When I was pregnant with my son, I developed a severe case of prenatal depression. This was related to conflict with my family of origin. Talk therapy helped ease some of my guilt. It helped me function well in classes, but I was far from thriving. One of the things that fell by the wayside was my art. During my previous mild depressive states, I had always found solace in playing guitar, piano, singing, and performing at open mics. My stint seeing a psychologist did help me regain interest in most daily activities, but it was hard to face the music – literally. I could no longer stand the sound of my own voice. It was hard not to harshly judge my amateur guitar and piano playing. In short, music was something of a trigger for self-loathing, so I avoided it. Once my son was born, the new flood of hormones helped ease my depression, and I began dabbling in playing lullabies for him. However, my will to resume writing songs was still low, and having so much of my time consumed by caring for an infant made it easy to continue my avoidance. This past week has been my breakthrough.

The days since November 8th have been exceedingly difficult for many of my friends and for me. LGBTQ+ friends fear for their civil rights, disabled friends are reeling from what feels like the ultimate rejection by society, and women such as myself are struggling to reconcile how a man who openly brags about grabbing women by the p*ssy has been appointed to lead them and have a say in their reproductive rights. Political victors are not immune to the pain this week either. People who voted for Trump are left shocked as family and friends abandon relationships with them. Trump voters who saw their vote as a necessary way to change a flawed system are victims of vandalism - as are Muslim families who are facing vandalism from those spurred on by Trump’s anti-Islamic rhetoric. Hateful graffiti sprawls buildings in many cities. Many people are suffering, and social media is an amalgamation of everyone’s pain, shock, confusion, and misunderstanding. Yet among all those emotions, I noticed a different attitude from people I met back in my open mic days.

This is an opportunity to use our voices.

We are not helpless.

We can be the change we want to see.

Let’s turn our hurt into something beautiful.

Let’s make a positive contribution.

Let’s advocate for others.

One of my friends shared the following quote:

“Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents which, in prosperous circumstances, would have lain dormant." —Horace (Quintus HoratiusFlaccus), Satires

Two days after the election, I attended my first open mic in nearly two years. It was held in a tiny room at a coffeehouse. It was a fundraiser for suicide prevention services, and there was such a good turnout that there was standing room only. There were people of different races, ethnicities, sexual orientations, genders, and presumably of different religions and political beliefs. Yet, each of us were able to stand behind that microphone and share a little piece of ourselves with the room. Without knowing each other, we were each able to be vulnerable and have a small window into the others’ humanity. I heard spoken word poetry on the struggles of a gender fluid person. I heard the reaction of a Jewish rapper to Trump’s election and his experience of being bullied for being Jewish. I saw girls feeling free to hold hands and express their love for each other publicly. Some people shared their heartbreaks over romantic relationships through their music.

What struck me was this: we need to keep sharing our stories in an accessible way. We need to keep hearing others’ stories. Sharing our humanity through the arts is its own form of activism, a complement to more direct forms. Being present with that room of strangers made me feel more connected to humanity than I have in a very long time. For many of us, expressing vulnerability is difficult. Art gives us a safer place to express that vulnerability, and knowing each others' vulnerabilities breeds understanding.

Some people might tell you that you are wrong or unappreciative to need time to process a political loss. I call bullshit. If you are hurting, if you are upset, if you are angry, let yourself feel those emotions. Don’t let anyone tell you that you have no right to feel the way you are feeling. Take as much time as you need. Be gracious to yourself and to others, but don’t stop speaking your truth. Don’t stop hearing others’ truths, either. After you have processed your feelings, rise and create something beautiful and meaningful. Let us make the next four years a time of creativity and solutions. In that way, we can honor our emotions and our humanity. I will leave you with a quote from one of my favorite musicians, the irreplaceable Joni Mitchell, “When the world becomes a massive mess with nobody at the helm, it's time for artists to make their mark.”

What kind of mark will you make?