Living in the Wake of Tuesday Night

Many others have expressed the post-election grief and fear far more eloquently than I will. But silence feels to me, at a time like this, all too much like resignation, and I think this is a fitting medium through which to share our feelings on the matter. 

Like many others, I am deeply disappointed by our country’s decision to elect Donald Trump as our next president. Though I am protected by my privilege as a white person far more than I will ever realize, I have not been unaware or in denial of the racism enshrined in every part of our American history and life. I learn about it more and more every day, especially in a class such as this one. Sadly, my hatred of racism does not eradicate its influence on me as I wish it did – we have all learned and internalized racism, and we all must fight to recognize and reject its pervasiveness, especially those of us who can and do benefit from it daily. Perhaps it is this very privilege that birthed my utter disbelief Tuesday night when I watched as Trump’s votes piled in. It was awful enough for him to run for office in the first place; it was worse for him to be elected the Republican nominee – but this? This is far beyond what I expected; it is, in fact, exactly what I dreaded but never actually thought I’d see come to pass.

Though the charge of racism against Trump is enough for me to believe resolutely that he is unfit for the Presidency, there is more. He frequently belittles women and attacks them based on their appearances. He has bragged about the sexual assault of women and then brushed it off as mere “locker room talk.” Multiple women have come forward with rape and sexual assault accusations against him. Despite this dangerous, predatory rhetoric and piling-on of rape accusations, he had the gall to point towards the whole of Mexico and explicitly deem its immigrants thieves and, wait for it, “rapists.” He has promoted a mass registration of all Muslims in this country, as well as a temporary ban on all Muslims attempting to enter the country.

I am not even a part of the population most vulnerable to Trump’s bigotry, erraticism, and dangerous displays of ethnocentrism, but I wept throughout much of Wednesday and have wept many times since. My heart is filled with sorrow for the deep pain and fear felt by so many of my friends and peers: my female friends, my black and brown friends of color, my Muslim friends, my immigrant friends, my LGBTQ+ friends, my disabled friends, my friends who are survivors of sexual assault. On Wednesday evening, my heart was grieved as I helped teach an English class to recently arrived Syrian refugees – I am confident that they face heaps of discrimination as it is, and I fear for what they will have to endure now that we have elected a president who exemplifies ignorance and Islamophobia and incites a deep fear and distrust of the “other.” Last night, I stared into the eyes of the Latino/a immigrants to whom I teach English at Su Casa each week and was powerless but to listen as they shared their fears with me; unfortunately, my apology for our nation’s decision did not reverse it.

As a white woman who voted for Hillary, I'm dismayed by the statistics I'm seeing. I read an article entitled "Once Again, Black Women Did The Work White Women Refused To." And it's true, as much as I wish it wasn't true; 62% of white women voted for Trump. It's baffling to me that after Trump's blatant misogyny, a single woman could stomach voting for him. However, it's so much worse when it's done at the expense of women of color, who are far more marginalized and commodified and vulnerable than white women. If Malcom X is right that "the most neglected person in America is the black woman," it says quite a lot that only 3% of black women voted for Trump. 62% of white women versus 3% of black women. As Zaria said in class on Wednesday: "people are more loyal to their race than their gender." 

Personally, I hope to continue to learn how to fight for the "human space" of my friends of color, remembering that women of color will be affected more negatively by this election than I will. For now, I think that means listening, letting there be time and space to grieve, and choosing daily not to align myself with or stay silent among the so-called "the silent majority."