“She is not dead who may eternal rise; for in strange aeons even death may die.”

Bianca
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Kamala is fine, she is tough, she is fierce, and so are we. This is not the end, my dears, we have only just begun. Be brave.

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“That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.” H.P. Lovecraft as Abdul Alhazred, The Mad Poet

The title took the longest time. I usually wait to write a title until I see what pours forth from my sometimey reservoir of fickle talents; it usually takes some time to find how far from the theme my prosaic meandering have led the narrative. Wow. That sounded like Mayo Pete. I was struck with boredom in the middle of that prolix sentence, so I wandered away on a google trip, searched for domain names, found an audiobook, and got stuck on Twitter. I even lost the theme I had in mind for this “farewell, but never goodbye” to Kamala Devi Harris and her Presidential campaign. I should have written it down. It is now 5 days later. 

Kamala suspended her campaign a while ago, and just like the Betos before us, the shock and dismay has been palpable, and the grief feels heavy and deep. I had hinted my suspicions that this may come to pass in the last post I wrote, but many of us were taken by surprise, knocked off balance, perhaps even in denial.

We didn’t think it would come so soon. 

This piece will not have a theme. I suppose it doesn’t even need one. It certainly will not be an autopsy on all the media perceived flaws of her campaign, a think piece on the historicity of her impossible candidacy, or grave lamentations on the unfair treatment she received from nearly every player in the politics game. I wanted to talk about where we go from here, what will Kamala do, what about the K-Hive who have become so close?

Will we scatter like a pack of skittles on the steps? Do we shut it down and join Liz so we can have a woman, any woman, even if it’s not the woman we came for, or even one we like? Should we attach ourselves to another campaign and become something stupid like K-Hive4Pete? K-Hive for Liz? K-Hive for BERNIE?? Gods forbid. K-Hive lives on, we refused to go away. 

Let me tell you, tho, the other campaigns are desperate for us to come their way, oh they are trying it so hard. They want everything of Kamala’s, they don’t just want it, they NEED it, and that’s simply too fucking bad. We are not a top down movement where I tell people what to do, everyone is free to move to any campaign…besides BERNIE’S. If you go there, do not come back to visit, we hate you now, traitor. Lol, just kidding, we don’t hate you. But, still. Don’t come back. 

It has been rough without Kamala. I looked around last week and witnessed my mentions filling up with the most dreaded of social cyber villains this side of Ukraine: The Berners. All I could do was recall that the totality of what I had wanted at the end of 2016 was for the Bernie Bros (as they were called then) to go the entire fuck away, just shut up for a little while, and also to leave ME the complete, whole, entire fuck alone. Did that happen?

Hell no. So, why should WE go away? We shouldn’t and we won’t.

As Berners invited me to join Bernie by insulting me, threatening my friends, trashing Kamala, attacking Hillary, calling Obama a war criminal, and shitting on the Democratic Party, I was making my own plans. I had no intention of doing anything other than what my plan B consisted of, obviously. Plan B: Move to Biden and harass him into making Kamala his VP, of course. I mean, people seem to find us just as annoying as Bernie Bros now, so why not use our annoyingness for an actual result, unlike those dorks? I need someone close by Biden to speak for my group and our interests. Biden is a nice guy; but he is also a guy who may not be on the cutting edge, and probably doesn’t really know what black women my age need. That was diplomatic as fuck how I said it, be quiet.

At some point someone mentioned that Kamala may HAVE HER OWN PLANS. What? WHY? Well, fine then, make your own choices, if you want to, see if I care. I just want her to have the option, and for her to be asked first, but honestly she doesn’t have to run for anything else; she’s already done the work.

Regardless, as a patriot, Kamala will have to understand that our need to have our interests represented is great, and that we need her to do the representing. We have love for Kamala, it’s been a long time since we have had a genuinely joyful person run for President. And I am not talking about the Stupid Joy of men like GWB; he was filled with the joy of myopic ignorance, like a child who cannot see the drowned bodies washing ashore from Katrina as he delights in the “heck of a job” his underling Brownie is failing at doing. More important than any love we may feel, is the trust we have in her ability to get the job done, and be accountable for the mishaps, mistakes, and missed opportunities. We trust her.

Trust. It is weird for me to use the word trust, because it took me a few years to trust Obama, who unfortunately is a MAN, and it was even longer until I felt comfortable saying that. I always loved Michelle; it was always HER I trusted to make sure he didn’t fuck everything up. This means I won’t feel comfortable unless there is someone there making sure Biden doesn’t fuck everything up too. Please consider the VP position, we can always flatter-coax-yell Biden into thinking that was always his only plan. Just joking! (No I’m not.)

This campaign was a flight for the ages. We strapped on our wings and took to the sky this Summer. Sadly, we flew too close to the heat of the sun, melting our wings. We flew on desperately, as only we knew how, on those misshapen appendages, just to plummet from the sky as those very wings that carried us aloft hardened, and sank us in the cool autumn breeze. And so we fell. And yes, it does hurt, we are tired, and it would be easier to stay down here than it would be to do anything else. Yet…It’s time to get up. We have work to do.

We don’t have time to mope about and lament the unfairness of it all, and quite frankly, if we look back we may become lost in the bitter winds of remembrance. Crying solves nothing, we don’t have time to feel sorry for ourselves, we are Black Women; so we shall rise. 

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

“What is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger.” –GRRM

Every loss in life is a type of death. Plans die, hopes die, dreams die, and so to shall we, one day, die. But for now, we are alive, so we must fight on and live, it’s time to get back to work, like Kamala. We may have the opportunity to resurrect her campaign, perhaps as a running mate to Biden, or maybe the 2024 cycle, or even 2028. Next time we will be prepared for the abuse, we will have cash on hand, we will have debunked every smear possible, and we will win.

We will rise again, harder and stronger. 

Here is Kamala back at work being BOSS AF, showing the nation exactly why so many of us placed our faith in her abilities.

Kamala is fine, she is tough, she is fierce, and so are we. This is not the end, my dears, we have only just begun. Be brave.

Do not go gentle into that good night
By Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I just want to say that I appreciate each and every one of you, you have been my backbone this year through an amazing amount of bullshit, and I wouldn’t have kept my sanity without you all.

Be Fierce, ALWAYS.

 

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