Donald is a Gift

During this whole political season, I’ve heard so many people say they’re embarrassed, saddened, or ashamed that this ugliness is what we’ve come to. And I totally understand.  It’s sickening.  It’s cringeable.

But I’m starting to think Trump is the best gift our country could have received right now, because I perceive that his over-the-top misogyny is turning into a catalyst for real evolution of our culture.

As I’ve been reading the words of women all over the country who have been speaking out in incredibly brave, vulnerable ways over the past week or so, I, like so many others, have had a whole bunch of memories of serious ick come to the surface.  A lot of them are times when I played nice because ‘nothing really bad’ happened. Some are worse than that.

But yesterday, I suddenly discovered that I’ve made a profound decision:  I’m not going to play nice anymore.  I’m done.  Pity the next man who tries something with me — he’s gonna get 50 years of bottled anger unloaded on him.

So here’s one gift that Donald is bringing all the women of this country:  he has caused us to FEEL our bottled rage.  He has caused us to acknowledge the hundreds of times we’ve made ourselves small because we valued something else more than ourselves:  our job security, being thought of as a nice person not a bitch, or whatever was at stake if we said or did something.  He is opening our collective eyes, female and male, to see the depth of rape culture and entitlement.  He’s helping us see how we as women have colluded in the behavior.  And he’s pushing many of us to the tipping point where we’re discovering that we have the courage and strength to cause change.  Isn’t it crazy to think that Donald Trump is causing me to respect myself more???  But that’s how the Divine works – using whatever tools offer themselves, in order to guide us into more expanded consciousness, if we’re willing.

There’s another gift I see that Donald is giving me and all women:  a chance to learn to be rightfully angry without falling into a prejudice against all men, or feeling that women are superior – that we’re just more sensitive, more loving, etc.  Thankfully, my life is full of beautiful men.  But I have to admit that I’ve made a category in my mind of ‘those kind’ of men, the bad ones.  And whenever we generalize like that, it’s a prejudice.  And when we hold a prejudice, our anger turns to bitterness and damages us.

So I want to start a journey of forgiveness here, because forgiving the individual men who have violated me frees me, strengthens me.  I’m not able yet to forgive them all, but I’ll start with the ones that feel easier.  AP and PH, who as fellow first-graders, schemed to pull my dress up in the lunch line so they could see – what, my underwear? my undeveloped breasts? – I acknowledge my rage toward you.  I don’t excuse you.  You violated me.  You frightened me.  You made me feel dirty.  But there’s a golden space within me, and I choose to breathe in all the suffering you must have experienced to cause you to do that as 6 or 7-year-olds.  I hold your pain for a moment in the divine center of me, letting it dissipate into that loving, healing, warm, all-encompassing energy.  And I also breathe in all the pain and suffering you caused 6-year-old Cynthia, and the bottled rage.  And I allow it all to dissipate in that glowing space of complete love inside me.  AP and PH, I forgive you.  And I breathe out to you all the love of All That Is.

I’m not ready to do that yet for some of the others, but I want to become ready.  And at least for now, I can stop obsessing about what the next horrific thing that Donald will say or do, because I have a tiny speck of gratitude in my belly that the universe put him here in our lives and the collective life of us all, female and male, to bring about healing and growth.


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