My First New Year’s

I titled this My First New Year’s because it was the first New Year’s I spent in Europe. But checking the date, I’m thinking My Last New Year’s might be a better title.

I hadn’t even been in Germany for a month yet, so I was still wide-eyed and hopeful for the adventures to come. I don’t think Trump had even announced he was running for his first term yet, but it was pretty obvious the direction we were going. I truly believed I would never come back to the States, and this was the beginning of my new life free from the impending chaos that was clearly about to go down in my homeland. I really thought I’d made it out.

How naive.

Ten days after this night, David Bowie died. I was never a huge fan of his music, but I respect his relevance. I remember it feeling like when Darth Vader kills Obi Wan Kenobi. My thought was, “That’s so much creative power returning to the Force. If we want that magic back, we’ll have to become Jedi.” And then we lost Alan Rickman, and Gene Wilder, and Prince, and Muhammad Ali, and Harper Lee, and Elie Wiesel, and Richard Adams, and Carrie Fisher. And in the middle of it all, Trump became president, which was, as my colleague put it, “like voting for Hitler even though you know who Hitler is.”

It’s been nine years, and my child-like sci-fi optimism has long since been buried under the ever growing piles of bodies.

And yet, with nine years of hindsight, it’s still true.

The giants of the industry are gone, as well as so many of our own community leaders. The ones who challenged norms, stood up to abusive powers, and spoke truth can no longer do it. So it’s our turn. If we want that magic back, we’ll have to learn how to use the Force.