The light will return

by Paula Sophia
Special issues Columnist

When I was a kid, I used to have this dream.

I’m walking down a street on a blue-sky day, birds singing, dogs playing in yards, other kids buzzing by on their bicycles, ringing their bells, laughing and shouting, the sun warm on my neck. Then I see this dark patch in the sky looming larger second by second, and it looks like it is coming toward me. No matter where I go, no matter how fast I run, the darkness keeps falling upon me until, finally, it envelopes me, and I’m fighting it, struggling against it like the darkness is a wet blanket, hot and smothering. I’m losing my breath when I awaken, gasping and sweating.

I have been told this dream may be interpreted as a pre-birth memory, my mind’s attempt to reconcile the experience of the womb before I could comprehend the world in concrete terms. It seems plausible. The experience of birth must be frustrating, confining, wet, and smothering. Then comes a stark light and gasping for breath.

I have felt this darkness falling upon me several times in my life: the day my parents’ marriage fell apart, the day I deployed to the Middle East to participate in Operations Desert Shield/Storm, the day my own first marriage fell apart, the day I got kicked out of my church, the morning of September 11, 2001, and the day I began to fight for my job at the Oklahoma City Police Department. The darkness descended upon me, and it felt like I would never escape.

Obviously, at this writing I have escaped the darkness every time it enveloped me, but not without struggle, sometimes very personal, sometimes very public. I have been marked by darkness, tempered by it, wounded by it, yet I am still standing, still full of ideals, and still capable of hope.

On the morning of Wednesday November 9, after a sleepless night, I felt the darkness fall upon me, again. The election of Donald Trump has shaken me to the core, igniting nightmares, both in waking and in slumber. It is hard to imagine how I’m going to fare for these next few years.

My imagination conjures persecution by triumphant Trump followers, being arrested for using a public restroom, and the establishment of religious freedom laws that legalize discrimination against people like me. Those are some of the things that can tangibly come into being, the things already promised by Donald Trump and Mike Pence and their cohort of partners.

Then there are the real nightmares, about things going off the rails, about registering targeted groups, about placing them in ghettos, about… Well, you know, if you know your history, that is.

During this time between election and inauguration, we have an opportunity to seize the moment to fortify our community, come together to share our stories, seek commonality, and build support. Retreating into our separate spaces cannot be an option.

We are stronger if we stand together as a community. We are stronger when we share and serve our humanity with each other. Incrementally, the light will emerge like the minutes of days after a winter solstice, and soon enough, we will be able to breathe again, feel the sun on our faces, and enjoy the resilience of our community, closer than ever before, wiser, and stronger.  

Copyright 2016 The Gayly – December 9, 2016 @ 4:20 p.m.