COLUMN | A plight with the Auburn Family

With the election results rolling in early Wednesday morning, it has become hard to sit quietly and pretend I am fine with the state of our country. I cannot; I am angry.

Anger, for me, does not often lead to physical outbursts or impassioned screeches. Instead, rage wraps her cloaked arms around my tongue, with her fury burning holes through my mouth, and leaving traces of ash on my lips. Yet as I open my mouth to speak, words fail me, and smoke rises. 

My heart will beat incessantly and my face will grow a shade of crimson as I quietly try to regain the composure I often pretend I have. My vision blurs and hot tears pile up ready to spill once eyes have fluttered away from my existence. 

I believe thousands of women, LGBTQ+ individuals and People of Color feel the same way, though I cannot speak for such large, impactful populations. Many say those angered by the results are sensitive and that their fears hold no weight to reality. 

However, Trump’s achievement of regaining the White House does not completely cause my anger. Instead, the lack of solidarity and absolute vile hatred man has for his own brothers is what formulates my exasperation.

I left the church years ago after facing years of both self and direct hatred about who I was and who I continue to be. Though I left the church, the Lord has not left me. 

The Lord and His teachings never left me, though I chose to isolate myself from a congregation. I often find myself asking how God feels about our current tensions.

What would God Almighty say about the past year and especially the last 48 hours? Would he be proud of His offspring threatening violence and spewing hatred at others? Does He condone our casting out of those who don’t "belong?" 

I often regarded Auburn as a safe space for me, though now in hindsight seems laughable. Auburn was the first town I called home outside of my hometown, where I desperately tried to disappear from three years ago. 

Auburn contains years of laughter, tears and self-discovery. Auburn taught me that the world was only the beginning of my adventure and that all I needed to do was try.

Try to understand who I was, after years of denial and self-hatred.

Try to understand others, after spending years sitting in a pew and hearing the complete opposite.

Try to leave love on your sleeve for yourself and others, no matter how little our views align. 

Auburn sold me on a dream the first time I set foot on campus. A year into community college, I, a broke nineteen-year-old who had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, felt the promise and encouragement of an education echo off the bells in Samford Hall.  

Originally reluctant to consider Auburn home, that cold, rainy December tour showed me where I belonged. For one year, I worked nights seven days a week to scrounge up enough money for tuition, housing and food. I scoured Auburn's scholarship database and wrote down every part of the campus I wanted to set foot on once I was an official student. 

The dream, Auburn sold me, was that no matter how out of place I felt, determination and passion would exceed all shortcomings. Every day, I told friends, family, classmates and professors my newest dream of being an Auburn tiger.

My family, past friends and mentors always told me to leave politics alone, while Auburn, a long-known conservative town, taught me the opposite. My parents hoped Auburn would calm me, instead, Auburn radicalized me. 

When I saw the disparity among the white sea of faces in my lecture hall, Auburn radicalized me.

When I saw a man, peacefully protesting, beaten mercilessly at Toomer’s Corner, Auburn radicalized me.

When I saw the long-standing Oaks of Toomer's rolled in celebration of Trump’s win, Auburn again radicalized me.

What truly are the traits of the Auburn Family? Have we finally seen what they are? 

Auburn and the pain brought by those who attempt to stifle minority opinions radicalized me to love unconditionally and to use my words to speak for those who cannot or are not yet ready to speak out. 

Though I love Auburn deeply, the veil of ignorance was lifted off my eyes in October after seeing how quickly hate could overpower the town's judgment. I learned quickly how those I serve at my job, young or old, student or local, could quickly act with hate. 

Though I’ve spent years studying political science and the impact our government has on a population, my writings and expertise are often diminished because of my age and my gender. 

It is often said that young women don't understand topics in fields we aren't primarily in. 

I, a young woman, do not understand hard work. 

I, a young woman, do not understand why our government can’t help its people.

I, a young woman, do not understand why my body must be regulated. 

However, I do understand.

I do understand hard work. I’ve worked full-time for three years to afford my education. Since I was a little girl, I saw my dad, a blue-collar worker, practically kill himself to provide me and my mother a home, education, food and even the "finer" things in life.

I do understand our government could be better. We must volunteer and become activists within our local government to ensure our voices are heard.

I do understand why my body is regulated. The sexualization and oppression of the female body is so longstanding, that it’s bred into a woman’s DNA. I learned at the age of seven my "purpose" in this world. Those who revel in the pleasure of a woman’s body regulate it in fear of what a woman could truly become after her shackles are removed.  

I don’t think my "spirited" outlook will invoke a change within the nation or even the Auburn community. However, I hope the small pockets of love that seep through the crevices of Auburn feel that they are heard and that they are seen, even if by just one person. 

I hope that those who vehemently disagree with my writing and me as a person look within themselves and ask if they are perfect. Are your ideologies perfect? Are your ways of emotional reaction perfect? Are the words that shoot through your lips and pierce into those you oppose perfect?

I don't express my narrative as an attack on those who don't agree with me or the way I am. More so, I question if the deep-seated hatred wound around the wooded roots of Auburn will one day snap as love for thy neighbor prevails.