whose differences today are wider than we could ever have imagined.

I am moderating that optimism while knowing that this will be a slow process. I am moderating that optimism while hoping that this period of American isolationism in the world will all also come to an end soon and quickly. I am moderating that optimism while understanding just how deeply divided we Americans are. I am moderating that optimism while recognizing that under the best of circumstances what takes place in Washington D.C. can be messy and terribly (shamefully) slow.

I did say “fledgling” optimism, after all.

Incidentally, watching the news early this morning, one particular image just gutted me — the display of hundreds of thousands of American flags on the National Mall, where, in a “normal” year there would be people. Those flags, obviously, represent the roughly 400,000 Americans who have died of coronavirus to date. It is a chilling sight. And I wept.

If you can, find the image online. It is painful. It is starkly beautiful. And it is, finally, an acknowledgment of the unfathomable loss that has touched so many families, not only in the US, but around the world.

 

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