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Not What They Voted For

Not What They Voted For

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 My husband, a retired military man, doesn’t talk much about his service.But when he does, he’s careful—measured—about the details and the conflicts he may have witnessed.I did get him to share a little about evacuating citizens during Hurricane Katrina.But then (Saturday) I got a call while I was on the road in Baltimore.A woman who had been his office mate…a navigator who became a pilot…someone he once flew with on a check ride to…She had a beautiful laugh—the kind that filled a room.Always encouraging. Always steady.She died this weekend.She—and her crew—became casualties of a U.S. war.I just came back from a quick dash to Baltimore.I spent time in a beautiful bookstore, wandered through a wonderful library system, and got to greet Maryland readers—people who love stories the way I do.I brought work with me.My next novel is brewing.But I didn’t touch it.Instead, I let myself be wrecked by Kin by Tayari Jones.Because I needed escape.Not distraction—escape. The kind that reminds you why stories matter when the real world feels like it’s unraveling.Right now, I’m living in a dichotomy.On one side, there’s the book world—my world.Deadlines. Promotion. Strategy. The constant push to get our stories into as many hands as possible.On the other side… there’s everything else.Every time I leave my house, gas costs more. It has jumped from $2.65 to nearly $3.90.Every headline feels heavier than the last.And now, we’re in a war I didn’t want—a war I didn’t vote for.Let me be clear—I support the troops. Always.But that does not mean I support everything that puts them in harm’s way.Because this isn’t abstract to me.My husband—retired military—flew with a young pilot.She sat at the desk next to his.She is now a casualty of this war.This isn’t policy.This is personal.When things get heavy, I put my feelings in a box. I believe in compartmentalization.Put your grief in one box.Your anger in another.Your ambition somewhere else.It’s how I’ve survived rooms where I knew I wasn’t valued.Rooms where people smiled politely while quietly wishing I’d disappear.And yes—sometimes you smile to keep from crying.Sometimes you grin and bear it because the future matters more than the discomfort of the present.I thought I was good at that.But this?This is harder.When things were impossible for Jacquotte Delahaye and Sarah Sayon in Fire, Sword, and Sea, they turned to fire. The wish to burn it all down and clear away the rubbish, that they were presented. That feeling must be universal. I am very tempted to point out to those who enabled this hellscape why they need fire. It might feel good to curse out the people who deserve it.You’ve watched the news. I’m sure some very choice words have come to mind.But that’s not me.I have faith, a moral compass, a soul that won’t be damned because of enablers.Which means I enter rooms—and exit them—with grace, poise, and dignity.I will not let anyone steal that from me.Racism will not stumble me.Misogyny will not humble me.And those who don’t value stories—especially stories about history, power, and women—will never shut me up.So I will not let them win by becoming something I’m not.Nonetheless, let’s not pretend. Let’s open the compartment where the rage is.The world feels like it’s on fire. Self-inflicted fire.There’s a part of me that wants to point fingers.To call out everyone who said, “both sides are the same.”Everyone who reduced complex decisions to a single issue.Everyone who believed nothing truly bad could happen.Because now we are here.We are off the guardrails.And maybe—just maybe—these are the consequences people needed to feel, and unfortunately, they must bear witness to the blood that has been spilled.“Vanessa, you are being hyperbolic. No one wanted this.”Are we sure?Many of us have been talking about book bans and hiding history. Yet must they see an executive order force the National Park Service to dismantle the panels depicting enslavement at the President’s House on Independence Mall?“Oh, that’s a one-off, and now the panels are back.” So a cleanup on aisle nine makes everything better?And let’s look at the rest of the cleanup items.People say they voted for lower gas prices.But prices in Atlanta climbed from $2.65 to $3.85.Some say they voted for no new wars.But now we have Operation Midnight Hammer in June 2025—striking nuclear facilities in Iran.And Operation Epic Fury, launched February 28, 2026—starting a war.And the cost?A strike hit Shajareh Tayyebeh, a girls’ elementary school, killing at least 175 people—the majority schoolgirls between the ages of 7 and 12.Thirteen U.S. service members are dead.At least 200 are wounded—many with traumatic brain injuries, burns, and shrapnel wounds.A nation’s leader—Ayatollah Ali Khamenei—was killed in a precision strike,along with generals, officials, and their families—hardening resolve ...
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