Dear Bernie: There’s Nothing Left To Do But Go Our Separate Ways
OK, here I am trying to choose words for emotions so painfully primal they defy articulation or definition. It’s a burden that’s intangible yet crippling.
Usually, writing helps in situations like this when my heart is in shreds. But I’ve walked away from this piece more times than J. Lo has walked down the aisle. At first, because I felt no emotion, only numbness. And a little later, because the emotion became too overwhelming.
Trauma has a way of creeping rather than crashing in, waiting impatiently for Shock, always first on the scene, to take a powder.
Bernie, you sounding the death knell on your campaign so early in the game left me aghast and floundering. Losing is one thing. Throwing in the towel, no matter how noble the reason, is indescribably hurtful for your millions of supporters. I know this was not your intent, but the end result is the same.
I can’t imagine how the folks who were on the ground campaigning felt. So many good people literally gave up their lives to make sure we got you and a Progressive agenda in the White House. If I’m feeling crushed, they must be completely devastated. I hurt for them more than anyone, except our kids who had a shot at a future.
Had.
Bernie, to be clear, I’m not mad because you didn’t win. I was fully prepared for that. I’m mad because you didn’t fight. Bailing in April and almost immediately endorsing that demented, neo-lib rapist cost us any leverage we may have had with the DNC. They made you, and by extension us, their bitch.
I’m sure your intentions were good. They always are. I believe that. I’d even venture to say I know it. You’ve good a pretty damn good track record, after all. Not once have I questioned your motives, but on occasion, your judgment has left me baffled.
This occasion has left me heartbroken.
I’ve heard endless speculation regarding your decision-making process from other Berners, some plausible, and some have put me in the running for Ms. Eye Roll 2020. In the end, none of that matters. What’s done is done.
In any case, it’s an excruciating breakup to navigate. This is the most heart- breaking type of parting. It didn’t end because of a lack of love on either side. We still love you, you still love us. It ended because we’d gone as far as we could go.
Or, more accurately, as far as we could go together.
Nevertheless, you will always be the catalyst, the spark that lit a fire under millions of apathetic asses. You showed the masses we don’t have to accept mere crumbs from our corporate overlords, and that we, the peasants, are the ones who keep shit running (COVID-19 has demonstrated this nicely.)
We committed ourselves to this movement, and to you. But we understand that no single person, including you, can carry that weight forever. The movement will continue with or without you. We will push forward. Even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to listen to “America” again.
We will still be friends. Always.
But there’s the deep sorrow of knowing you’re losing something uniquely special. You, Bernie, will always be the one who got away.
