This was a pretty shit year. I don’t have any insight or salient thoughts, and I don’t want to enumerate all the ways in which it was shit, both universally and personally. It just was, and if it was shit for you too, then I’m sorry.
I’m not interested in saying “I hope 2016 is over soon.” 2017 promises to be worse. Other than the people who passed away this year, who cannot be any more deceased than they already are, the things that happen and problems that exist promise to get worse before they’re better. The U.S. and U.K., just to name two, are significantly more dangerous for anyone but white, straight, cisgender men, and next year and likely years to come will be an exercise in finding out just how much more dangerous.
But what I also don’t want to do is retreat to a personal bubble, to hunker down until the storm has passed. I don’t want to abandon fighting because it is safer and easier, and easier most of all because I understand how to do it. Fighting is hard because it’s not yet clear how. Because just saying words, whether out loud or on the internet, in TV or books or in conversations with friends and family and strangers, clearly does not matter.
I don’t know what will matter. But I suppose 2017 is my year to find out. If I do, I’ll be sure to let you know. Do me a favor and do the same for me.