MY MUSINGS ON THE NOVEL CORONAVIRUS

What might have been is an abstraction

Remaining a perpetual possibility

Only in a world of speculation.

-- T.S. Eliot, “Burnt Norton”

In case you are still incomprehensibly and reprehensibly in denial (I’m lookin’ at you, springbreakers on the Florida beaches, English pub-goers, South African bus riders, Swedish skiers, Japanese cherry-blossom peekers, Belarusian soccer fans, the covidiot in the White House):  This is The Big One.  Divine retribution on a mindboggling scale.  The Great Recalibration.  

The universe has seen that we humans have fucked things up so irrevocably, it determined that an apocalyptic shake-up was necessary.  At fault are our profligate squandering of natural resources;

our hubris in artificially extending lives and overpopulating the earth;

our thumbing of noses at the insidious effects of mass tourism.

Inequalities – racial, ethnic, economic, gender, sexual – we have enabled to develop and fester.

Our shortsighted shorting of public health infrastructures.

The unforgiving insistence on ever-higher gains in overheated, overvalued markets.

The massively unfair distribution of worldwide wealth.

Our nonchalant, incessant consuming of so much more than we need. 

The greedy pursuit of own enrichment with no regard for the common good.

Maybe even the breakneck frantic pace our lives had assumed, allowing for too little introspection and time for what really matters.

We are being put in our place, forced to retreat to our domestic lairs, defenseless against a rabid Darwinian realignment of the natural order of things.  The invisible pathogen raging among us has managed to do what all the strikes, marches, rallies, riots, political debates, climate conferences, natural disasters and other visible disruptions could not do. 

The planes are in the hangars, the cruise ships in their berths; factories and slaughterhouses are shuttered; supply chains are severed, social lives are locked down; incompetent and undeserving leaders are being shown up as the buffoons that they are; the economy is in a tailspin; a global reckoning is taking place. 

The cosmos has got our attention now, eh?   

We find ourselves “at the still point of the turning world” (Eliot again), compelled to stop / slow down and turn inward and contemplate and question and be and reassess and evaluate the opportunities to make the best of this defining moment.  We have time now to cultivate a new awareness.  To breathe deeply.  To determine what will be different on the other side of this upheaval -- because back to business as usual is not, should not be an option.    

I manage ok during the day, keeping my hands busy, my body moving and my mind distracted, but the nights are especially disquieting.  Afraid of the torment of my subconscious, I numb myself with Netflix and more often than not drift off in the blue light of my laptop.  In the nocturnal hours the full weight of my unremitting fears bears down on me: worry about my 28-year-old doctor son and my 84-year-old asthmatic mother; concern about the fate of my small business; general anxiety about the staggeringly calamitous effects of this crisis. 

My heart convulses hardest when I try to imagine what life A.C. is going to be like for my children and their cohorts, the Millennials and Gen Zers -- both names portending a momentous era, the end, a finality… and here we are.  How will they navigate their psychological and emotional near future? What will their professional prospects be after this economic Armageddon?  Where will they find the wherewithal to claw their way back from this historic shit show?

While the rampaging ravages of this virus are widely beyond our control, it will be up to us to choose to make the most of its aftermath. The shifting consciousness is palpable but can we make the necessary post-pandemic pivot?  Once we are out of lockdown, how long will our newfound appreciation of our freedoms last? 

How soon before we are thoughtlessly abusing our planet, callously over-consuming, loudly complaining about traffic jams and tedious classes and annoying office colleagues?  

Will we continue to show respect for our new heroes?  

Will we still engage in acts of solidarity? 

Will we care more for each other or revert to egocentric actions? 

Will we do our best to make good, thoughtful choices? 

I really want to believe in humankind’s ability to learn and grow from life’s most daunting challenges, but recognize that negative and narcissistic behavior can be frighteningly deep-rooted.   I truly hope that our resilience – of which I am utterly convinced – leads us to lives of more altruism but also fear that addiction to affluence may ultimately overrule any gentler, kinder impulses.    

We will eventually acquire immunity to this strain of coronavirus, but I hope to god we will no longer be immune to the deplorable harm we have wrought on our world. 

While there will be a cataclysmic toll on life as we had come to know it, I accept that this is a necessary culling for our collective wellbeing.  Though it may be next to impossible right now to view the devastation around us as a gift, the COVID-19 catastrophe could engender widespread and lasting recognition of our social responsibilities.  And that would indubitably be a good thing.

For me personally, I had high hopes and expectations for this year, the start of a new decade… its sinuous numerical symmetry enticing me to ramp up my travel; give a push to big professional changes; embark on individualistic indulgences.  And while I have sadly had to shelve these selfish plans, my belief in the phenomenal potential of this watershed moment has been renewed on a universal scale: The shared karmic experience of 2020 just may save us from ourselves. 

The only wisdom we can hope to acquire

Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.

--T.S. Eliot, “East Coker”

A POST-♯MeToo PLAYBOOK

Hey, single ladies, we find ourselves in quite the pickle on the dating front these days.  In the aftermath of ♯MeToo, men are understandably insecure, uncertain, intimidated, afraid of making wrong moves or overstepping new boundaries and being mercilessly lambasted as louche.  And so they refrain from engaging with us at all, choosing to play it safe in the game of the sexes. 

Naturally, we realize that not all males are chauvinist pigs and truly hope that chivalry is not dead, just on hiatus.  In an effort to reassure and encourage members of both genders, allow me to offer a few guidelines to heterosexual interaction in these days of debilitating distrust.

Men, don’t be shy!  No need to swear off flirtation or fornication forever!  Please engage with us, woo us, seduce us – just do so with the requisite respect and always be prepared (good Scouts) to accept NO, whether in the form of a gentle rebuff, a vociferous refusal, or even a physical shove.   Consent, the belabored buzzword in this re-education campaign, is of course the key to mutually gratifying coitus. 

Women, stand up for yourselves and do not feel obliged to do the deed just because he bought you dinner.  We need not explain or justify ourselves if we choose not to go all the way -- just don’t go leaving a bunch of blue balls in your wake.  If you do decide to indulge in drunkfucking, be sure you’re all in.  It’s hugely unfair to lead a guy on and then throw up a wall when things get hot.  Men deserve the same respect we expect in the hookup hokey-pokey.    

In the meantime, while we wait for the full fallout from so much repulsive misconduct on the part of some machos, what’s a gal to do to ensure her sexual pleasure?   We can’t take the situation lying down, metaphorically speaking.   We must take things into our own hands (pun intended) – and guys, you should not feel the least bit threatened by this; after all, you have been freely jerkin’ the gherkin all along, non?

It is definitely high time to embrace the current femtech fad!  There has never been such a huge choice of vibrators, massagers, dildos, plugs and other sex toys available, even at such mainstream sources as Amazon and Walmart.  Online ordering and home delivery have never been so welcome. 

And if you are looking for some inspiration for ways to ramp up your party of one, but like many women find classic video pornography too vulgar, too explicit, too in-your-face repulsive, then have I got good news for you: audio porn.  By leaving so much more to the imagination, these sexy stories have a tremendously titillating appeal that visuals lack.

Check out Quinn.com (“The Internet’s best kept secret”), a website and Dipsea, a subscription app which both offer recordings designed to make women

“feel more alive… unlock confidence, and enhance intimacy.”   Or, at times, simply get the job done.  These are two female-founded startups so it is no wonder that their services so effectively meet the salacious needs of lusty women everywhere. 

But be forewarned!  Though this erotica can be listened to anywhere through the privacy of your own earbuds, the look of ecstasy on your face will likely give you away to your fellow public transit passengers. 

WOMEN, BE WOKE -- ASSERT CONTROL OVER YOUR BODIES!

I am utterly appalled at the backwards slide the US is making on so many political, social and moral fronts, but what galls me the most at the moment are the attempts by conservatives to limit a woman’s right to abortion.  How can this atrocious trend towards upending Roe v. Wade almost 50 years later be getting any traction?  Reproductive freedom is a basic human FEMALE right!  And that includes the right NOT to reproduce -- regardless of the reason for this choice. 

The legal maneuverings in red states around the country, including my home Commonwealth of Kentucky, to set outlandish conditions and regulations on abortion services have really got my goat.  Putting ANY restrictions on a woman’s right to choose what to do with HER body is tantamount to Gilead-esque tactics.  We are no man’s handmaid!  For now, the federal constitutionally protected right to end a pregnancy up to 24 weeks supersedes these shenanigans, but several states have gone ahead and enacted “trigger laws” which would take effect in the event that Roe is overturned.  In addition, many states never repealed pre-1973 statutes that criminalized abortion, and some of them could again be in force if the right-wing contingent gets its way. 

This is not the first time that the landmark ruling has been challenged.  In 1992, the Supremes reaffirmed the central holding of Roe, saying, "Our law affords constitutional protection to personal decisions relating to marriage, procreation, contraception, family relationships, child rearing, and education. [...] These matters, involving the most intimate and personal choices a person may make in a lifetime, choices central to personal dignity and autonomy, are central to the liberty protected by the Fourteenth Amendment. At the heart of liberty is the right to define one's own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life.”  (boldface and highlighting mine)

I fear that the current uber-conservative judges on the highest American court have a different point of view and could well send the country back to the pre-women’s lib Neanderthal age.  Who are these shortsighted, predominantly Caucasian males to tell women they have no choice in these matters? 

Could it be a sort of insidious, despicable retaliation for ♯Me, Too?!?!?!

Or simply a straightforward form of white supremacy and oppression? 

I am the mother of three myself, and carrying, bearing and raising them were the most precious experiences of my life.  These children were utterly desired, planned for, eagerly anticipated, deliriously welcomed, and all within a healthy, loving marriage – and even then there were countless trying times when I felt overwhelmed, resentful, infuriated.  Parenting is tough AF, folks, even under the best of circumstances, so imagine how much more challenging for a mother to give the requisite parts of herself to unwanted offspring. 

It is particularly unfathomable to me how a woman who has been through the trauma of rape or incest should be expected to unconditionally love the result of such a heinous crime.  Isn’t this the even greater offense?  For children to arrive already burdened with such a strike against them, such a stigma?  Sparing them this undeserving indignity is, imho, the best form of what pro-lifers call when attacking abortion, “the protection of unborn children.” Such undaunted maternal devotion is the very least that each and every human brought into this world is entitled to. 

And in preaching about not punishing children for the “sins of the fathers”, can these conservative, predominantly Caucasian males really be oblivious to the fact that, certainly in cases of rape and incest, the biological fathers are not going to be around to provide any sort of support whatsoever?! 

How dare they attempt to legally compel women – and oftentimes girls! -- to endure the burdens of pregnancy and childbirth?! 

How can they be so indifferent to the plight of the mothers who, after suffering unspeakable offenses against their physical bodies and emotional wellbeing, are forced to carry and bear and then left to care for the resulting offspring?! 

Why do they place more value on the unborn than on the women whose lives would be radically disrupted by the issue of an act of violence?!

And what about an oopsy pregnancy that is simply unexpected and/or unwanted?  I’d like to know how each of those lily-white, lily-livered legislators would feel if their wife / sister / daughter found themselves in such a situation and no longer had the power to legally, safely, willingly take control of their bodies and lives. 

So yeah, I angrily and wholeheartedly echo this placard: STAY OUT OF OUR UTERUSES!  

Next week:  Check this space for a post-♯MeToo playbook 

Portrait: She's Got a Gun (English version)

Do you know... Stacy Overbey?

So there I was, just savoring a spectacular late-summer morning at Badi Utoquai, the sun still bright, the crowds thinner, the boats plying the sparkling waters of the Zürisee.  After an hour or so, the man on the bench next to me asked if I lived in Zurich (yes) and if I was active on social media (ummm, sort of), then shared his idea for a series of online portraits of "independent women with style whom we randomly meet" -- I was so very flattered and honored to be the first.  What a meaningful chance encounter this turned out to be, and what a fun little project!  Here's the result: 
 

I met Stacy at the lake on one of the last warm days of the 2018 bathing season.  She came to my attention because she seemed to be completely at ease with herself over the newspaper and coffee. 

Shot from the hip

Tea or coffee? coffee
Morning or night person? My nature is a morning person, but my work and social life often dictate the opposite.
Sleep with the window open or closed?  open
Debbie Harry or Joan Jett? Debbie Harry
Meryl Streep or Jane Fonda? both
Hippie or punk at heart? hippie
Cinema or Netflix? Netflix
Flight or train?  train
Introvert or extrovert?  extrovert
Your Instagram? @ stacyoverbey  

The way

Born in 1961 in Music City, USA (Nashville) and raised in Murray, Kentucky, a 15,000-soul town where everybody knows each other. "The time was," remembers Stacy "carefree but marked by a look to the outside and a yearning for anonymity."

So at the age of 18 she went to study on the US East Coast; to Wellesley, half an hour outside Boston. A prestigious all-women’s college whose walls once housed Hillary Rodham Clinton. Stacy raves about her time there, describing the positive dynamic among the young women; that she could, even as a "country bumpkin"-- she will use the term to describe herself several times – be herself without most inhibitions.  "Although some classmates were worlds more sophisticated than I was then." Many meaningful friendships made for life.  In addition to her own campus life, with English literature as a major, she  enjoyed the intellectual and "admittedly also the masculine" vibes of nearby Harvard University and MIT.  "Here I had to work for school success for the first time in my life," she laughs.  It was encouraging, promising and “empowering”.  There really isn’t an appropriate German-language translation for this word and the associated basic feeling to which American women owe so much. A force that simultaneously grows in oneself and is legitimized from the outside. "My four years there were over much too fast."

It was similar with the ten weeks of her post-graduate European tour with her friend Laura. "The friendship has held; just this summer Laura and I hiked together through the English Cotswolds instead of attending our 35th reunion at Wellesley."

Stacy's dream job was journalism. But because the way was not clear enough, back in Boston she started in fashion retail to pay the rent.  Maybe she should get her masters? The decision was made for her by a Swiss. He had just graduated from Harvard Business School, had a job offer in his home country and an idea: he wanted to go on a trip around the world before he got caught up in the clutches of the business world. With her.  This journey acutely infected Stacy with the travel virus, and it also brought her to her limits: the poverty, the noise, the crowds and not least the scorpions she encountered in India, or the altitude sickness she suffered in the Himalayas, were all overwhelming. What she did not know: Her fiancé had subjected her to the experience with what she calls the "princess test”.  Which she passed -- by not being a princess.  Today she says that the adventures of the journey and the repeated overcoming of challenges did her a ton of good.  And she got along well with her future husband. "I owe much of my love for traveling to him."

In autumn 1986, Stacy landed with her fiancé in Zurich, where she has lived ever since. At that time as an unmarried foreign woman she was not allowed to work.  So she learned German, and enjoyed talking to me in a charming mix of Swiss German and English. A turning point in learning the local dialect was realizing what the word "öppis" meant.  She has never wanted to go back to the USA except for holidays. "During my first trip to Europe in 1983, I fell in love with this continent, with the lifestyle here and to this day, I appreciate things like the café culture, the great museums, the beautiful old town quarters ..." She eventually gave up her American passport for tax reasons.  At 26 she married and started to write for a local newspaper in her hometown of Murray, the monthly column "A View from Abroad".  Journalism.  In addition, she taught English at a language school and founded a company for editing English texts.

In 1991, her son Raphael was born, four years later the twins Luca and Sophia. This resulted, among other things, in an overwhelming need for some time for herself. "An hour a week should belong only to me." She found it in yoga.

"I am happiest when I  
leave my comfort zone. "

The next ten years were marked by everyday family life in a Zurich suburb, peppered with regular family visits to the US. "Transatlantic travel with children is a matter of attitude," Stacy is convinced. She touches her heart and is sure "I have made my children into good travelers, people who are adventurous and curious about new things." Her daughter has most evidently inherited the travel bug.

At some point there was a "dream house on Lake Zurich"and a renovation project that was "good for our marriage."  It would be the last home she would move into, she was sure. The renovation was a success; Stacy lived "the classic Gold Coast life." Whether symptoms of a troubled marriage are a part of this, she leaves open.  In any case, at her wish, the divorce came in 2009.

For five more years she remained with her children in the house, as tenant of her ex-husband.  The kids should reach legal adult age and finish school. And Stacy would open her first own bank account -- under her maiden name. And not only that: she bought a company that she now runs. The Learning Center in Zurich offers tutoring to English-speaking students. "It was a flight forwards. The financial crisis had just picked up speed; my chances of getting a job were zero. " She has not regretted the decision. "It was right. And my learning curve was very steep," she recalls. At that time, she also recognized a pattern: "I need challenge. Whether it be the choice of college, the trip around the world, the divorce ... I am happiest when I leave my comfort zone, when I can grow. The path from the initial uncertainty through to the triumph of mastery shows me again and again that my trust in myself is justified."  This process fosters personal growth, but also modesty, she is convinced.

In 2014, she moved out of the house on Lake Zurich.  But that was not enough distance. So she took a sabbatical, her second world trip, this time all alone, and captured her experiences in a blog. The archive is here. 

Since her return in 2015, Stacy has been living on her own for the first time in her life; her current home is a rented apartment in the city of Zurich. "It was not easy to come back after a year of traveling around the world. If it weren’t for my children, I would have landed in New Zealand -- far, far away from my old life.”

The life

What do you do first thing in the morning and last in the evening?
I start and finish my day with yoga.  The very first poses before I even get out of bed.

How do you show up?

I walk with a straight back, light foot, head held high.  I seek direct eye contact, smile at my fellow human beings and gladly give a compliment.

Moment (s) of self-empowerment?
The answer here again is: Yoga. Although I respect my limits based on my age and previous injuries or operations, I also recognize my potential.

The feeling also comes up at the thought of taking my business to the next level.

The most important crossroads in your life?

The decision to separate from my husband.

How has your relationship with others and with the opposite sex changed over the course of your life?
Today I act from a position of strength towards men. I was never as self-confident as I am today.

And not only towards men: I am much more relaxed than the temperamental redheaded me of earlier years.

What do you make time for apart from yoga?
For my children. They do not demand much, but I am delighted to always be there for them.

For traveling. I love to go to yoga retreats in exotic places, and am already planning my third RTW (round the world trip).

And for the conscious experience of beautiful and simple moments -- for example on my bike in the morning or walking in the woods -- and for personal encounters, even if they are, typically American, somewhat superficial. I think it's important to pay attention to and express wonder of the little things.  

Where do you get involved?
I'm currently in the middle of my yoga teacher training, with the aim of passing on what the practice has given me. I want to show that even as a body gets older it remains "yoga-capable" and can help to lead a less stressed life. The philosophy also speaks to me. The inclusive nature in contrast to the exclusive of western religions. Be good and do good, but if you fuck up every now and then ... (shrugs.)

How important is sex in your life?
It's important. I am pleased by the fact that I feel very much alive even below the belt. Hand in hand with passion, sex is part of an all-round fulfilling life for me.

Do you have any quirks?
Not only do I organize my blouses classically by color, but also by sleeve length and material.

Do you have something like a personal philosophy of life?
Long before I made a career in education, I felt moved by Gandhi's maxim: Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.

How do you earn your money?
With my company.

The style

What compliment do you hear over and over again? Can you accept it gracefully?
I get compliments for my hair, my freckles and my hats; since my divorce also for my charisma.

I have gotten better about accepting compliments and hope I do it with due modesty. I have not quite made peace with my freckles, but since I was 40, we have been living in a truce. Today I realize that my skin has aged pretty well because the freckles always compelled me to protect it particularly well against the sun.

What are the favorite things in your wardrobe?
White blouses, western-inspired boots and hats. And sunglasses.

What do you particularly like to buy for your wardrobe? Is there anything that’s more of a chore?

I always buy more of the same -- every year one or two blouses from Lareida -- but they are of course always different. Like my current favorite oversized white shirt, which I bought this summer in Hamburg. Or the hats that I find in vintage stores.

I wear pants 99% of the time; I especially love the boyfriend leather pants from Zinga. Recently I bought my fifth pair -- in rusty red. Maybe this is the last for a while ...

At some point I started to replace bras with bralets, because not only the shopping experience with bras is demeaning, but the general comfort level is horrendous.

Do you have a favorite bag or does it depend on your mood?
My everyday bag is a Tumi backpack -- it makes things a lot easier, the hands are always free. Especially practical for me as a cyclist.

From time to time, or when traveling, I opt for a cross-body bag that has space for the essentials.

Your relationship with shoes?
A pretty simple one. Birkenstocks in summer, boots in winter. And sneakers always work, preferably running shoes from Asics.

Fragrance?
Prada Amber.  Also get compliments on this from time to time.

How would you describe your style of living?
I live in an apartment in a newly renovated Art Nouveau house with beautiful old floors and high ceilings, modern kitchen and bathroom. I like it orderly but cozy and comfortable – what I call the big sweater feeling. The color scheme is dominated by brown, beige and the mossy green-gray in which I have painted the walls. My home is 100% me.

The rest

Which music currently inspires you?
The Australian Tash Sultana ; my daughter introduced her to me.

Which music do you always return to?
The Rolling Stones, Gramatics, Erykah Badu, Ella Fitzgerald, Fleetwood Mac, Mary J. Blige, Boz Scaggs, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, Lenny Kravitz, Al Green and of course David Bowie and Prince.

How do you listen to music?
On Spotify. But I still buy music as downloads to support the musicians.

Favorite book? Or author?
My favorite authors are John Updike, Jhumpa Lahiri, Milena Moser and Peter Stamm.

Favorite newspaper / magazine?
The New York Times and The New Yorker.

Favorite Instagram?
I mainly follow friends. And prefers those who do not show me every dish that they eat and every movement of their children.

For which branch of culture does your heart beat?
For the ballet. I have a subscription to Ballet Zurich.

Transport?
A first generation eBike and public transport.

Your last / next travel destination?
I have just returned from Japan.  Next is Los Angeles, where my son is studying.

Your classic drink?
The Manhattan

See the original article (in German) with accompanying photos here.

Yes, me, too

Though I am not the type to jump on just any bandwagon, this current ♯METOO movement has compelled me to add my voice to the ever louder chorus of women claiming sexual aggression and assault.  What happened to me is clearly not unique, and my account will not bring down any powerful or famous politician, producer, actor or anchor – hell, many of the perpetrators were not even known to me – but perhaps it will contribute in a small way to a general reckoning of all the despicable abusers out there.

Reading and hearing the never-ending reports by fellow victims has dredged up several very disturbing memories, the likes of which I honestly would have preferred to have kept suppressed.  I will not document the disgusting details but let a list of general offenses suffice: the high school classmate who repeatedly exposed himself; the neighborhood peeping tom; gratuitous groping at college mixers; the guys on the bus in India who rubbed up against me; countless instances of ogling, leering, catcalling, and lecherous comments; and what would now be called date rape although back in the day was not identified as such.

First traumatized as an innocent pre-teenager, I somehow blamed my pubescent self for the incident without remotely understanding what the creep was doing or why he had targeted me.  I didn’t tell anybody because / although I was mortified and sickened, scared and confused.  The society around me was giving completely confusing signals, with the liberal mores of the 70s counteracted by the conservatism of the South where everything that had remotely to do with sex was fraught with guilt and ignominy.  The much sought-after Our Bodies, Ourselves was nowhere to be found in that small Bible-Belt town. I had no chance in this environment with such shit happening to become comfortable with or confident in my sexuality.   

The worldwide tidal wave of confessions has washed in a fundamental feeling of relief as the epiphany hit: I had subconsciously taken responsibility for all the offenses against me throughout all those years.  I had figured it was part of the price of being female, our plight to endure, and in some way believed what was so often hissed in my ear by contemptuous men as they forced themselves on me:  You asked for it! 

But I’ve now realized that I WAS NOT TO BLAME.  That sleazy men have been harassing women forever.  That this abhorrent behavior is ubiquitous.  That it is the product of a universal obscenity on the part of arrogant men who feel entitled to grab pussy and worse.  It is devastating to think of the incalculable toll on the self-esteem of so many women.   Why did we stay silent for so long?

All this has me wondering how many decisions, major and minor, I have made in response to such demeaning male attitudes without recognizing this as the motivating factor?  Attending an all-women’s college, dressing modestly, traveling (or not) to certain destinations, choosing to live in a country where the rate of violent crimes against women is relatively low.  How might my life have been different without the underlying blame and shame? 

My next step in this catharsis is to have the convo with my kids.  I pray to god that my daughter does not have any stories of her own to tell, and trust that my sons have always treated women with respect.  If they and succeeding generations know that such vulgarity will not be tolerated, then there is hope of a very necessary social and cultural enlightenment. 

TRUMP TRAUMA

Pollsters, pundits, politicians, and even the President have been commanding us on the losing side to accept the result, get behind the winner, support Trump as the rightfully elected new “leader of the free world” (gag!).  Their hastily revised message that the law has been followed, the people have spoken, and this is the way it’s always been done – as messy and maddening as it may be – does not at all console me. 

It is as if they are saying, this is democracy at its finest.  Well, I call bullshit, this is a massive failure of democracy.  The US has become a demagoguery!  The system has allowed the election of a hate-spewing, fear-mongering, bigoted, racist, misogynistic, egomaniac with no political experience whatsoever as POTUS. Trump has never had to compromise in a corporate position, either, running his real-estate empire by dictatorial whim.  Will he govern by late-night tweet?  God help us!

Actually, this was exactly why the Electoral College was formed in the first place (in 1787), to protect the fledgling US of A from undue influence by its uninformed, biased, self-interested burghers:

"A small number of persons, selected by their fellow-citizens from the general mass, will be most likely to possess the information and discernment requisite to such complicated [tasks]… the people trusted (them) to cast a responsible vote for president.” Alexander Hamilton declared that the selection of the president should be “made by men most capable of analyzing the qualities adapted to the station.”  (from Wikipedia)

But it long ago became a puppet organization that just mucks up an already uber-cumbersome process.  And today’s EC, with its current winner-take-all policy, has failed us once again; the lackey electors can no longer exercise discernment or responsibility or analytical skills and in effect negate all those votes in their state’s minority.  The federal institution intended to ensure competency in the highest office in the land is basically now controlled by the lowest common denominator of the public: angst.  

Each time I have to explain the Electoral College to the Swiss, who enjoy the most direct democracy in the world, it is painfully clear that it should be dismantled posthaste, but with its Constitutional coat of armor, nobody has had the guts to even attempt to attack a rewrite. 

 

This is by far the most grievous aspect of the 2016 election: Hillary actually won the popular vote!  She received over 3 MILLION votes more, 47.8% to his 47.3%.  And of course she was the infinitely more capable candidate.  If ever personal foibles should have been forgiven and professional aptitude preferred, this was it.  Why can’t Americans be more French and give a laissez-faire shrug to the petty as long as policy is thoughtful?  What difference does it make from whom the head of state is getting head as long as (s)he has the people’s best interests at heart?  Server, schmerver.

Hillz and I share not only a gender but also an alma mater, and I was especially stoked at the idea of a fellow Wellesley alum becoming the first woman prez. And so while I’m ranting, I have to ask: Hey, my smart, savvy, educated, Caucasian sistas – WTF?!?! Tell me these exit poll stats ain’t true! 

·      53% of white women voted for Donald Trump

·      42% of all female voters chose the Republican

·      45% of college-educated white women also voted for him

DJT has gotten away with outlandish, unfounded, malicious claims based purely on his personal feelings towards not just HRC but every minority group.  He polluted the political atmosphere with libelous and scandalous remarks that incited animosity and malice.  We have deviated from the HOPEfulness and positivity (Yes, We Can!) of the Obama era and are to be led for four long years by a deviant whose followers find today’s racially, ethnically, culturally diverse landscape anathema.  The thought of gay marriage, transgender strides, gun control, a mosque in their neighborhood scares the bejesus out of them. 

The hate-induced incidents of blatant discrimination that have been horrifying us since Tuesday are indicative of the country’s current mood and, there’s good reason to expect, harbingers of what is to come. The perps are taking their cue from the top down, from a top dog whose vitriolic bark has penetrated the national consciousness and incited rabid resentment.  And I fear that the leash our system of checks and balances is supposed to provide will not be strong enough to keep the snarling hound from wreaking massive injury to civil liberties across the land.

The international high school students whom I advise here in Zurich are not sure if they want to go to college in the US any more.  Muslim friends in NY are seriously inquiring about the possibility of moving to Switzerland.  Colleagues of color are revising business plans in response to Trump’s xenophobia.  I am grateful that my family in the States, in particular my college-age son and niece on urban campuses, are lily-white Christians (and how dispiriting that such a thought even crossed my mind) – they just need to be sure to keep their ACLU cards firmly in their pockets.  

So it’s a tragic time in America, and those of us who want our government to be inclusive, compassionate, progressive, cooperative, tolerant should be allowed to wallow in our grief.  We need time to process what we truly believed was an inconceivable and preposterous scenario: President Trump. 

I may have emigrated 30 years ago, and even officially (and very reluctantly, thanks a lot, Uncle Sam) relinquished my US citizenship 5 years ago, but I will always be an American at heart – and this heart is in agony.