I wrote this before falling asleep this morning. I wanted to look it over sober before posting it.
“I wanna say I’m just paranoid, but I’m not.” - Jeff Rosenstock
It’s 5:00 am, Wednesday, November 6, 2024. I didn’t get up early, I stayed up too late. It was election night, and I always stay up too late on election night.
I went for a walk. It was a short walk, just around the block. I couldn’t get to sleep after the results came in. I knew the Democrats would fail on some level, but I still fell for some polls.
It’s not that I really wanted her to win. To say she’s not my preferred candidate is a severe understatement. Nevertheless, the Democrats have placed themselves in the coveted role of vanguard for our democracy. As a fascist threat loomed over the country, they were the ones in the place of power, tasked with preventing this threat. They are the status quo. I despise the status quo, but I despise the fascists more. I voted for the status quo when I got off work.
I followed the slow trickle of results in the company of friends online. We joked throughout the night, but our jokes got darker as the results became inevitable.
Eventually, it was just me, stuck alone with the results. While I knew the Democrats would fail (I thought it would be through a narrow, pathetic victory or through a narrow, pathetic defeat), I didn’t think they’d lose the popular vote. I didn’t think they’d fail this spectacularly.
Perhaps it’s the country. Perhaps it’s the people in it. Perhaps we desire the suppression of our neighbor. Perhaps we want to cleanse the country of the Other – the immigrant, the homeless, the Arab, the queer. On some level I refuse to believe this. On another level, it seems obvious.
I went for a walk. As I left my apartment, I removed a security bar from under the door knob – a safety measure my girlfriend purchased due to her anxiety and unfortunate experiences in her past. I try my best to remember to keep it in place at night, despite it not coming naturally. I’m forgetful, and I don’t have a natural fear of intruders, but I try my best to remember out of respect for her.
Drunkenly, I walked around the block. Occasionally, I would feel a jolt of fear at the thought of a police officer confronting me for walking around late at night. This would occasionally happen in the small town I grew up in.
I walked toward a nearby park, but as I approached, I saw someone walking in my direction. I wondered what someone else would be doing out this late, as if I had any reason to be walking around so late either. A part of me was afraid the figure would confront me, so I turned around. I caught myself looking back over my shoulder unconsciously.
It’s silly, really. It’s silly to imagine anyone cares about me walking. And yet they often do. I remember having security called on me in college because I was walking around on the phone outside my dorm late at night. I seemed “suspicious.” It’s a carceral logic deep within our country – a desire to call the cops, to intervene in anything that feels Other. Ultimately, this is what both candidates were. Cops.
And it doesn’t matter how much the Other suffers. It doesn’t matter how desperate the Other is. A large portion of this country wishes for the mass deportation of the Other. They bring crime, you see. They infect our blood.
And our vanguard, our heroes of democracy. They’re not far off from this sentiment. You saw the campaign, as the Democrats chose to endorse “strengthening” our borders. They don’t care much about suffering either way. I saw the way many mocked and laughed at the Palestinians outside of the national convention. The sickness is in them.
And in this carceral country, in this carceral culture, I feel my own carceral mind damaged and paranoid. I don’t have as much trust as I used to. Perhaps this is that same fear of the Other growing in me as I look over my shoulder.
When I got back, I placed the security bar under the doorknob. For the first time, I did this not out of respect for my girlfriend’s wishes, but out of my own fear.
I hope I’m just paranoid.