#22) To the Women Who Show Up

In contrast to the confusion in last week’s story about Margie, this week we’re exploring the beauty of women who show up, even in unexpected ways. We’re going to stay in 2016, starting that summer, and then in the aftermath of the election. An election that shocked our country, changed our lives, and put us on a dangerous trajectory.

In the aftermath of the election, I took on a project, which is how so many of you know me, called The Weekly List. Starting in November 2016, I documented broken democratic norms and the threat of descending into authoritarianism. I was a somewhat known person in women’s rights circles prior, but suddenly the list project thrust me into the public spotlight! Concurrently, like many of you, I had plans for my life after Hillary became president, so this also felt like a time of mourning.

Part of finding myself in a position of leadership in the burgeoning Resistance was a constant barrage of incoming messages, texts, and calls asking, What we should do? I felt overwhelmed, sad and frightened, but at the same time more ready for battle than I had ever been before. When it came time for my birthday that December, I had no desire for a celebration—what was there to celebrate? The year prior I had turned 50, and hosted a big bash with friends from all parts of my life. This year I wanted low key—just to be held and comforted. I was single, and oddly the person I turned to was a woman half my age.

We had met in the summer before the election in Provincetown. I attended Girl Splash Week that July, in a summer that felt inspired and like the start of a new hopeful era approaching with electing our first woman president. All along Provincetown’s main thoroughfare, Commercial Street, homes and stores were adorned with flags with the letter “H” and an arrow for Hillary Clinton, along with window posters, art, and decorations supporting and celebrating an ally to our LGBTQ community. The mood was jubilant, and there was a sense of optimism that ushering in her presidency would herald a new chapter of LGBTQ acceptance.

It was my second time attending Girl Splash, so I was just starting to meet the many women who come annually. Because so much of the week was scheduled full of activities, it was relatively easy to come solo, and meet great people to hang out with along the way. That same week, the Republican Party was throwing its convention. On Thursday night, as most Girl Splash attendees were arriving, the RNC was featuring their first primetime speakers. Being assiduous as I was about following the election, I stayed in my hotel room to catch a few speeches before heading out to the dance party. I found the convention rather amusing, What amateurs!Few prominent Republicans had chosen to attend; rather, it was full of rejected extremists and outsiders. I thought to myself, what a clown car procession.

After watching a bit, it was no longer amusing, just sad and boring, so I turned off the television and headed down the hill towards the evening’s activity, a dance party. I walked into the club  and was surprised to see the place already packed with revelers, joyous to be together as a community. The Provincetown scene would only be more busy over the weekend, but the smaller venue was filled with women dancing under the spinning glitter ball. I ordered a vodka and cranberry from the bar, and instantly regretted that I had spent so much of my vacation time hooked to politics, I missed an hour of this to listen to Donald Jr.—ugh! I circled the dance floor, perusing the scene to see if I knew anyone, and looking for prospects to dance with. I was clearly a few drinks behind most of the energized crowd, who were exuberantly pulsating to the music, and singing aloud along with the DJ’s tunes.

I ran into a couple of women I knew from Cornell’s LGBTQ alumni group. We hugged and said hello, and were catching up, when suddenly I felt a tug on my hand: it was a young, beautiful woman pulling me onto the dance floor! Ariel was a head shorter than me, with long brown wavy hair, and piercing brown eyes. Like most of the women in their 20s there, she was super casual in cargo pants and a halter top. She zeroed in me, and soon had her arms wrapped around my neck as we danced.

We danced to a few more songs, then stopped to get another drink. I was a few drinks behind Ariel for sure, and quickly downed another vodka and cranberry. We stepped out onto the venue’s back porch overlooking the beach and half-full moon. We alternated between talking and kissing. The sounds of music from other nearby venues reverberated along the shore. After a few more dances, Ariel grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the exit. She was staying at a hotel across town with a group of women, and my hotel was nearby, so she asked, Is it okay if I come back to your room? We feel asleep after, in exquisite exhaustion.

When the sun started peeking in just after 5 a.m., Ariel awoke, and seemed surprised by her surroundings. She dressed quickly, kissed me on the forehead, and whispered that she needed to get back, My friends will be worried! I was still semi-asleep and groggily called after her, Thank you for a lovely night! Then as she opened the door to go, I added, Find me tomorrow…I mean today! I peacefully returned to slumber.

A few hours later, I wandered out for coffee, then walked along Commercial Street, stopping off at shops and galleries before heading off to the beach. I had hoped to run into Ariel, but no luck. After the beach, I showered and headed to an early evening show starring comedian Kate Clinton. Kate gave a joyful and energized performance, adorned in a cap with a giant arrow with  the letter “H” for Hillary. The crowd roared with laughter when she did her Trump impersonations.

After the show, I walked out onto the street, and who did I see, but Ariel there waiting for me! Upon seeing her, I waved, and she looked at me smiling. We embraced, and I thanked her for finding me, I’m so happy to see you again! We held hands, and headed off for dinner at a local joint overlooking the beach. Darkness had just started to descend in the late summer evening, and we found a picnic table where we could put our toes in the sand.