On Not Being Able to Sleep: After the U.S. 2016 Presidential Election

1

I can’t sleep. As the election results roll in, it becomes clear that Hillary Rodham Clinton will lose the election. I sit there watching the TV, stunned, angry, fearful. Mostly though, I feel a growing agitation and despair collecting in the bottom of my stomach. I was sure this would be a good night for Democrats, sure that the American people could not possibly vote for a man like Trump, sure that the United States would be taking a step forward rather than a step backward. I tell myself there is nothing I can do tonight. Go to bed. You have to catch an early fight in the morning. I get in bed, but I can’t sleep. I keep wondering if there was some error, if the projections were wrong, if the Republicans or Russians tampered with the vote. I keep thinking of the millions of people, including those who voted for him, who will suffer if Trump’s inchoate and preposterous policies are enacted. I keep thinking of the millions of people who have been thrown into a state of fear because they are not White, straight, Christians. I keep thinking of the millions of women, including those who did not and those who did vote for Trump, who will lose their hard fought reproductive rights and who are now at greater risk of sexual assault and violence. I keep thinking such thoughts and I cannot sleep. I keep checking the news, each time feeling my anxiety and sorrow grow.

Now, weeks after the election, I am still not sleeping well, cannot assuage my apprehension in anything I hear or read. When I nod off, my mind insists I not forget. I wake up, shaking. I keep checking the news. I want to sleep, but see nothing that gives me solace. I can’t sleep.

2

I leave for Philadelphia the Wednesday morning after the election for the annual meeting of the National Communication Association. It feels as if I am abandoning my wife in the middle of a crisis, but she tells me to stay with my plans, that she intends to keep her plans to leave the country on Friday to attend a conference in Spain, that it will do good for us both to get away. I agree, but I’m not sure if I want to be in public space while I’m processing what I’m feeling. As I get closer to Philadelphia, the city with the cracked liberty bell, it occurs to me what a fitting metaphor that is. I wonder if the bell will now break apart, shatter into pieces. I allow myself, though, to remember the pleasure I have in seeing so many of my friends and professional colleagues, people who I only get a chance to see once or twice a year.

I walk into the lobby of the hotel and the first person I see is a longtime friend and colleague, Keith Berry. I open my arms for a hug in a greeting ritual and say, with all the expressiveness of seeing someone you’re truly glad to see, “Hi Keith, how are you?” He returns my hug but, with sorrowful despair, says, “Not well. Not well.”

“What’s wrong?” I say, worried about him.

“You know. Trump.”

I had not made the connection between his mood and the election. In my joy of seeing him, I had forgotten, forgotten for just a moment in twenty-four hours. Keith brought me back to my sorrow, back to where I didn’t want to be, but also to a place where I knew I was with like-minded friends. As the convention went on, most of us adopted a new greeting ritual, one that demonstrated the pleasure in seeing old friends, but also signaled the pain we were in. To the familiar question, “How are you?” we would work our talk to do double tasks with the precision of a skilled performer, “Great,” we would say, “except for . . .” I thought that might help me sleep, but it didn’t.

3

Being with Hillary Rodham Clinton keeps me awake. I keep thinking where we would be going as a country if she had been elected: the policies that would actually help those who voted against her; the millions of people of color who could more easily sleep at night; the survival of our planet. And I keep returning to her, the injustice done to her for over thirty years of public service; she, standing strong against the vicious personal attacks, based in lies and driven by sexism; she, getting up each day and fighting for us all. And I keep hearing her concession speech, given with such grace in a moment of such pain. I say similar words as these over lunch to my colleague and friend, Carolyn Ellis, and as I speak, I begin to cry. I cannot stop.

4

I try my best to exercise about five days a week. Usually, I spend about an hour and a half walking the treadmill and doing some light lifting at the gym, followed by thirty minutes of floor exercises at home. When I exercise at the gym, I face two televisions, one carrying FOX news and the other CNN. I become angry watching both. I saw FOX, day after day, spend countless hours talking about Hillary Rodham Clinton’s emails, working as hard as they could to suggest some great crime had been created, while they minimized Trump’s actual crimes (e.g., sexual assault, fraud) and likely crimes (e.g., calling for armed violence, inciting hate crimes, tax evasion, treason). I saw the ongoing construction of news to serve their base market, feeding them a constant maelstrom of lies in the service of a bankrupt ideology. I saw how they abused any guest who might present any information at odds with their propaganda. I saw how they became a twenty-four-hours-a-day commercial for Trump. For years now, I’ve come to expect such problematic practices from FOX news, the network that creates viewers, study after study demonstrates, who are the least informed. And I’ve come to expect that CNN believes it is doing its job if it lets a few talking heads of opposing views yell at each other without ever reporting the facts; if it allows false arguments to stand (e.g., “both candidates are flawed” as if their flaws are equivalent; “the economy is failing” as if there is evidence to support such a claim; “global warming is still an open question” as if legitimate scientists are still debating this); and if it accepts the spin of political pundits and campaign operatives without bothering to challenge or correct their lies. When I return home to continue my exercises, I usually flip on MSNBC. Despite having the reputation of being an ideological balance to FOX, they, like FOX, gave Trump extensive coverage because it was good for ratings; they, like FOX, offered limited coverage to the candidates’ policies and the likely consequences of their enactment; they, like FOX, allowed invalid arguments to stand without interrogation or correction.

As the Trump administration begins, the media coverage continues seemingly unreflective about how they fail to meet fundamental journalistic standards, how they daily do a disservice to the American people, how they have succumbed to and become complicit in corporate greed. The liberal bias of the news, as the Republicans and FOX news would have us believe, is yet another lie too many American have come to accept.

I toss and turn throughout the night after listening to televised news. It has abandoned striving to be objective and fact-based. It has dropped investigative reporting. News is not news when it reports from a stance of post-truth. It’s a propaganda machine spewing verbal garbage. It’s letting the American people down.

5

As the Trump administration takes shape, I watch appointment after appointment being filled with sycophants who have ingratiated themselves to Trump rather than with people who have qualifications for the job. I listen as name after name is announced; I hear the names of people who have already earned my disdain. Known racists, known misogynists, known xenophobes, known liars, known global warming deniers, known warmongers, known individuals with vested corporate interests, and known failed and criminal politicians. Trump is creating his own swamp, one with a putrid smell. His appointments become evidence that there will be no productive change under Trump. They become another reason I can’t sleep.

6

I am currently teaching a theater class at the University of Louisiana aimed at education majors using performance theory and practices as a potential basis for creating a more engaging classroom. The book for the class, Breaking the Learning Barrier for Underachieving Students by George D. Nelson, concludes with a chapter on discipline and punishment. Reading the chapter again in preparation for class, it occurs to me that the principles Nelson outlines for appropriate behavior in the classroom are based in standard values most teachers would support. To cover the chapter, I decide to start the period class by asking the students to identify three rules they would adopt as the most important for their classroom. I ask the students to read their list and all but a few students put “respect for others” as a fundamental principle. To offer a summary, I find myself saying:

I glad so many of you value respect for others. Most of us would not allow a child in our class to make fun of another child with a disability, would not allow one child to bully another, would not allow one child to use hateful speech in regard to another, would not allow a child to talk about another child using vulgar language, would not allow one child to disparage another child’s religion or sexual identity, would not allow one child to grope another child, would not allow a child to keep another child from joining a group because of his or her home of origin, ethnicity, or race, would not allow a child to ridicule another child’s cultural beliefs, would not allow one child to have all the toys in the classroom in the hope that some might fall from his or her hands for others to have. And we surely wouldn’t want the child who did all those things to be elected class president, much less the President of United States.

The class falls silent, tense. Students are looking down. “No one cares to respond to what I just said?” I ask. More silence. Finally, a student speaks up. “I think you’re trying to make us feel bad for voting for Trump. I know many of us made that decision because we believe his election will be good for the country.” Several heads nod in agreement. A few say that former Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton wasn’t a good choice. A few say they couldn’t trust her. A few say they were both bad choices.

“I appreciate the bravery of those of you who shared your perspective,” I say back, after noting that no one stood in support of what I had said. After all, I say to myself, this is Louisiana.

My point was to suggest that when you teach students to respect others, I believe it matters. What values do you want your students to hold as they leave your classroom after a year with you? What moral principles will be in your classroom and to what extent will you model those principles for your students? Will you stand behind your own beliefs? Classroom space is political space, from what you teach to how you ask your students to behave. Each of you will put on display, day after day, your ethical values. I think this should matter to you.

My tone has become scolding and the students only want to get through the period now. “Let’s move on,” I say, but the tension is too thick for much more to be accomplished. We make it to the end of class and everyone is relieved. I leave the classroom feeling disappointed in my students, all of whom are women. I am angry and in my anger, I imagine myself saying to them: If you voted for Trump, I hope you never have a chance to teach children. I wouldn’t want you teaching my child. You are a hypocrite. You will do damage. You do not have a sufficient moral compass to be around children. That night I try to convince myself to restore my faith in my students. I struggle and I cannot sleep.

7

The images I have of Trump before and after the election differ. Before the election, he had a swagger, carried himself like an arrogant bully, ready to fight with anyone who got in his way or who didn’t like him. Even those who supported his campaign knew he was churlish, petulant, narcissistic, and dangerous. After the election, he still behaves in the same way, except now he seems like a spoiled, bratty child who is lost. Now, he is more dangerous than ever. Now, there are greater consequences when he throws a fit. I wish this was a bad dream.

8

Following the election, many of the sidewalks on the University of Louisiana campus were chalked with messages of love instead of hate. As I walked from the parking garage to the building where I teach, I read, “All people are welcome on this campus,” “Black lives matter here,” “Love, not hate,” “We are here for you,” “Hugs for all in need.” “Love whoever you want, just so long as you love.” Message after loving message appeared in red, white, and blue chalk. After walking a block or so, I stopped and looked back, overwhelmed. I just stood there, taking in all these messages of care. I wanted to fall into those words, to let them swallow me, to live in that safe space.

These are the words that persons of faith would embrace, not the words of hate that come from so many of our so-called Christian leaders. “If you don’t vote for Trump, you will go to hell,” a priest told his parishioners. “We must stop the sodomites from ruining the sanctity of marriage,” a preacher sermonized to his congregation. “Clinton is a sinner, the devil incarnate,” a minister informed his followers. How easily religions based in love settle into a rhetoric of hate, establish their faith group as the only truth, use their ideology as a weapon against others! How often Christians fail Jesus’s primary message to love one another! How similar they are to ISIS! How quickly they become hypocrites!

Perhaps, if I think of the words on the sidewalk, I can get some sleep.

9

How could people be indifferent to the fact that in Republican-governed state after Republican-governed state, a strategy was deployed to keep persons of color from voting? False claims of voter fraud was one of the many lies the Republicans told. They shut down the hours for early voting, they shut down polling places, they shut down people, all so they might be elected.

How could people be indifferent to the fact that during the entire Barrack Obama presidency, the Republicans’ only objective was to undermine any initiative he put forward so that they might be able to argue that Obama and the Democrats failed the American people when election time came?

How could people be indifferent to the fact that Russia intervened in an American election on behalf of Trump, that people with close links to Russia worked inside Trump’s election campaign?

How could people be indifferent to the fact that the FBI, with either strategic intent or gross incompetence, influenced the election?

How could people be indifferent to the fact that senate committees were established and spent millions of taxpayer dollars for the singular purpose of undermining Hillary Rodham Clinton’s bid for the presidency?

How could people be indifferent to the fact that Trump’s strategy for dealing with the opposition is to accuse them of doing what he does? If you are constantly lying, call your opponent “the biggest liar ever.” If you are engaged in criminal activity, claim your opponent should be locked up? If you sexually assault women, claim your opponent doesn’t treat women with respect. If you are a racist, claim your opponent has done nothing to fight for civil rights and is exploiting people of color just to get their vote.

How could people be indifferent to such strategies? How can anyone sleep?

10

Before my acting class is scheduled to start, I begin chatting with the students who have arrived early. I, a White instructor, approach a Black student I don’t know very well, even though we are near the end of the semester. The student has been a quiet presence in class, seldom speaking unless required to do so. Her performance work has been unremarkable. She has been the kind of student who fades into background, one that a teacher is likely to forget soon after the semester is over. I glance down and notice a large button attached to her book bag. The button reads, Black Lives Matter. She sees me reading the message and I offer a thumbs-up gesture and a smile. When my signal registers with her, she rises from her desk and throws her arms around me in embrace. I am surprised and manage only to utter, “They do matter.” No other words are spoken, neither by me nor her. Her performance after this incident was by far her best. I will not forget her.

That small gesture seemed to me the correct political statement; it was a simple acknowledgment that injustices are being carried out on Black bodies and that solutions need to be found. It was a straightforward act of sensitivity to another. It would have been inappropriate to say in response, as right wing conservatives often do, all lives matter. If I had, I would have minimized her legitimate concern, would have provided further evidence for her that White people don’t think Black lives matter. I would have been racist.

As I try to fall asleep, I wonder how being sensitivity to others has become dismissed under the label “political correctness,” how basic human decency has been discarded so that some might feel more comfortable in their own morally corrupt views, how Trump has given permission for people to make American hate again.