Grieve, Then Fight Harder

I woke up about 3:15 am on November ninth. Earlier that night I went to sleep a little nervous, a little on edge. But I still felt confident. I turned my phone on, the bright light hurting my eyes and the voting sticker still stuck firmly on my phone case. I checked Google and all of a sudden there it was: 279 to 228. 51 more electoral votes. My heart immediately fell past my stomach and into the deepest parts of me. In a fraction of a second, I felt dizzy and sick and so defeated. Donald J. Trump was going to be the next president. I didn’t have a plan for this, didn’t have any reaction prepared. I couldn’t fathom how this had happened. How did it actually happen?

At first I didn’t understand and I’m still trying to. But I can see how Donald Trump’s words can comfort an economically stable (white) privileged family. His empty words and echoes of “making America great again” are words of reassurance to them. The promise of more jobs is nothing new, but when spoken with a tone that is designed to evoke fear in millions of hearts, it is effective. A lot of these families feel threatened by the progression of this country in the last 60 years. Seeing gay marriage legalized, seeing people of color refusing to be silenced any longer, seeing women finally begin to speak out against sexual assault, is almost subconsciously terrifying to them. People who have always had privilege are not looking to lose it. People don’t understand that the presence of another’s privilege is not the absence of theirs. Seeing a man who reeks of such privilege can be a light to follow.

There is also the crowd of people who simply hate Hillary Clinton. When she first came to the White House with Bill Clinton, she was immediately despised. This was because she was the first First Lady to go further than just supporting charities and children. She had power and she knew what to do with it from the beginning. This troubled everybody who was not used to seeing women in power, which is a big chunk of the American population. Men immediately began to watch her every move and paint a disfigured portrait of her. Too much emotion shown and she was too vulnerable and weak to be president. Too little emotion shown and she was too cold and didn’t care enough to be president. She made bad decisions and questionable choices, but this should have paled in comparison to the lies and vulgarities that Trump embedded in our country. Sadly, it didn’t. What would have just been an “honest mistake” to a male politician was suddenly a huge email scandal for a woman in the same position. A strong opinionated woman is enough of a threat – but a woman who has gotten farther than any other woman in history and has fought tooth and nail to be where she is now? Life changing and scary to ignorant people whose privilege is again at stake. Trump’s campaign fed off of this fear. She was in no way the mother of ISIS and in no way belonged in jail. She was a woman who crossed the boundaries of America and made the majority of people in power uncomfortable.

Some people posed threats if Hillary was elected. People were furious at the possibility of her becoming president. But they were not scared. They were threatening the lives of hundreds, because their lives were not threatened by her opponent. Because the majority of his votes did not come from people of color, people with disabilities, people with family in Central American countries. His votes did not come from Muslims or parents with autistic children. They did not come from survivors of rape and victims of sexual assault. They did not come from urban low income and working poor families. They did not come from members or allies of the LGBTQ+ community. Because all these minorities have seen and heard the cruel and offensive ways Trump has mocked them and disregarded them. If the new president is able to discriminate against religion and use stereotypes and racial slurs, what is stopping the people who live near us from doing the same? The lines have started to blur between what is okay to say and what it isn’t. The lines are rapidly fading of WHO you have to respect and who you don’t.

I am a white, straight female. I am middle class and I live in Philadelphia. I am not in a huge minority, but I am in fear. Over half of America now lives in fear. Everything we worked for since the beginning of this country is now at a huge risk. And this fear is not only in the what will happen in the government over the next four years, but what will happen outside our doorsteps tomorrow. This is immediate fear and immediate pain. Today is the time to grieve, but tomorrow is the time to fight harder than ever before. We refuse to let white men silence the voices of people of color after they have been shouting for years. We refuse to take the blame for cases of sexual assault. We refuse to stay on the other side of the wall. We refuse to let them take away the right to same-sex marriage after finally conquering the hate with undivided love. We refuse to take off hijabs and stay in the closet because we were told this is offensive and wrong. THEY are offensive and wrong. Politics is a poisonous thing to play with, and they’ve toyed with this poison too long. There is immense anger in our hearts, but there is also unspeakable terror. Because we are not safe. I have always been in a position where if I didn’t know what to do, some adult did. We are no longer in that position. The people above me and in power have broken this country almost to the point of no repair, but we aren’t there yet. They have done their part in breaking, and it is our job to do our part in healing.