ELIZABETH REED WRITES ON MEDIUM
You Are Invited to the Most Anticipated Event Since 2016
Election Night 2020
By Elizabeth Reed
Oct 31, 2020
To: Action Alert Group
Time: 8:00 P.M.
Place: Your device
Hillary Clinton’s supporters wore white pantsuits to the polls in 2016. In pandemic-2020 no one cares what you wear. But don’t associate fashion apathy with voting apathy. That infamous election catapulted Americans from their leather recliners and switched their channels from passive observation to active participation. I know, because I am one of them.
Guests are welcome
The utopian years of the Obama presidency lulled me into a comfortable retreat from political activism. But on November 8, 2016, I vowed to oppose Donald J. Trump every day he occupied the White House. Friends asked me to share my daily actions. They told their friends, and through word of mouth, we now number 300-plus Americans nationwide, from Alaska to Florida, Kentucky to California. I wasn’t expecting a big crowd, but like a rogue high school party, it just kept growing.
Entertainment Show and Tell
Using my action alert template — concise synopsis with one doable act — share your favorite action from the past almost-four years (or memorabilia such as my Trump-face splat ball.) Please observe a two-minute limit for your presentation. If you go over, I will have to mute you, maybe, sort of — depends on how wimpy or courageous I feel. The wannabe-emperor’s decimation of environmental protections, callous lack of concern about Covid-19, bromances with despots like Putin and Bolsonaro, and attacks on equal rights for anyone who is not white, rich, Christian, heterosexual, handicapped or female have provided a plethora of decisions to defy.
Most Memorable Actions:
- Writing to Mme. Brigitte Macron, wife of French President Emmanuel Macron, to excuse DJT’s boorish comments and ogling
- The exhausting thirty-one days of fighting the repeal of the Affordable Care Act
- Donating to Planned Parenthood on Mike Pence’s birthday with mailed acknowledgement sent to him
In my emails to you, I have restrained myself in referring to Republicans. Collectively we have inhaled deeply too many times to expel the venom of desire for revenge. On Election Night, unlock your closet full of Trumpnomers and text them in!
Text Code: TANGERINETYRANT
- The 1980’s Screwdriver: Sanction-free vodka poured over Trump-faced oranges hand squeezed by Putin (order at olig.archy) topped with cold war nostalgia.
- The HighWall: One liter of Ignorance, a bottle of Whiskey and ICE
- The Rumptini: An armful of toddler tantrums, a gallon of gin, garnished with tear-inducing onions
- Fake Alcohol (water) for Teetotalers
No Gifts Please
I am profoundly grateful for the gifts you have already bestowed — community, camaraderie, new friendships and slices of life from your home states. When I took time off for my husband’s cancer treatments, you buoyed my spirits. For my sixtieth birthday you overwhelmed me with $3,000 of donations to my daughter’s Juvenile Arthritis (a nineteen-year veteran) Fundraiser. Thank you.
The media surprised me with gifts as well. My sign “Tweet Women with Respect” for the Women’s March on Washington went viral. I am delighted to see it popping up in protests. And I’ll never forget my debut on national television as the 7:00 news anchor reported about Trump’s first full day in office, which was “met by one of the largest inauguration-related demonstrations. . . mostly women. . . this woman echoing today’s themes of solidarity and defiance” and then flashed a photo of Yours Truly with my sign.
What Remains to Be Done
The post-election roar of anger launched my first published personal essay, “Donald Trump Is Cancer” in Entropy. Trump’s election provoked the same reactions I had to my three cancer diagnoses — panic, indulgence in wine and chocolate, followed by a determination to do everything possible to banish the beast from my life. Like radiation, this administration burned through the progressive accomplishments of the last eight years. I read every report. Like chemotherapy, 45’s distasteful tactics to repel immigrants and his pompous promotion of America as a superior power to our allies induced constant nausea. One treatment protocol remains — surgery. We must excise Trump from the White House. Only then will we have gutted the immediate political threat to our country’s health. But as a survivor I have no illusions that I, or this country, will be cured. Evil can lie dormant, waiting for a new malignancy to trigger a recurrence. We must remain vigilant.
What to bring
Aspirin to relieve the headaches of listening to pundits.
Binoculars to read the electoral map as our eyesight weakens with the waning of the night. Blanket and pillow. No one expects a final tally that night.
Commitment to continued activism to prevent another Trump.
Most important — bring Hope. Hope that nations will forgive the U.S. for 45’s ignorance. Hope that immigrant families will be reunited and treated as the human beings they are. Hope that a rational approach to the coronavirus will halt the deadly desolation. Hope that politicians will acknowledge the insidious racism in our country and act to abolish this stain on America.
So join me on Tuesday and let’s raise a glass to Hope, not just for Election Night, but for the years to come. Cheers!