If you know me in real life, then you already know that I have posted about my disappointment — and my deep disgust — regarding the state of things right now.
I have written a ton of guides, rants, and mini-essays, which I’ve posted all over Instagram, Threads, Bluesky, and TikTok.
I’ve also drafted an essay for Medium that I plan on posting this weekend. (If you follow me over there, be on the lookout for that.)
I’m exhausted. But I’m still choosing to be active. I’ve done all sorts of productive things — donating to UNRWA, canceling my Amazon Prime membership, canceling my New York Times subscription (and blessing them out on my way out the door), donating to refugees, donating to farm workers, and donating to reproductive health coalitions.
And I’m going to keep doing more. I won’t back down.
But … I’ve come here today to rant.
Everywhere else, I’ve posted information on what we all can do to uplift marginalized people. I’ve also posted messages of support and solidarity for folks who are marginalized — and I’ve told them to take time to grieve and to rest, and to never let any of the Sore Winners guilt them into pity.
What I’m trying to say here is that, within a year or two, some of the people who are celebrating now will be on their knees, begging us more sensible folk for help. And grace. And forgiveness. And money.
I have said, time and time again, that Black women, disabled people, trans folks, single women and single mothers, neurodivergent people, and migrants will be the first ones who Sore Winners beg for help — because the Sore Winners expect marginalized people to have endless reserves of sympathy.
I have encouraged marginalized people to think carefully about who they help — because, much like a drowning victim pulling their would-be rescuer down with them, you have to watch out for danger, anger, and retaliation.
If you are marginalized, and you are put in a position where you can help a Leopard-Face-Eating victim, I encourage you to prioritize your own safety, first. You can still help the leopard-attack survivor. But don’t let them make you do it at the expense of your safety.
This week, I have written and read and listened and reflected and opened my wallet and shared information and …
I have done a lot, already. But I’m going to pace myself and work hard, to keep doing more. We’re running a marathon, now, and we can’t sit down now. The race is about to start, and I’ve done my stretches this week — so I’ll be ready to run. But we can’t afford to get worn out. We have to pace ourselves and do good work.
In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about how I’m disappointed, but not surprised.
Living in the upper part of the mid-south means that I hear lots of lunacy on a daily basis.
Recently, I had a conversation with someone in my extended family network. This person is a stereotypical rural Kentuckian. Now, for some reason, the conversation turned to Walmart.
I mentioned that Walmart once had a snack bar where they “served up disgusting shit, like Frito Pies and Skyline Chili.”
Their Economix Anxiety senses must’ve tingled when I said that!
But I made it even worse when I (needlessly) added something about how that’s the kind of stuff heavyset people from Ohio like to eat.
I had my own Charles Barkley churros moment. Not proud of it — but it happened.
Now, for the record, I think mocking people because of their weight is punching down, a cheap shot, generally unnecessary, etc., etc.
But in that moment, I made a surface-level statement. I pictured a clutch of heavyset men in NFL jerseys gathered around a kitchen table piled with nearly-empty casserole dishes and cans of Natural Light.
At no point in time did I say any of these words: Republican, white, conservative, Christian, working-class, middle-class, or MAGA.
I don’t think I even mentioned NFL dude-bros or midlife crisis munchies, though I was surely thinking both of those things.
And get this:
As soon as I said that bit about Ohio, this Rural White Voter had the gall to (1) call me a Reverse Bigot and (2) managed to incorporate the n-word into their “takedown” of me and mine.
I didn’t argue. I sighed and walked away.
I have a feeling the next four years are going to be filled with Sore Winners taking Angry Victory Laps, and then “coveting our prayers and grace and understanding” when things go poorly for them.
My advice — as mentioned above — is to protect your peace, salvage your sanity, secure your safety, and help people within your community.
Help the most vulnerable people. Help disabled people. Help Black women and femmes. Help Black children. Help neurodivergent people. Help trans and 2-spirit people. Help international adoptees. Help homeless people. Help migrant farm and factory workers. Help Indigenous women and femmes.
Help all of the people who are going to be overlooked and hurt — people who are already hurting.
And help other like-minded Progressives.
If you have any energy left after doing all of that, you may choose to extend some grace to the people who chose this bullshit.
But never feel obligated to help someone who would kick sand in your face simply because your existence as a marginalized person makes them feel Economically Anxious.
So … that’s where I’m at, right now. I needed to rant, I needed to remind y’all to help each other, and I needed to remind y’all to protect yourselves.
Oh, and while I’m at it? Cancel the damn Amazon Prime membership. You won’t even miss it.
Jamais Mayville 