1 week Ago
Dread. That’s a word I rarely use, and I realize in the past when I’ve used it like “I dread getting a root canal next week” that I wasted what was just a little bit of anxiety on an ultimately painless procedure. Now the word is coming to me again and again and I realize that dread is a subset of anxiety taken to a dark and scary level.
The image I get in my mind is a hooded man sitting in a dark corner staring at me menacingly through little eye holes...
something Stephen King would conjure up. So, what do I dread? I dread the idea that marginalized folks who already struggle may encounter more harassment and violence. They may see laws change and may have fewer choices.
Some are dear friends and I want them to have full and happy lives. I dread that environmental protections may get rolled back. More public lands may be opened up to fracking, drilling, and mining.
Having been to most of our gorgeous national parks, it makes my heart hurt to think that some of this land may be destroyed, and along with it the wildlife and vegetation that thrives there now. What if climate change is not considered a real concern even though it comes with an increase in natural disasters that destroy property and lives? I dread that any of the important steps we’ve taken forward for women’s rights and independence could be erased. I took it for granted when I was younger that I had reproductive choices, but now young women are not guaranteed that.
You may say that in Connecticut they should be able to choose what they want to do with their bodies, but what if a young woman goes to college or a new job in another state? Will she get home in time for the emergency surgery she might need to save her life? Will she be punished for crossing state lines to get this life-saving care? Could her doctor be arrested? And, what if a nationwide ban on abortion is implemented? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I dread that many people in this country are now habituated to hatred and division. It’s becoming OK to be racist, sexist, homophobic and just plain rude to people who are different than you are.
It’s even okay to attack them verbally or physically. I dread that we are seeing the erosion of empathy. People increasingly are saying “What about me?” instead of “What about them?” It’s getting harder and harder for some to relate to those who don’t look, speak, or pray the same way.
I dread all of this division. It’s breaking up romantic relationships, families, co-workers, and friends. I could see a possibility where people only associate with those who are in their “club” and reject any attempts to meet and get to know new folks–including their neighbors.
This is happening already. I dread that our reputation on the world stage may be irrevocably tarnished. Diplomacy is always a delicate dance, and strongmen leaders are usually not adept at the necessary skills of negotiation and cooperation.
You might be saying that “dread” is a very heavy word to use, but in the words of John Lennon, “I’m not the only one.” I’ve talked to folks who also use the word “gutted” which is a perfect British word for feeling empty, drained, and hollowed out. So, what could alleviate this dread? I’m hoping that the tough talk will become more nuanced, thoughtful, and balanced.
I’m hoping that enough of us speak out and make it absolutely clear that we don’t want to go back to a time when people’s rights were limited or non-existent or when there was unregulated pollution of our air, water and soil. This is not a time to hide your head in the sand and say “Check in with me four years from now.” It takes a collective to make change–and those of us who have more privileges than other folks must be part of that collective.
I hope this feeling of dread will go away but I’m not sure it will anytime soon. For many of us the worst time for dread is when we wake up in the middle of the night and we can’t go back to sleep thinking about all of the possible dire consequences awaiting us. This is putting major stress on many and I wish I had more answers for how to make the dread go away.
Hang in there, folks. Elizabeth Keifer lives in West Hartford.
