Donald Trump was elected president of the United States, and I struggled to get out of my bed this morning. I thought about the Obama family, the Supreme Court, and about the utter bliss of having a president bold enough — and Black enough — check those folks who "wanna pop off." And then I remembered this photo of Ben Affleck.
Plainly, Ben Affleck's expression — ravaged and emotionless — is the only thing that really mirrors my own grief. His face literally looks blank, bereft of anything but the simple irritation of having to spend another day in this life. It's become a joke among my friends that I'm a little obsessed with Affleck's happiness and mental health. I've giggled about recruiting my Black grandmother and her prayer circle to shepherd him into a some kind of fulfillment, or at least some semblance of post-Accountant satisfaction. America has elected its pussy-grabbing president, and this picture of Ben Affleck — who made it through Bennifer squared, Gone Baby Gone, and the crushing weight of being second to Matt Damon — is what I need. When they go low, we go high. And sometimes we turn to sad men, because it's obvious our country doesn't care about sad women.