How many times do I return to this haze of disbelief. Is this really reality? Did I really sign up for this? Did all of us?

At my per diem job, I check in the blissfully proud disillusioned with their American flags stitched in China on their brows. I listen to a white man boast to a brown man in the waiting room about hero worship. Barely two pennies to rub together, but determined to buy the gold shoes from his elected leader. Oh so proud he has no idea who he is talking to. He doesn’t care. He is a white man.

I watch the white woman with her red shirt, rising through her own idea of rank in her myopic world blind to the offspring she has forsaken. Proud, oh so proud, to have fulfilled her familial duty.

On the road, I am behind a black truck with a sticker reading “God, Guns & Trump,” and find myself channeling my father-in-law, “He is so stupid, he doesn’t know he’s stupid.” When did God become a weapon of death?

I am living in a haze of disbelief. Back at my desk job, I try to tune out the proud words of the born-again brown skinned immigrant. Proud, oh so proud that he is an American legally that he cannot wait to send his brothers and sister back to where they came from. He chants scripture to battle the evil inside. I have never met anyone so righteous with hate. The name of the son of his chosen God bookends his car. Hypocrisy at its finest.

I am living in a world gone mad. Bat-shit crazy…

But it is nothing new.

This is his-story. History.

Her-story is being pushed back into the her body, but she is not dead. She never was. Her dormancy is a ruse. She watches in wait. She stirs with unease and sometimes she erupts. She is our Mother, our Sister, our Lover. She is Us.

She will rise again.