On Monday I felt hopeful. In just one day we would have the opportunity to vote for the first woman president of the United States of America. How amazing for my children; in their life times they had seen the first black president elected, and now they would see me cast my vote for the first woman presidential candidate, a candidate who stood for the values I hold dear, values I had been teaching them all their lives.
On Tuesday I felt a mix of emotions as my sons and I drove to our polling place. I always take my boys with me to the polls. I think it's important. Each and every time, I talk to them about what voting means to me, about the men and women who were denied their right to vote. As I stood in line with my sons at my side, I felt gratitude for the many (nasty) women who fought, who died, for my right to vote. As I filled out my ballot, I felt gratitude for the many brave, strong, hard working women, women who- against all odds- paved the way for Secretary Clinton’s candidacy for the highest position in our government. On Tuesday my feelings changed to disbelief as I watched the election coverage. I went to bed with a heavy heart, wondering how I would explain to my children that a candidate they had seen with their own eyes behaving as a bully, mocking people with disabilities, someone they had heard with their own ears degrading women and minorities, would be the president-elect.
On Wednesday I woke up to the official news that Donald Trump would be our next President. But I woke up white, straight, middle class and Christian. I woke up privileged and relatively insulated. I was feeling disappointed with the outcome of the election but I was not feeling the vulnerability and fear that I suspected my friends of color, my immigrant friends, non-Christian friends, LGBTQ friends, and friends with disabilities would be feeling. On Wednesday my heart ached for them, and I worried for our country. I broke the news to my sons, who had many questions. Their questions were hard to hear; my answers were honest. I assured them that we would uphold our beliefs and values, that we would always work for equality and social justice. I reminded them that how we treat others would never change.
On Thursday my worries were validated. People were feeling despair. A friend shared on social media, “I came to this country with the most beautiful dream. America, you broke my heart.” On Thursday I heard reports of violence and harassment. Teacher friends posted about their students bullying children of color, something we had already seen leading up to the election. One commented that she heard an eleven year old child chanting, “Donald Trump, he’s our guy. Build a wall and let them die.” Women, African Americans, Muslim Americans, and Latino/as reported being harassed. On Thursday images of racist vandalism polluted my news feed. My fellow citizens and I expressed concerns about these despicable actions that had taken place since Tuesday and left people shaken and afraid. We were met with comments such as “get a grip” and “move on” and “you lost; get over it.” People- friends and family, even- were trivializing deep and valid fears. I had not previously witnessed such hatred and fear following a presidential election. But this election was unprecedented, in myriad ways. We had never before seen a presidential candidate inciting violence at his rallies; calling for his opponent to be shot; degrading women, people of color, people with disabilities, immigrants. Trump didn’t create the monster, but he brought it to the surface, and some of his supporters were targeting their fellow citizens, fellow human beings, in his name.
On Friday I saw more reports of harassment and vandalism. I read an article about a high school in Florida at which Colored and Whites-Only signs were hung above water fountains (a spokesperson for the school referred to the incident as “a prank”). I saw a video of someone being beaten up for voting for Trump. Reports of bullying and assault in relation to race, gender, and religion escalated. I heard family members- both Clinton and Trump supporters- saying hateful things to one another, things they can never take back. I’m a positive, hopeful person by nature. I look for the good in people; I can usually find it. I work with young people; they make me hopeful for the future. But I was feeling far from hopeful. I was worried for friends and family, worried for the future of our country. On Friday I felt helpless; I wanted to do something, but I wasn’t sure what “the right thing” was, what would help the most.
On Saturday, while I continued to read disturbing reports of hate, I also read messages of hope and support on social media. I saw groups forming, groups that exist purely to offer support, encouragement, and safe spaces. I came to some conclusions and made some decisions. I realized that I can’t do anything about the election; I can’t control others’ responses and actions. However, I can control my response to what’s happening. I can, and I must:
be ever-mindful of my white privilege
let my friends and family who are feeling vulnerable and afraid know that I hear them and see them and stand beside them
remember that my children will not learn about right and wrong, love and kindness, acceptance and equality from the First Family but rather from their own family and from the other important people in their lives
teach the next generation of students to be compassionate and engaged, to advocate not only for themselves but for others, too
I must not retreat to silence. I must not flee to Canada (however tempting that might feel right now), but rather stay exactly where I am to educate, advocate, and come together with like-minded people committed to speaking out and fighting for our core values.
If we are to move past the hatred and make our little part of the world, our little sphere of influence, better, we must read more, learn more, engage more in our communities, collaborate more, listen more, and love more. And hate less. We can’t do this alone. This is the part where we find out who we are- as individuals, as families, as communities, as a nation. It’s up to us to change the future of our country. Let’s be the change we wish to see in our nation. We are stronger together.