I’m by nature a sentimental person; I hoard train tickets, old books and worn-out sweaters. So the New Year can definitely be a trap of saccharine platitudes, but I figured that (as a part of my New Year’s Resolution) I would write something small to bring in the new year.
• • •
In 2018, I wish for retribution and comeuppance for those, many of them men, who harassed, abused and maligned people under them, many of them women.
I wish for a cleaner understanding of where we go from the weirdness and pain of 2017.
I wish for clarity, for my friends and our journey deeper into the post-graduate sphere.
I wish for action that follows action; like empowering black women with more than a simple “Thanks” after they turned the voter tides against Roy Moore for Senate; like protecting and uplifting queer people, people of color, women, immigrants, the disenfranchised, and particularly for any who have an intersecting identity of any or all.
I wish for spines, for those who stand on the sidelines and empower by omission.
I wish for cleansing of Instagram envy and LinkedIn covetousness.
I wish for a deeper understanding of the pregnancy situation in various unnamed American socialite families.
I wish for fiscal responsibility, for a better understanding of taxes and retirement.
I wish for grace under pressure.
I wish for more confidence in tackling challenges of work, journalism and adulthood.
I wish for us to leave Hillary Clinton alone, and to further unpack our own roles in passivity.
I wish for a better iPhone.
I wish for shows that I like to get recognition, and for Vine to come back.
I wish for media that shines light in dark places, that limns authenticity and provides platforms for those who deserve it.
I wish for grit for people who stand up against the machine and perseverance to stand by their truth.
I wish for empathy, in times when that is the hardest and sparest commodity.
I wish for us to talk about what we like more, and to love more than we hate, and to uplift more than we diminish.
I wish to understand how Owen Wilson still gets roles, and I wish for the maturity to be happy for him.
I wish for good things for Kelly Clarkson, for no reason other than that I think she deserves them.
• • •
I don’t think that what plagued us in 2017 is over, but I do think that it was a beginning step into something better. Let 2018 continue the trend of toppling patriarchies, providing stages for minorities, and righting some wrongs that have gone unacknowledged.
This year was, as Sarah Silverman said in a monologue on sexual harassment for her show I Love America, “like cutting out tumors. It’s messy and it’s complicated and it is going to hurt, but it’s necessary. And we’ll all be healthier for it.”