It is 1:37 A.M. and I have class at 10 but I cannot sleep knowing that soon, I will know with certainty who the president-elect of the United States will be.
The House has officially gone to the Republicans. The Senate most likely will as well.The New York Times predicts that Trump has a 95% chance of winning. Currently, he has 244 electoral votes (though that will likely change by the time this post is published); she has 215. I know what the odds indicate. Even so, I am still in a state of disbelief, and will be until the results are in for sure. So I cannot sleep.
It is easy, in times like these, to lapse into sorrow. To mourn the state of our country, to wonder how we got to this point, to live in fear of what tomorrow will hold. As a queer woman of color, I feel the sorrow, I feel the fear. It is agonizing to think that so many in this nation hold so much hate for people like me: people with brown skin, women who hold hands with women in public. It is terrifying to think that I could be denied a job, or denied housing, or get beaten up, and under Trump, the aggressor would be legally protected. None of this is even to mention the implications Trump for president has for foreign policy, nor his various comments about just about every disenfranchised minority under the sun.
But behind the sorrow is love. Behind the sorrow is rage. Love and rage–seemingly diametrically opposed forces, but they are intermingling. I will not let this election kill my love–not for myself, not for my skin color, not for my cultures, not for my beautiful LGBT brothers and sisters and siblings, not for women, not for any of the aspects of myself that the state and the majority of America is trying so hard to suppress. I will not suppress my own anger–I will be angry at those who would rather protect their right to bear arms than the rights of their fellow human beings, I will be angry at the bipartisan system that forces people to vote against their principles for the sole purpose of contrarianism, I will be angry at the state in general for its complacency in my oppression… but never, ever will I let it grow into hate.
I will take my anger and I will take my love and I will not be defeated by this. I will fight, as I have always fought. Survival is in my blood. Those who paved the way for me to stand here with the rights I have today were not politicians. They were survivors, fighters, rebels; people who, like me, were sad and scared. People who, like me, knew they could not let their passions die in the face of political oppression.
If anything, I hope a Trump presidency signifies in an important way that the two-party system and the electoral college are extremely flawed, and that voter suppression is incredibly real. I hope that people are mobilized to change these things. I hope people recognize that change can, has been, and should be made through grassroots organizing, and I hope people are pushed to organize in the face of a Trump presidency, not to mention a Republican House and Senate, plus a majority Republican Supreme Court.
God knows we have no other options.