Two years ago around this same time I was recovering from another election that hadn't gone the way I'd needed it to go. We lost the fight against Amendment 1 in Tennessee, an amendment to the state constitution that has allowed our legislators to put barrier after barrier between women and much-needed reproductive healthcare.
At the time I responded to the loss by having a party. I surrounded myself with black mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and friends. We sipped our wine, had some chocolate, and reminded one another that there was life outside local politics. Being in my house, surrounded by beautiful, bold women who could have been right out of my own family was what I needed. Their laughter was the best medicine for what ailed me.
This time laughter isn't the medicine I want to take.