My Thought And Prayers Are With You
I don’t know what it’s like to be sick, but I do know what it is like to be a man who has been diagnosed with an illness. For me and many others on the autism spectrum, our brains are wired differently and we often have difficulty functioning in social situations or communicating effectively with others. My parents worked hard to provide health insurance for my brother and I since birth because they knew that their children might need extra support throughout life due to their disability. We had access to doctors, therapists, teachers—you name it! But when my parents voted for Trump last November (and again this past weekend), I was shocked by how little empathy they seemed to have for those with disabilities similar to mine who might not have had access or means available at birth just like myself.
Do you know what it is like to have an illness but too many resources at your disposal to not access them?
Do you know what it is like to have an illness but too many resources at your disposal to not access them? I’ll tell you: it is pretty great.
I’ve had a couple of health problems over the years, and when I was diagnosed with these issues, I had the luxury of choosing between two doctors who were equally qualified and trained in the same specialty (a luxury my father didn’t have).
With healthcare costs rising, some are forced to choose between whether or not they can afford their life-saving medication or if they can pay their rent this month.
We live in a country with universal healthcare—which means everyone has access to physicians and hospitals regardless of their income or finances.
Me either.
I can’t imagine living in a world where I am not only able to access basic healthcare (and the luxury of choosing between doctors), but also how to pay for said healthcare.
I do not know how people who do not have health insurance cope with things like broken bones, infections and chronic conditions. I don’t know how they manage their mental health without the luxury of therapy sessions or medications from their doctor when the stress gets too much. And I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like for them when someone close to them falls ill and needs care that is beyond their means.
I can’t imagine living in a world where I am not only able to access basic healthcare (and the luxury of choosing between doctors), but also how to pay for said healthcare.
I can’t imagine living in a world where I am not only able to access basic healthcare (and the luxury of choosing between doctors), but also how to pay for said healthcare. Our system is not fair, and there are many people who do not have access to it. Instead, these people rely on emergency rooms and waitlists because they have no other option.
I’m lucky enough that I don’t have this problem—not yet at least—but there are too many people who don’t feel as lucky as me or even have a choice when it comes down to health care. They’re trapped in waiting rooms running out of supplies with no end in sight or being forced into bankruptcy by medical bills after an accident or illness happens without warning
I can’t imagine the world of “pre-existing conditions” or what life is like knowing that one day, I might be discriminated against by an insurance company because of something as natural and uncontrollable as my body.
I can’t imagine the world of “pre-existing conditions” or what life is like knowing that one day, I might be discriminated against by an insurance company because of something as natural and uncontrollable as my body.
As a member of the LGBTQIA community, who has experienced discrimination in many forms throughout my life, it can be difficult to see our rights being threatened by policies that are meant to protect us from discrimination. By nominating Judge Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court vacancy left by Justice Kennedy’s retirement, President Trump has shown his support for policies that discriminate against those with pre-existing medical conditions. In addition to supporting these harmful policies, Judge Kavanaugh has also expressed anti-LGBTQIA views in previous decisions he has made on cases involving same-sex marriage and abortion rights.
So when my Republican friends tell me that they are voting for Trump this November, it’s hard for me to reconcile our friendship with their apparent disregard for the millions of others who do not share our privilege and will be harmed by his policies.
I have friends on both sides of the aisle, and I love them all. But it’s difficult for me to reconcile our friendship with their apparent disregard for the millions of others who do not share our privilege and will be harmed by his policies.
It’s a tough thing to admit, but as a white woman with access to education and opportunity, I’m part of a privileged demographic that will likely benefit from Trump’s presidency—at least in the short term.
In other words: The Republican party has no regard for people who aren’t like them (read: white men).
When I hear someone say that “all lives matter,” I have no choice but to believe that they have never known what it is like to feel marginalized, silenced, or persecuted because of who they are.
All lives matter.
I hear this phrase quite often, and I cannot help but wonder what people mean when they say it. “All lives matter” seems like a neutral statement—a description of an objective truth that transcends race, gender, sexuality, or religion. But there are many ways to interpret the phrase “all lives matter,” and I strongly believe that every interpretation is either inaccurate or untruthful.
In order for something to be true, as opposed to being merely accurate (i.e., saying that someone is tall when in fact they are tall), it must reflect reality as it actually exists (rather than simply reflecting how things appear on their surface). And so if one says “all lives matter” but then refuses to acknowledge the reality of systemic racism and its devastating effects on communities of color—or if one says “all lives matter” while ignoring injustices against women and other marginalized groups—then such a person has not only failed at stating something true; they have also engaged in activism which promotes falsehoods over facts.*
To those who call for peace and unity during times of tragedy, but offer resistance at every turn when confronted with someone else’s lived experience that does not align with your beliefs, you have no idea what it means to compromise and care about others.
To those who call for peace and unity during times of tragedy, but offer resistance at every turn when confronted with someone else’s lived experience that does not align with your beliefs, you have no idea what it means to compromise and care about others.
To those who say that we should never forget the victims of this tragedy and stand up for what we believe in, yet refuse to acknowledge that each person grieves in their own way: you don’t know how important it is to listen to other people’s experiences or even consider the possibility that maybe—just maybe—you’re wrong. You don’t understand how much progress can be made if people stop being so stubbornly opinionated. You don’t see how important it is to reach out when someone has lost a loved one; you just think they should “move on” like everything will get better after ten minutes (or 24 hours or 7 days) pass by.
To those who claim that all Americans need to come together and stand behind their President, how do you expect us to stand next to you when we know that you’ll run away with the first opportunity?
I’ve heard this argument repeated by many people: “We need to come together and stand behind our President.”
I ask you, how do you expect us to stand next to you when we know that you’ll run away with the first opportunity? You’re not a leader. In fact, I’m pretty sure most of your friends are just as scared and confused as me. It’s easy for me to imagine them trying their best not to say anything at all because they don’t want any trouble from anybody who might be watching—and then being quick on their feet in case danger does arise.
I am not against people who have voted for Trump, or those who don’t understand why we are protesting. I am here to offer my support and understanding as we move forward together in this country. We all have a voice and we all deserve to be heard.