Gutted. That is how I feel in the last hours of the 2016 election.
As a black person. As a woman. As a mother trying to raise a compassionate child. I am so thoroughly hurt by this election that my body doesn’t know how to respond to the psychological trauma. My stomach is knotted and I have finished sobbing for now but, more tears will come between now and January.
To be clear: I am not afraid of Donald Trump. He is, by all measures, insignificant. However, I am afraid of the people who even thought about electing him. They are racist, gun-loving, homophobic morons who feel entitled to tell a woman what she can and can’t do with her body. They are mostly white people who feel failed by a system that has built them up to feel superior.
The elation and hope I felt after Barack Obama was elected in 2008 is exactly the opposite of what I feel right now. This pain is inconsolable.
I don’t want to live in a nation that is so blinded by misdirected anger as to reject the most qualified presidential candidate we’ve had in a generation. Shit, between this and Brexit, I don't want to live on this planet anymore but, Mars is a long way off. I don’t want to raise my daughter in a place that would glorify such vulgarity, misogyny and willful ignorance.
How do I explain to her that lots of people can make selfish choices without thinking about the global consequences? Who is responsible for this stabbing disappointment? How could you do this to yourself, America?
I know this not the end of the world. It’s really a wake-up call. I have to figure out how to turn this horrible feeling into positive action. But it won’t be tonight.
Tonight there will be tears, hugs, vodka shots and Biscuit snuggles. Tonight there will be many recitations of the Serenity Prayer while I feel so powerless. Tonight I will push back the dread in my heart and resist the urge to put everything we own up for sale and start packing.
Tomorrow is a new day.