These are the words from The Shaw Confessions that I wrote in Adam Yauch Park
I was offline for most of this weekend, and so it wasn’t until yesterday that I read in the news that my local park was defaced with swastikas with the words ‘Go Trump’ beneath them. Here’s the picture that’s been circulated, taken on Friday, 11/18/16:
The first time I saw a swastika in real life was on one of the school busses parked at the Jewish day school I attended in North Miami Beach. I was in sixth grade. And I wasn’t scared–I was curious. I wanted to know who did it, when they did it, how they snuck into the school–if they snuck into the school at all. (My 6th grade mind was OBSESSED with the possibilities. It was like Law & Order in there).
But then a few days passed. The busses were painted over. I don’t even remember if the person who did it was ever caught or punished. Everything just kind of seemed to return to normal.
My only living grandfather is now ninety-three years old. He served in World War II. My great-grandparents fled anti-Semitic violence in Russia. Though I’m thankfully not the descendent of Holocaust survivors, my sister-in-law is. My friends are. And my mother grew up in a small town on Long Island that was so racist and anti-Semitic, that when I was born, she was so terrified that something would happen to me she made a pact with her non-Jewish best friend that, if there were ever another Holocaust, her friend would raise me and not tell me that I was Jewish until I was an adult. I used to laugh at that story. Not anymore.
Like so many of us, I’ve been struggling with the daily onslaught of Awful in the wake of the election, and like so many of us, I’ve been trying to do my best to combat it. Calling my elected officials. Writing letters. Tweeting. Retweeting. But it’s hard not to feel like I’m shouting out into the void–even though I know I’m not. Even though I know that our representatives and senators have staff that have to take my calls and open my letters. It can feel demoralizing to speak up when you think that no one’s listening.
So, like I often do, I’m turning to you, readers, for help.
I know I’m not the only person who’s been feeling the way I’ve been feeling. And I know many of you want to take action but feel like it’s pointless, like you’re not being heard. So here’s what I’m going to do:
Flip to page 378 of the (paperback and hardcover) of The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer. Read the last few sentences.
I’ve written that scene from Noah’s POV. And here’s how I’d like to share it:
If 150 of you send letters to your state senators and representatives registering your objection to the appointment of Steve Bannon as Donald Trump’s chief strategist–a position that holds the most influence over the White House agenda–I’ll post that scene (and it’s a good one) publicly, on this page.
Not sure who your representatives in Congress are or how to contact them? Click here.
Not sure what to write? The brilliant author Gwenda Bond generously provided her letter as an example, which you can feel free to mirror. (And here’s a script if you go the extra mile and call! That makes even more of an impact).
So here’s what you do: write your letter. Print it. Address the envelope (blur out your home address in the photo, please, but do include your city/state if you feel comfortable!) and send the picture of the addressed, stamped envelope to me via Tumblr. You’re welcome to share the contents of your letter if you like, but you don’t have to. And if you’re worried that your voice may not matter because you’re not old enough to vote? Don’t be! Because in 2018, 2020, 2022, 2024–you WILL be able to vote. And it would be an awesome idea to include that in your letter. More than anything, politicians want to hold on to their seats in Congress, which means they actually do listen when you tell them–hey, we may not agree about everything, but a horror of a human being like Steve Bannon must be stopped. Republican or Democrat, it doesn’t matter: we must all take a stand against hatred. And that’s what Steve Bannon stands for. Hatred. And if your representatives help stop him, tell them you won’t forget it.
And I won’t forget your help with this either. I know many of you are scared, and feeling helpless, or useless, or alone. You may not feel like the world is listening to you right now, but this is my way of telling you that I am. I’m listening. And this is my way of saying thank you. Thank you for speaking up.
p.s. Your Shaw Confessions teaser is under the cut!
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