We may be breaking up — and I think you already know why…
I’m just going to put it out there. You’ve changed.
You’ve been acting pretty strange for a while now.
We may be breaking up — and I think you already know why.
When we first got together, I was smitten with you, I was. It even makes me swoon a little now, thinking back on how courageous you were then. How you always stood up for the right things and the right people, how hard you worked (really — you seemed to never stop working, but we still had fun!), and that you were actually a feminist — not one of those who claim to be feminist, or the type that just want to debate with me and my friends about what feminism means to see how riled up we get.
I was so proud of you. I really felt we shared so much.
You were dashing in your mostly blue color palette, and blue is my favorite color.
You were such a good communicator back then, too. Maybe it’s because I so appreciated what we were fighting for — human rights, voting rights, women’s health and reproductive rights, LGBTQ rights. Protecting and strengthening healthcare and the ACA. Jobs and the economy. The environment and climate justice. Fair immigration. College affordability. Gun control. And we were in sync on so much more! I used to hang on every word from you — I admit it was perhaps idealistic of me. But I thought that’s precisely why we were so right for each other. You thought so too — admit it.
It was so exciting, back in the summer and fall of 2016. We were making history.
Remember after the election? Everyone was crushed, and angry, and not sure what to do next. That’s when we all started organizing. I thought we’d be working together, getting even closer.
Remember the Women’s March and how that felt? But soon after that is actually when you started to get weird.
You stopped listening to me. But that didn’t prevent you from asking me for more money. I was really taken aback.
You stopped talking as much about your accomplishments and goals.
You were all about the money. Haranguing me. Sending me three, four, five, even six emails a day — always wanting money. Shouting at me, using ALL CAPS. Scaring me with alarmist subject lines — or (and this is a favorite tactic of the other team) outright lies. Promising me silly stickers, as if I were a three-year-old. Getting irritated if I didn’t want the sticker.
Then you got friends to embarrass and shame me if I didn’t send you money fast enough. Nancy Pelosi, James Carville, Carole King, John Lewis, even Barak and Michelle.
I told my friends about it. They said you did the same thing to them. They told me to mark you as spam. (Think about that for a minute.) But I wasn’t ready to go there yet.
But now — well, I guess I can just use a subject line from one of your recent emails asking me for money: “Go Home. Pack Up. We’re Done.”
Because you crossed that final line.
You said you’d give our money to people who aren’t pro-choice. And campaign for them. Without really considering the full ramifications of what that actually means. Or how I’d feel about it. Me, and the millions of my women friends.
I haven’t found someone new, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I’m looking. I’m going to pick each person to give my support to — on my own, or with my real friends. We know there are others out there in this big world who are dedicated to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, and justice for ALL, including WOMEN. And we’re going to find them.