No change in West Virginia as America takes a turn for the worse
The preliminary election results are in.
Unsurprisingly — yet no less disappointingly — Republicans swept all major West Virginia offices, from the U.S. Senate all the way down to the West Virginia Senate and House of Delegates, where they hold a supermajority.
In other words, nothing will change in West Virginia. Roads will continue to crumble, especially in Morgantown because the Legislature hates us. The Department of Corrections will continue to be severely understaffed. Funding for public education will continue to be diverted to private schools and homeschooling efforts, syphoning our tax dollars to out-of-state, profit-driven “education” sources. Our economy will continue to flounder as focus remains on coddling fossil fuels — which primarily employ out-of-state workers — and expanding retail jobs that don’t pay a living wage. Reproductive health care will continue to be chipped away as providers flee a state where providing standard, or even life-saving treatment, could result in the loss of their jobs or licenses and/or fines or jail time. Individual rights will be stripped one layer at a time as state government dictates what kind of medical intervention we can receive and how we can present ourselves in public (and even in private). Hate and fear against immigrants will continue to be unnecessarily and irrationally stoked. The wall between church and state will be bulldozed in the name of “Christian” patriarchy. And the continued mass exodus of our state’s youth, taking with them our best, our brightest, and our hope for a better future.
Montani semper liberi.*
*Mountaineers are always free — only if you are a white, Christian, cisgender, straight man.
And unfortunately — and surprisingly — the rest of the country has gone the same way.
To say I was shocked and dismayed to see Donald Trump won the presidency would be an understatement. Even to say that I was gutted and horrified doesn’t seem strong enough.
I can’t wrap my mind around so many people choosing a man — a felon and rapist — who has said he wants to be a dictator, who wants to dismantle our democratic institutions, who wants to imprison his political opponents and critics (or worse), who has given away national secrets to foreign emissaries … The list is so long that I could fill the entire rest of this blog. (And there’s a good chance that if you’re reading this, I’m preaching to the choir.)
Generally, I err on the side of compassion and empathy, but today I’m finding that hard.
Truthfully, I’m mad.
I’m mad that my country chose hate. I’m mad that people I know and love chose their perception of the economy over my human rights. I’m mad that I am looking at a future in which I have fewer freedoms and protections than my mother and even my grandmothers.
There’s a part of me that is maliciously waiting to rub it in the faces of Trump voters when Elon Musk — who is allegedly going to be tapped to be a “government efficiency czar” — intentionally crashes the U.S. economy and devalues the U.S. dollar; when Trump’s tariffs cause prices to skyrocket; and when Trump’s mass deportation of both legal and illegal immigrants disembowels agriculture and construction.
But there’s also a big part of me that is grieving: already mourning a future filled with economic hardship for everyday Americans, with record-breaking maternal deaths, with so many people living their lives in genuine fear for their safety and wellbeing — myself and many of my loved ones included.
It’s easier to be mad. Anger is hot and visceral; anger makes it easier to act. Sadness, grief — these are heavy. They weigh us down, make us want to curl into little protective balls. Anger can be worn like armor; embracing our grief means poking at our most tender, most vulnerable places.
I know I can’t hang on to the anger forever. It’s not healthy, and it’s not the kind of person I want to be. So when I have managed to push aside the anger, I’ve defaulted to a kind of willful ignorance, where I refuse to acknowledge this new reality. And that’s not healthy either.
But I’m not fully ready to wade through my sadness just yet. I’ll get to that in a few days, when I can find a quiet moment to lance those heart wounds.
I know that there will be a time to fight back against this rising wave of tyranny and hate. To organize and mobilize and engage. But I need to work through my grief first — all its stages — so when that time comes, I’m acting not from a place of anger but resolve. Not from a place of hate for what is happening, but from a place of determination to work toward a better future.
And when we’ve all worked through our grief, I hope you’ll join me there.
J. Nelson - Writer 