12:30 AM on January 20, 2021
Honestly, I keep forgetting. Then I’m like, oh right his Twitter account was removed or oh hey those white militia men are still down the 95 or oh damn her middle name is “Devi.” Then I am brought back in to this pivotal moment. Ever so briefly shook.
In less than 12 hours I will likely feel more comfortable speaking the name of the President of the United States than I have in four years. In less than 12 hours the first South Asian Black Woman will be the Vice President of the United States. In less than 12 hours most people I love will be breathing easier. In less than 12 hours white rage might demonstrate even more violently. In less than 12 hours I will still be the same Brown Woman in the same Black City advocating for the same Basic Human Rights that this dominant white hetero-patriarchal society deems to be Radical.
It is extremely difficult to focus on less than 12 hours from now because I am still in the past 12 hours. For the past 12 hours, I spent an extraordinary amount of energy doing my harm reduction community organizer best for a bill hearing to decriminalize drug paraphernalia in Maryland. For the past 12 hours, I squinted through attempts to relax and restore for the evening, stealing glances (and straight on engagement) with social media about this hearing and the next police reform hearing and the next harm reduction hearing and the next. For the past 12 hours, barely a brain synapse addressed the Presidential Inauguration. For the past 12 hours, you could have told me those darn white militia men were at it again and I would believe it without a moment’s hesitation.
I want to give a shit. These past four years have been more horrifying than I could have anticipated. I am a significantly transformed woman because and in spite of this Administration. Maybe I have strengthened my survival mechanism to set all my shits on fire, because I have not a one to give.
Catch me in 12 hours and maybe I’ll have something else to say.
rajani gudlavalleti 