Mourn, Fight, Repeat

The horrors of 2020 won’t end on Jan. 1

In an attempt to entertain myself one mid-August evening, I drove to University Avenue—my hometown’s commercial center. The last time I had roamed the familiar streets was in a pre-coronavirus world, and I was curious to see how the past few months transformed the once-bustling downtown. 

The first thing I noticed was the ground. A collection of street art promoting racial justice had been defaced with spray paint. Phrases like “MAGA” and “they do more crimes” covered the beautiful posters. My heart sank. Passersby stepped over the artwork. 

I decided to take a side street back to my car. An empty pizza joint had the news playing on their TV: “Trump’s actions have been described as absurdly unconstitutional” was all I heard as I walked by. The reporters were referencing the president’s attempts to undermine Congressional power with a series of executive actions regarding a stimulus package. 

I realized, as I stepped into my car and yanked off my mask, how truly bizarre and terrifying this moment in history was. I buried my head in my hands and muttered what may by now be the most commonly recited phrase of the year: 

“I hate 2020.”

Almost two months later, the horrors have not ceased. Beloved Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away just three weeks before the start of the court’s October term. Our president—who is receiving first-class coronavirus treatment unavailable to the vast majority of the 210,000 Americans who died from the virus—continues to downplay its significance. A fire larger than the state of Rhode Island rages across seven California counties. It is now the largest in our state’s history. 

Nothing about what’s happening right now is okay. But what we need to remind ourselves when we curse 2020 is that the convergence of these calamities is unrelated to the arbitrary division of time. When we blame something as abstract as a calendar year for our collective trauma, we distance ourselves from the true evils that are to blame. 

The world will not reset when the clock strikes midnight on Jan. 1, 2021. The passage of time itself will not heal the wounds of systemic racism and climate change. It will not repair our inefficient health-care system, cure the sick or rescue the millions of people who fell into poverty this year. 

Only our individual and collective efforts will accomplish these goals. We need to critically examine how our systems, leadership and culture allowed a pandemic to devastate our country the way it did. We need radical introspection followed by radical change. 

Variations of the quote “mourn today, fight tomorrow” circulated the internet during the days following RBG’s passing. Mourn we will, and fight we must; it is our only hope. What is so difficult about this year, though, is that this cycle is constant. As the pandemic rages on with no end in sight, there is something to mourn each day. It’s easy to slip into a state of denial, apathy or numbness when confronted with such persistent despair. If you need a break from the news and social media, give yourself permission to take one. 

This is a marathon, not a sprint.