Clarity is not a state that befalls us clearly. It is gradual and often hard to distinguish whether it is born from panic or from measured reflection. It is not always liberating nor does it always bring levity. It usually steers us in the right direction but it also makes no promises.
Something didn’t feel right when I awoke in a bright white, sun-filled room in Hanoi on the morning of November 9th. My friend Quyen and I, elated to be on vacation and ready for brunch where we would surely be celebrating a glass-shattering victory, nervously dismissed the rather red looking map on her iPhone. Ill-equipped for cold and rainy Vietnamese weather, we dressed quickly and weaved distractedly through honking swarms of motorcycles to join our host, Kathy, at the American Club. Bleeding heart liberal expats sat huddled beneath heaters, wrapped in colorful blankets, sipping mimosas as CNN blared. Heads were already beginning to shake as we tucked into our eggs and bacon. Anxious calls were made to family in the US before East Coast bedtimes, and we began drinking hot cocoa with Baileys to ward off the cold and the mounting despair. We watched for seven hours straight, the grey day stretching on endlessly as a wistful American flag fluttered overhead. Silent tears became sobs as Trump took the stage. Our Canadian bar tender whispered, “I’m so sorry” and poured us another round of whisky.
In the days and weeks that have followed, clarity has both found and eluded me. I have a complicated history with my country and I still feel a moment of hesitancy whenever I say, “I am American.” Now, though, I feel with immense clarity the need to engage civically and politically, to foster fruitful conversation, to support those who are endangered, to help ensure my nation is a safe, forward-thinking place to call home. Despite those rousing intentions, however, I find myself equally forlorn, confused, and ill informed. In equal measure, I feel the instinct to charge forth in red, white, and blue splendor and the instinct to curl into a fetal position eating Thai papaya salad all day. I am hopeful and sad. I’m motivated and eager, yet embarrassingly uneducated about the intricacies and possible ramifications of what has come to pass in America.
I have no tidy conclusion to share, just these parting words from William Stafford and the certainty that I must give myself permission to take the time I need to discover how my skills and energy can best be put to use.
“It is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.”
Trying to stay ‘awake’ here in Bangkok
Staying ‘awake’ outside of Bangkok too – in Hanoi, Vietnam and Krabi & Ko Larn, Thailand
