part of me died that night. but "Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air."

I will never forget election night holding a knife against my wrist, then the next day driving up to Vancouver, BC to be with my (now wife). We wound up in an Anarchist squat where I had to walk them through how the electoral college works.

As a redhead for whom the phoenix has been a deeply beloved and prevalent symbol, I am with you. Side note: I've designed a multitude of tattoos for others yet have none myself & am seriously considering my first, and the phoenix sits at the top of the list.

Plath understood wrath, ruin, and retribution. I love that you've invoked her/the iron undergirding this night of celebration. We have joy, and compassion for the vulnerable, on our side. Those are not the same as softness.

Sylvia Plath could distill down rage.