In Times of Fear, I Turn to Books

I am lucky to work in an office that is right near a bookstore. In times of personal stress, rough workdays, or a terrible news cycle, I know that I have a place where I can retreat into the world of books. I can wander around a maze of shelves stocked with pre-loved books and take in the distinct scent of aging paper bound in glue and hard paper stock. It's a temporary escape, a temporary sense of peace.

On November 6, 2024 at about 12:30 p.m., I needed a break from staring at blue-light screens. I was exhausted from doom scrolling and trying my best to focus on work and the regular mundanity of office life. However, it is difficult to focus when--just the night before--more than half of the country voted in favor of fascism. I've always saved my filled up frequent reader cards for rainy days, for when I could really use the company of a book. November 6, 2024 was a rainy day for sure.

2016 was the first election that I got to vote in. I can explicitly remember the intense excitement of voting for a woman to possibly be the next president and participating in the democratic process by sending my absentee ballot from my college apartment. I also acutely remember the feeling of falling after the results were called. I was scared and I remember a few politically moderate friends telling me that everything would be okay. I am okay. I am alive. But all of my fears from that time were well-founded and we all had every right to be worried. I always joke that 2016 was the year that I became a real adult, but it's true. That year, I learned that America is just a place, not an ideal. I learned that our elected leaders do not protect everybody. With this election in 2024, I did not allow myself to hope too much or to be too optimistic. I knew that our country could too easily turn to fascism. Nearly any queer person living in the United States could see this shift happening in real time over the past few years. Our community has always been used by the right as a tool to fear monger. This was no surprise. Even so, when I woke up to the election results, I felt that familiar feeling of falling. I knew that this was a real possibility, and I mentally prepared for that possibility. Despite that preparation, I was still terrified and felt physically sick. As a queer woman, I have enough to worry about living in a now decidedly far right country. But I also worry about other communities of Americans that will be facing challenges of their own.

I am not the only book lover who can say that they turn to stories in times of turmoil. Stories have power to instill hope and courage, two things that will be much needed in the years ahead. Books can provide us with what we need to face uncertain futures. Reading history lets us know that what we are experiencing today has been experienced before. Science-fiction and fantasy remind us that we can find courage and be our own heroes. Romance reminds us that it's important to laugh, fall in love, and find joy wherever we can. The classics remind us that we are not alone, that people 50, 100, or even 1,000 years ago have felt what we feel today.

As much as I believe in the power of books, I am not stupidly optimistic. I know that books can't do the work that we need to do ourselves. We must put in the work and use our own words to fight for our future. There is now even more work to do. Our elected officials will not be our keepers. We must look out for each other and be our own protectors. But for now, as I hunker down with my books, I am reminded that stories are both a source of great comfort and life-changing power. Words are our power. Stories make us brave. Books are a testament to our existence.

I head back to work--as we all must do--clutching my newly acquired books, knowing that we are all just as American as anyone else in this country and that we will not be easily erased. As long as we use our words, cherish our communities, and insist on being as visible as possible, we will continue forward. We will continue forward together.