The Kindness of Strangers
On November 14, 2016, after being told I hadn’t smiled for a week, I wrote the following post at my Maewestside Tumblr blog. A Twitter friend had invited me to the Women’s March in Washington
I am revisiting my archives. They exist like time capsules of pain, defiance, hope. I am leaving them raw as I wrote them, a mother struggling to sway the wind with her words, trying to fight fascism with her pen.
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Here is the text from my Maewestside Tumblr from November 14, 2016, six days after the greatest crime in US history. And you can also read it below, as I wrote it, on that date at 12:37 pm.
THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS... by heidi siegmund cuda, aka maewestside, Nov. 14, 2016
I’ve been told I have’t smiled since Tuesday. I’ve spent the morning being comforted by strangers.
I have been weeping this morning for the dignity of humanity, because I am woman, and I am weak.
Oh wait, that’s the other script. The one that’s being written for us. The one that’s meant to make you feel bad about being sensitive, alert, smart, and kind. The one that judges you by a numbers scale, kinda like the Lakewood Posse.
Okay, let’s try this again:
I have been sobbing this morning for the dignity of humanity, because alone in my room, no one can see my tears, the pain of a mother who blames herself for failing this world by not getting the messages out in time.
I didn’t start publicly writing about the truth of the #gop knuckledragger and his band of merry haters as scripted by corporate controlled media until September 17, after Maria Shriver sounded the alarm there was only a few weeks left. It was also on that date, I was told he would win. For me, this had nothing to do with policies, taxation or regulation–things I spent years reporting on–it had to do with the Dignity of Humanity. Not a Pageant Guy. Not that.
Willing to risk the venom of some truly brilliant conservative pals, I began chronicling the truth as I saw it from the POV of a media insider who went rogue. Just not in time.
By allowing the Ol’ Timey Electoral College to subvert the popular vote, again, to protect the interests of Wealthy Land Owners, again, we just said “FTW!” And now, we wonder why the world is saying “F You Back.”
Even though Love doesn’t sell as much as Hate, we must always believe in love. There is always more Love, it just got buried under the trash heap that is Corporate Controlled Media and its Purveyors of Hate. The only true press is now Free Press, written by experts with no agenda other than to get the truth to the people.
The Media Ate Itself.
And for that I weep too. Because at the start of my career, it was still indie. And I have many friends within the new$ system who are trying their hardest to make sense of madness, still trying to put out good informed work. But it’s getting buried beneath an avalanche of nonstop shit.
I look down on my phone and see an invite from a new twitter friend in Massachusetts, who is inviting my daughter and I to join her and her daughter at the Women’s March on Washington.
She’s trying to lift my spirits because I’m having a downbeat moment.
She tells me to keep writing because it’s my words that are giving her strength, she reminds me the pen is mightier than the sword. She is a Jewish mother, and I am German-American.
She offers me a gift. A photo of Mister Rogers. A real weeper.
A reminder to “Look for the helpers.” I pin it to my twitter profile in the hopes it’ll help a stranger or two in a moment of sorrow or weakness. We are here to help each other.
Bootstraps up. We march on.
#freepress
#notmypresidentelect
#thekindnessofstrangers 💕✒️🇺🇸✌️️
Author and investigative producer Heidi Siegmund Cuda is an activist on behalf of #freepress.
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Here is the image my Twitter friend sent me in November of 2016:
Here is the last smiling photo of me days before the election of 2016, taken in Laguna Beach, when I was had just finished writing about Epstein and Trump’s court docs. The first real night’s sleep I got after the election was the day Paul Manafort was indicted.
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Begin each day with a grateful heart.
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