What We Forge
In January of 2017, I posted a quote attributed to a Turkish proverb: “When the axe came into the woods, many of the trees said, ‘At least the handle is one of us.’”
I posted it out of frustration at the political precipice our country was standing on — the swearing-in of the person I won’t name here. This post may be inspired by him, but it isn’t about him.
It’s about me.
And no matter who you voted for, it’s about you, too.
Before I talk about today, I have to back up to November of last year, when I went to bed knowing, with increasing clarity and dread, what the majority of Americans wanted — or, at least, what they rejected. I felt something inside of me break. This was different from 2016, when the outcome shocked so many of us. This time, it was a deliberate choice for a known quantity, a direction that feels deeply opposed not just to what I want for our nation, but to what I hope to see in others.
This election felt like a rejection of everything I’ve believed to be true, a rejection of the things I’ve been taught are Good and Right.
It felt like a rejection of kindness and empathy. It felt like people saying it doesn’t matter if cruel rhetoric mocks the vulnerable, dismisses suffering, or stokes fear and anger. It felt like a rejection of the idea that selflessness, sacrifice, and care for others are virtues. It felt like a rejection of truth and justice, and an embrace of something I can’t recognize as progress.
It’s easy — and tempting — to paint a broad picture of a monolithic group, intent on tearing down everything that isn’t white, male, straight, or Christian. And while that may represent a portion of those who think today is a good day, it’s not all.
I have friends and loved ones who think today is a good day, and that makes my heart ache. I know these are good people. I know they love deeply and have empathy in their hearts. I just wish and hope they will extend that care to more people.
I personally believe that the world has never been made worse by an excess of love and empathy.
Author Jason Pargin said recently that if you believe in and champion a cause, it’s your responsibility to do so without being obnoxious. Obnoxiousness doesn’t bring people into your cause, and too often, people use causes as an excuse to fulfill their own need to be obnoxious.
I don’t want to take away anyone’s anger — whether it’s anger at today, anger at this post, or anger at the state of everything. If your reaction is to rage against the system and tear it all down, that’s an understandable response, and it’s not mine to take from you.
I also get the frustration of feeling, “We tried that already, and yet nothing changed.” That anger is real and it’s justified. Anger can be a powerful force so long as it becomes a furnace where transformation is shaped, not one that incinerates everything that comes near, including those who stand with you.
My hope for you is that your anger becomes a forge that builds the world you want to see, not just a reaction to the one we’re in. Use that energy to act, to speak, and to fight, and let it come from a place of hope and determination. It doesn’t mean being passive. It doesn’t mean giving grace where it isn’t deserved. It means recognizing that change happens not merely through destruction, but through the creation of something better.
Don’t let it be lost that I do indeed feel hurt, anger, and dread about today and the next four years. I’m going to remind myself not to alienate others — especially those who aren’t too far gone to change their minds or hearts.
To anyone who might respond to this post with a laugh react: this isn’t a game. You’ve aligned yourself with policies that will cause real harm to me, to my loved ones, and to countless others. If you’re indifferent to that suffering or find it amusing, then you’ve chosen cruelty, and I have nothing more to say to you so long as that is your view of the world, of me. If that’s who you are, please unfriend yourself, because you are not my friend.
But to those who voted with hesitation, frustration, or uncertainty — to those who are already questioning whether this was the right choice, those who do not revel in cruelty or wish to pull the ladder up — I want you to know the door is open. Change is always possible, and it begins with listening, learning, and extending care to people beyond your immediate circle.
I will draw boundaries with folks who need to be kept at a distance, but I cannot easily write anyone off completely. I am not a religious man, but I hope that those who thought this was the spiritually correct choice will also reflect on the story of Pharaoh’s hardened heart and all that it cost him.
***
After the election, I had a conversation with my mother. Frustrated and disillusioned, I told her, “I don’t see how so many people can be okay with being terrible to others.”
She said to me, “I know. But you can’t let that change you.”
Mom, I’m going to do my best.
I hope you will, too.
