Tomorrow, the Work Begins

Today, I got to tell my 4yo son that bigotry had won in his country.
Today, I got to tell him that my life matters less than his now.
Today, I got to tell him that his teachers, his school-mates, and his therapist may all be in danger.

Today, I will grieve and rage and cry and scream.
Today, wear hijab in solidarity with my brothers and sisters of every faith, orientation, gender, and ethnicity who have been given an unequivocal message by our country that their lives do not matter.

Tomorrow, however, I will work.

Tomorrow, I will download the schedule for the local city council meetings and begin attending them.
Tomorrow, I will look at the volunteer schedule for my LGBTQ+ homeless youth organization and choose 1-2 days per month to provide meals for the shelter.
Tomorrow, I will renew my membership to the NAACP.
Tomorrow, I will plan out my holiday gift shopping at locally-owned business, ideally by POC and women.
Tomorrow, I will make arrangements to attend Shabbos at the nearest synagogue.
Tomorrow, I will confirm my reservation for my local masjid's community potluck event and look up halal recipes.
Tomorrow, I will write a letter to my Representative, and ask him to recognize that he is obligated to stand for all of his constituents, and not only the ones who attend his church or share his skin color.
Tomorrow, I will set recurring donations to my local abortion fund, and my local rape crisis center.
Tomorrow, I will call El Refugio, the building run to help family members visit those in the immigrant detention center at Ft. Stewart, and ask how I can help.

Today, I will rage and scream and cry.
Tomorrow, the work begins.

“People say, what is the sense of our small effort? They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time. A pebble cast into a pond causes ripples that spread in all directions. Each one of our thoughts, words and deeds is like that. No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.”
― Dorothy Day