Kamala Harris sold us “joy.” Instead, we got a crushing defeat and a return to the miserable days of Donald Trump’s presidency.
I’m looking at a photo taken by Stephanie Keet during an October 5 rally for Gaza and Lebanon in Times Square in Manhattan. It shows a pair of young protesters, one carrying a Palestinian keffiyehmarching in an embrace. Their almost identical green eyes stare together at someone or something outside the frame. Their faces have a pensive but concentrated look. In the background, a blurry mix of flags, protest signs and the blinding digital billboards of Times Square. In the bottom left corner of the photo, a beaded “VOTE” bracelet can be seen on the wrist of the protester on the right. But vote for who exactly?
Israel’s brutal, US-backed attacks on civilians in Gaza and Lebanon have left many American voters politically orphaned. For them, there was no ‘lesser evil’ on either side, no one to believe or trust. The house was already on fire and both presidential candidates came to the race brandishing a box of matches.
Amid the carnage, counterfeiting and fucking in Washington, individuals like those in Keith’s photo have discovered a different kind of joy. It is the joy of solidarity, of purpose and community. Sooner or later it will gain the upper hand.
