Feminism Politics

Go On And Tell Me To “Get Over It”, You’re Only Fueling My Rage

Jessica Jones

Warning: this post is profanity laced, because while I am a lady and I try my best to maintain composure, sometimes nothing gets the point across better than dropping an f-bomb… or 42.

 

In case you haven’t been living on or near planet Earth in the past 2 1/2 months, the United States of America is going through a little bit of a change. It’s equivalent to the most hellish kind of puberty, but with old white guys putting their clammy hands straight up your vagina, making themselves nice and comfy inside, because that’s where they belong. Our 44th president, Barack “Mic Drop” Obama, has reached the end of his second term and must evacuate the White House to what we can all presume is a much greener pasture. He put up with tsunamis of political bullshit, mostly from the red side of the room, and did it all with more class than I think any of us could ever muster. The Republican-majority Congress held him down when he (and most of the rest of the nation) wanted to move on and up. Let’s better ourselves, let’s evolve, let’s be inclusive and give rights to people that they should already have. However, this was very difficult to accomplish because apparently a prerequisite to being a Capitol Hill politician is the ability to throw a temper tantrum when your lobbyists and shareholders aren’t happy. You must choose money over the people… you know… the ones that voted you into the job in the FIRST PLACE. But hey, I’m just a Midwestern peon, what do I know?

After wading through the Olympic-pool-sized pile of elephant dung that marked the last 8 years of legislative cock-blocks, brought to you (mostly) by the Grand Ole Party, Obama now has to hand off his legacy — and the nation — to a fucking brat. Let’s not sugar coat it; years from now when schoolchildren are presumably using the outdated, heavily religious texts that Mrs. DeVos put her Umbridge-like stamp of approval on, history will reflect that the Electoral College said “Let’s do this!” to a reality star whose middle name might very well be ‘Putin’. I can’t confirm this, just like Trump did when he went after Obama’s birth certificate illegitimacy, but it seems that the commonly accepted rule is that, if it’s on the internet, then it’s true. The truth started here, folks! I won’t forget about you all when I rise to the tip top of elite capitalism with my truthiness!

Ever since the results came in, it’s been a pretty steady back and forth of “He’s not my president” and “He IS your president, get over it”. While debate is great, this helps nobody. I don’t know if you recall the year 2008, when that young whippersnapper named Barack Obama became President of the United States, and, before he even lifted his hand off the Inauguration Bible, the fine folks in Congress were already proudly proclaiming how they were going to stop this man from doing his job. Fast forward to now, and those same people are telling me, a single white woman with barely $25 to her name, to not worry, to have faith, to… give Trump a chance.

are.you.fucking.kidding.me?

I had to sit here through 8 years of you bitching and moaning about a black President because, when we really get down to it, that’s what you were upset about. A black man was in charge, and your poor little brain couldn’t handle the fact that our country was progressing in a positive direction. Positive means up, in case you forgot, which wasn’t the direction we were headed in back in 2007. You want me to put faith into a man who has swindled his way to billionaire status, something we can’t fully confirm because he won’t release his fucking tax information. The last President to refuse to release tax information was Nixon (a Republican, I’d like to point out), and I’m pretty sure we all know how that Deep Throat Disaster ended. But hey, give the 6-time bankruptcy champ a chance. Give his cohort in future crimes, Mr. Michael “Oooh-dat-conversion-therapy-tho” Pence a chance, too! Humans with uteruses are simply baby factories, and it’s high time we remembered that. Once we can get back to our roots, we can make America — and white nationalism — great again! Let’s give that a chance, shall we?

I will give you a chance, Mr. Trump. I will. No matter how sarcastic and snarky and hellbent on destruction I am right now, I will give you a chance. My future depends on it. I’m not some idiot who is going to stomp around pretending that if I look away, the bad things won’t happen. No, no, I’m going to look at you dead in the eye while dialing my employees… I’m sorry… my representatives, when you do something that threatens me, my family, my friends, my planet and my future. I don’t want the current politicians in place to screw up, as much as it would warm my cold, liberal heart to see that happen, because it would affect most people in the U.S. and many outside of the country as well. This isn’t an internship where you can play around with the controls a bit to see how the ship steers. This position requires years of experience handling different parts of the ship controls, learning each nook and cranny, each time it’s broken down and how it was fixed, each part of the crew that’s walked through the ship’s halls and how the impacted the vessel’s navigation over the years. Right now though, the captain of the ship has no experience with any part of the ship. None.

Some think that hiring someone like Trump into the highest position in the free world is a great idea, that we need something new. In regards to that sentiment, let me ask you a sincere question: are you telling me you’d be perfectly fine going under the knife for a triple bypass and the person who is leading the surgery has only ever had dinner with fellow surgeons? They absorbed “knowledge” about human anatomy and by the “grace of God”, they can cut you open, perform the surgery perfectly, and have you back on the road to recovery in no time. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, delusional if you would agree to this procedure. Or you have a death wish, which is your own choice. If you want to put your life in the hands of a WebMD certified “doctor”, then by all means, let natural selection do it’s work. Personally, I want someone with years of education and experience, with both failures and successes so that they know how to handle a variety of situations to give me the best possible outcome. In this scenario, that outcome would be living through the procedure and surviving for many years after. A real, educated, experienced doctor can make that outcome a much more probable reality than someone who has only practiced pulling plastic butterflies out of Cavity Sam’s body in Operation.

And while normally I’d say “to each their own”, as you are your own person and welcome to make your own decisions (for now), your decision to elect a narcissistic, egotistical cretin into the highest office in the goddamn United States of America has now affected me and I don’t like it. As a matter of fact, I hate it. You brought me into your little game where you push down all those who have been able to stand up in the past 8 years and I will not participate. What I will do is dissent. I will be that annoying woman on your Facebook constantly bringing all the injustices to light, advocating that you ALSO do something about them. In between the random memes that I simply can’t resist, I will post what disgusting legislature is about to be passed, urging to the point of annoyance for you to call your representatives. I’m going to speak up and out, because next to running for and winning public office, this is how I perform my civic duty. I’m going to fight politicians, friends, and family with my words, holding you accountable for what you’ve brought down on all of us, willing or not. You made a decision to rocket us back to 1953 (or 1984, since this seems like some fucked up Orwellian wet dream) and I’m not putting on that dainty little lace apron you want me to wear so that I can make you a sandwich. You go make your own fucking sandwich and I’ll make my own 7 course meal to power me through all this rage.

So carry on with telling me to “get over it”. You’re only helping me Hulk out, and sometimes a delicate little flower like me needs that push.

*A former version of this post mistakenly referenced that President Richard Nixon was a democrat.*

Day job pays the bills, night job keeps the blood pumping. Life is made of cupcakes, naps and pixels.

2 Comments
  • indigo blue

    A righteous rant! But, one big error: Nixon was absolutely not a Democrat.

    • Shannon Beaty

      Holy. Crap. Thank you! I don’t know what possessed me to write that but I appreciate the catch, and the compliment. 🙂

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