Free Thinking Through the Fourth Turning with Sasha Stone
Free Thinking Through the Fourth Turning with Sasha Stone
A Democrat's Lonely and Hopeless Thanksgiving
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A Democrat's Lonely and Hopeless Thanksgiving

Fiction/Satire

(If you have not yet listened to Part One, that is here)

women screaming

Janet was dreading Thanksgiving this year. She dreaded it every year. Holidays made her feel a sense of foreboding. What was coming next, she thought, how much worse could it possibly get?

It had been a rough few weeks for Janet and countless other women in the country. She barely remembered election night except that at some point, she rooted around in a closet, dug out her ex-boyfriend’s electric razor, and … shaved her head. Did she really shave her head?

As she lay in bed, still too depressed to make coffee, she ran a palm over her scalp and felt the stubble. She’d actually done it. She’d shaved it all off. And how could she have forgotten? One morning, she stumbled into the market in her bathrobe and was greeted with sympathetic stares by the cashier. No, it wasn’t the election they were referring to. They all thought she had cancer.

“Can I do anything for you, dear?” One of them said, touching Janet’s arm.
”You can get me a new president and a better country,” Janet had snapped back. The woman’s face melted from concern to a shared knowing of the tragedy that had just taken place. Janet could see her working it out in her mind. Janet was one of those women who shaved her head after the election.

Well, so what? Janet thought as she clutched her robe tightly around her body before ducking back into her house, slamming the door behind her. The only reason she’d gone out was that she’d emptied every wine bottle in the house, and now, she needed another glass. Yes, it was the morning, no, don’t ask her about it. Janet knew that if there was any time to remain permanently drunk, this was it.

What a terrible night that was. November 5th. She figured the election would be close but Rick Wilson had assured her that Trump would lose and lose badly.

She’d watched the results come in until she heard the independents flipped to Trump in record numbers. That was when her heart sank. It was like watching the Needle at the New York Times flip from Hillary winning by 95% to Trump winning by 95%. Now, the needles were all pointing Trump’s way again, all of the swing states.

How could this be happening? After all the ways the Democrats and the media showed the American people how evil and monstrous Trump was? Now, she had to wait months for her hair to grow out. What had she done?

It had all been a swirling nightmare since November 5th. That night, the night Trump won, she heard music coming from across the street. Skip Taylor, the man she’d had a crush on in high school and apparently a Trump voter, had music playing. It was THAT SONG—that YMCA song. He was the one who was supposed to be ruined after November 5th, not her.

And as she opened the curtain and peered across the street she could see him. There he was, shirtless, holding a beer in one hand and his cell phone in the other filming himself dancing the Trump dance.

He still looked good after all these—suddenly, she saw him notice her through the darkness. She closed the curtain quickly and slid down the wall. It was all too much. She couldn’t handle it anymore. She had to do something, to show the world how badly they were hurting and that all Americans weren’t racists and bigots.

And that was when she saw all of these women on TikTok shaving their heads with a wild look in their eyes—an act of defiance. Yes, thought Janet. ME TOO.

She hurried to the bathroom, mounted her iPhone on the sink, and hit record. As she ran the razor over her scalp, tears streaming down her face, she said what needed to be said.

“I am not offering myself up to the world anymore,” Janet began. “The world has turned its back on me, on women and people of color and the LGBTQIA community, and all for what, cheaper eggs? So what if mothers and babies desperately cross the border for a better life? Why do these terrible people care? This country is big enough for all of us, especially those who have compassion for all people and groups and put it on lawn signs in the front yard.”

“This is my testimony. I will be wearing a blue bracelet so all of you will know I wasn’t one of those selfish, bigoted, ugly, inside-and-out white women who voted for THAT MONSTER. I will also put a safety pin somewhere so you can see that. But now, I have to go cry.”

Janet had a vague recollection of having posted that video. Did she? She reached under the covers for her iPhone and tapped it on, then opened the TikTok app and looked at her profile, and there it was for all to see - yet another woman on TikTok shaving her head after the election. But all it had was 39 views. That was all. No one cared, Janet thought. The few comments that were there were mocking her, laughing at Trump supporters, and even saying, “Manson girl vibes.” Manson? Like Charles Manson?

Janet deleted her video. She didn’t need to share her feelings with such an uncaring world.

It would be days before she could even get out of bed. But eventually, she did. What choice did she have? Resistance 2.0, here we go. It would be back to Maddow every night. It would hang on to every word from JojofromJerz. It would be leaving Twitter and heading to Blue Sky. It would mean sending money to the Kamala Harris campaign because she will be the nominee in 2028. This fight is not over.

She even told all of us on Twitter:

Janet had accepted an invitation from 20 other women and men who were distraught over the results too. They had all met at the beach and decided to scream out their rage. To scream it out.

But even that hadn’t worked, and everyone there also thought she had cancer. For a brief moment, she considered going with it. Just allowing people to think she was that sick. Their love and sympathy would make her feel better, but instead, she stuck to the truth, “Don’t you watch TikTok?” She said.

No one in her town shaved their heads as Janet did, except the one woman up the street who really does have cancer. All the Harriz/Walz signs had come down. Most people seemingly just went on with their lives, taking their kids to school, jogging, and walking their dogs.

Janet had stopped watching out her window to see if any bad people weren’t cleaning up after their dogs. She had enough on her mind. Let the whole town drown in dog poop for all she cared. Everything was about to end anyway. Democracy, human decency, the rule of law. Project 2025 would now be mandated across the land.

Just then, Janet’s phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and saw her sister Maggie was calling.

“Hello?” She said.
”Hi, Janet. How are you holding up?”
”Well, I don’t know, Maggie. The world is ending, democracy is over, climate change will wipe out the coastal regions and concentration camps will be back, not to mention a racist rapist just won the popular vote. Things are going fine.”

“Yeah, I know. There’s nothing we can do about it now. The Democrats have some serious soul-searching to do, that much I know for sure. How could it have gone so wrong?”

“Yeah I don’t really want to talk about it, Maggie. What’s up?”

“Oh, I just thought I would extend an invite to our Thanksgiving dinner. I know you’re all alone out there, and I figured maybe it would be a good time to be with your family. Angie and Sarah would love to see you. They talk about you all the time.”

“How old are they now,” Janet asked.

“Eleven! They just turned eleven. It’d be great if you could come. I told Howie not to say a word about politics—”

“So he voted for Trump again, did he? Just like last time! I told you, Maggie!”

“Janet, come on. Of course, he voted for Trump. Were there any men in America who still have their testicles who didn’t? It’s time to get over it. It’s been long enough of this stupid war. Let’s just move on.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be around that. Remember what happened last time? He kept laughing at me every time I started to cry. It will be fine, you said. He’ll say nothing, you said.”

“Tensions were heated, but he assured me he’d calmed down since then. Come on, It will be nice. A smoked turkey and all the trimmings, pumpkin pie, apple - Mom is making her pumpkin cheesecake. We can’t let politics ruin our lives. Haven’t we been through enough?”

Janet was silent for a while. Then her anger cut through it like a knife, “NO. I will not go to Thanksgiving. This is a question of moral character, Maggie. You married a man who would vote for mass deportations and a ban on gender-affirming care. How could I sit at the same table, let alone in the same room, with someone with no moral compass left?”

“It’s just that …the Sarah would really love to see you and she keeps asking after you. I don’t know what to tell her. How can I explain that politics is that important?”

“Just tell her the truth. Aren’t you worried about her now? That she’ll be raped? Your body, my choice?”

“You really do believe everything you see on social media. It’s been almost ten years of this madness, Janet. When does it end? We all have to get along with each other as is. We might as well start now.”

“Not me. I don’t have to go along with anything. I still have my morality intact. I still believe in the dream of the Obama coalition and a better world where all are welcome, and there is no hate and no bigotry. I am taking a moral stand.”

“Fine,” Maggie said. “I’ll let you explain to Sarah someday. You do you.”

“Tell her about how millions of Americans voted for a dictator, her father included!”

“I’m hanging up. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Janet felt the guilt welling up inside her - the kind of guilt that can ruin a whole night, sometimes even a whole week. She kept seeing Sarah’s face in her mind. Funny, goofy, not-pretty Sarah, the awkward one. Janet always had a soft spot for her. She would come over after school sometimes, and they’d bake banana bread, then watch some dumb comedy from the 80s, and Janet would explain to her how much better movies used to be.

Maybe Janet was the problem. Maybe it wasn’t anyone else, not even Trump. Maybe she’d taken her life to a place where there was no point in living anymore. What did she have to live for anyway? One more glass of wine? One more night on the couch doom scrolling? Another four years with Trump as the president? TRUMP?! The twice impeached, four times indicted adjudicated rapist criminal felon!

Janet didn’t want to be alive anymore. That was the truth. She finally arrived to the point where there was no reason to wake up. She’d heard about people ending it all after the election and maybe that was what she should do. She could write a long letter to the world to explain why she was taking her own life as the ultimate act of protest against 77 million people who voted for Trump.

She cycled through the ways she could do it. Nothing bloody or violent, or painful. Nothing that would traumatize anyone who found her. What’s an easy way? Her gas stove, maybe? Sylvia Plath style? Pack stones in her pockets and walk into the creek, Virginia Woolf style? No, pills were the only answer. Did she have enough of them to do the deed, was the question.

She hurried to the bathroom and began rifling through the cupboards looking for some kind of pain killer if, when taken at a high dose, could be fatal. Nothing in the bathroom mirror cabinet. Nothing below the sink. She went into the washroom and looked in the tiny cupboards behind the washer. And just as she was about to give up, she saw a tiny box with a fairy sticker on the top. What was that?

Janet reached for it and carefully opened the top. A ballerina popped out as music began to play. Inside was a folded note. She’d never seen the box before and had no idea what it could be.

She carefully removed the note, set down the box, and unfolded the paper. It was a child’s scrawl, a letter. She began to read:

Dear Aunt Janet,

I have put this here as a surprise. I hope you find it someday. When you do could you tell me that you did? I’ll wait my whole life until you do. When I put it here, I said a prayer that if you found it, everything would turn out fine for me. If you didn’t, then there would be trouble ahead. But I know you will find it because I know you are a good person. You seem sad and lonely a lot of the time. But I also know that you are funny. And nice. I love your banana bread, too.

I hope you find this because I really want to have a good life.

Yours Sincerely, Sarah.

Tears welled up in Janet’s eyes. She sat down at her table, and her heart sank. Now she had to tell Sarah she found the note. She had to do it if she did nothing else. She had to make sure Sarah had a good life, even though her father was a Trump supporter. Great.

Janet thought of a thousand ways to get out of this. She could mail Sarah a letter and tell her she found the note and everything was going to be okay, and by the way, I’m going to kill myself on Thanksgiving. No, that would not do. She was too invested now. Someone was counting on her.

There was only one answer. She found a cashmere beanie, put it on her head, threw on her coat, and headed out the door. On her way to her car, she happened to catch a glimpse of Skip Taylor’s window. He was eating Thanksgiving dinner, but he wasn’t alone. A pretty blonde was holding up her plate, and he sliced off a bit of turkey for her.

Well, that’s that, then, Janet thought. What did it matter now anyway? Twenty minutes later, Janet was pulling into the driveway of her sister’s house. Upon seeing her, a big smile spread across Maggie’s face, and moments later, two eleven-year-olds were bursting through the front door, screaming Janet’s name.

And as she hugged Sarah, she whispered in her ear, “I found the note. Everything is going to be okay.” And maybe it was true. Sarah pulled away from her and said, “What note?”

Before Janet could process that answer, she could feel herself being pulled by tiny arms toward the house, a house bathed in the golden warmth of a fire, with the smell of apples and cinnamon and echoes of laughter. And then she heard distant music from inside. It was …. Oh, no, Janet thought. Oh no.

But And as she walked in through the door and saw Howie there dancing the Trump dance, she did the only thing she could do in that moment and maybe forever — she walked over to him and danced too.


Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I hope that you have a wonderful holiday. I’m so grateful for all of you. When I tumbled onto this site four years ago I was an empty as a person could be. But you helped me find my way back to sanity and you’ve shown me so much kindness and support over the years. My heart is full with gratitude. All the best to you.

Lakewood, Ohio, 3:50pm

End

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Free Thinking Through the Fourth Turning with Sasha Stone
Free Thinking Through the Fourth Turning with Sasha Stone
Essays on politics and culture from Sasha Stone's Substack. A former Democrat and Leftist who escaped the bubble to get to know the other side of the country and to take a more critical look at the left. Sashastone.substack.com