Like so many Americans, I sat in front of the TV on Tuesday night, watching as the elections results poured in. Like half our country, I hoped for history to be made. I hoped and expected our first woman president to be elected. I was looking forward to an ecstatic time in our nation’s history, a symbol of progress and equality for all.
I woke up the next day to something I did not expect, to something that I did not want.
Over the past 24 hours I have had so many emotions. I am confused, angry, sad, scared, hopeless. I have written and rewritten words in my head to express what I am thinking because writing is the only way I feel I can cope. I am desperately trying now to find the right words to reach out to not only the people who feel just as I do—hurt and confused and scared, and I know there is many of you as my whole Facebook feed is filled with your worries and calls for love—but also the people who have made Donald Trump our next president, the people who voted for a candidate who has encourage violence and sexual assault, who has perpetuated ethnic and religious stereotypes, and who is threatened by powerful women like Hillary Clinton.
Living abroad for much of this election, I was confused from the very beginning. Confused how the American people could continue to hear the blasphemous things Trump was saying and yet still he was the front-runner of the Republican party. How could Trump outright lie and people believe him? How could he call all Mexicans rapists and everyone not be outraged?
I’ll admit it. I thought about not returning to the U.S. I thought about leaving the country before anyone was even talking about moving to Canada if Trump was elected president. I joked with my American colleagues in our office before school that I wouldn’t move home to the U.S. until Donald Trump was out of the race. Some of them said the same.
“And if he wins,” I distinctly remember saying one morning. “I will never move back home again. I will never claim to be an American again.”
At that point in time I thought there was no way he could win the Republican candidacy. I thought that people would come to their senses, that they would see that this was no longer about good TV and instead it was about hiring the president of the United States, one of the most powerful positions in the world.
It became clear as I packed my bags to come home that he would indeed be the Republican candidate. I was baffled. Astonished. Confused.
I honestly couldn’t understand how it had gotten this far. Who had supported him? All my friends on Facebook were either adamant Hillary or Bernie supporters. From my social media feeds I could not see a single thread of Trump support. Other people I talked to abroad (not just people in my small town in Thailand) couldn’t understand either.
“I don’t know who’s supporting him,” one American woman in India told me. “None of my friends nor family support him.”
When I first flew back to the U.S. I stopped in D.C. to visit my college roommate. On a run through the mall we passed dozens of school groups from across the country—Ohio, Virginia, Georgia. Many of the kids were sporting Trump t-shirts; a few of the adult chaperones were as well. It was the first time I had witnessed anyone publicly supporting him.
“So it’s real,” I said to my former roommate Jenica. It was the first symptom of reverse culture shock.
Later on that same run, as we were passing through the Teddy Roosevelt memorial (one of Jenica’s favorites) I overheard a 14-year-old boy say: “Thank god we haven’t had a woman president yet. “
My mouth nearly dropped to the floor. How did this mindset still exist in the U.S.? How could this boy, at only 14-years-old, already think that woman should not be in places of power? That they did not belong in the Oval Office? What had a woman ever done to him?
I thought then of my female students, my little girls who were forced to go to Girl Scouts every Thursday afternoon to learn how to cook and clean while the boys got to tie ropes and shout chants outside. I thought of their cultural expectation that girls should be thin and fragile, how my Thai teachers had not wanted me to lift too many books or chairs or even a desk, that these tasks were for my 8-year-old boy students to do for me. I thought then of how my little girls had commented on my big legs when I came out to cheer them on during Sports’ Day practice. “Yes, I have big legs,” I told them. “I have big, strong legs so I can run just as fast as all the boys. Do you have strong legs to beat the boys?”
I had worked so hard to instill confidence in my girls, to show them they could be and do anything they wanted to. This 14-year-old boy was dismantling all of that.
I had grown up thinking I was capable of anything I set my mind to. I grew up thinking that boys and girls were equal. I grew up with strong female role models that instilled in me a fierce independence and ambition. I hadn’t realized before then that not everyone had grown up the same way I had. I didn’t realize that despite our similar American roots, some could believe that women shouldn’t be president. These beliefs were archaic to me, representative of a culture that was not my own, of a country who had not made the sort of tolerant progress that ours had.
As I returned home, I continued to be astonished by the amount of support Trump received. And as the scandals grew and it became more and more clear that Trump was devoid of any moral compass, my astonishment grew to disbelief. How could anyone vote for him over Hillary?
Now I am not naïve to the reasons people dislike Hillary. But it seemed wrong to me that people could take so much from Trump, a white male, and so little from Hillary. They were tolerant of sexist, racist, and so many other horribly demeaning comments and yet the emails that have loomed over Hillary’s head for over a year could never be forgiven.
People who support Trump have told me it’s not a woman thing, that it’s not about gender. But how can it not be? How can it not be about gender or race or religion? It is all of those things.
But let’s focus on the woman card.
How is it that a man with absolutely no government experience has beaten a woman who has been called by the president himself the most experienced candidate to ever run for president? If Hillary were a man would she have won? If Hillary were a man would everyone have forgiven her for her emails? Would everyone see Trump for the sexist, racist, bully that he is? I think so. Many won’t agree. That’s okay. It’s hard to say for sure what we would do in hypothetical situations. Like how would you react if you found out you had cancer? You hope that you can accept it with grace and move forward but in reality you might not be able to.
Like so many people I woke up yesterday morning feeling utterly hopeless. I didn’t know how to respond, how to react. This had all been so unimaginable to me, even impossible. How could so many people choose a white male supremacist over a qualified, dignified female?
There are people calling for us to love one another. When it is so starkly clear that there is a deep rift in our country, one far deeper than anyone had previously predicted, people are calling for us to come together. People are calling for unification, for healing. They are calling for the end of hate.
This hate, it goes both ways. During this election season there was so much hate coming from the Trump side, not necessarily from his supporters but certainly from the words Trump was speaking. Now though, if you are an avid Hillary supporter saying F*** TRUMP or You’re not my friend if you voted for Trump, think twice. You are now spreading that same hate that you despised.
It’s something I’ve thought a lot about in the last few weeks leading up to this election. If I cannot understand why people are voting for Trump am I spreading the same intolerance that I dislike in Trump and his supporters? If I can’t love and accept them just as much as the people who view the world the same way I do, then aren’t I a bigot too?
In the glimmers of hope today, I saw this election outcome as an opportunity. Despite how dark it may seem, having Trump as president will give me the opportunity to practice tolerance towards the people I least understand—the 14-year-old boy who thinks a woman shouldn’t be president and others who stand in solidarity with what Trump stands for. This is a time to start conversations, to listen to one another. Not to argue but to deeply listen to each other and try to understand one another’s perspective.
I believe that the majority of people who voted for Trump do not align with his racist, sexist, Muslim fearing comments. I have to believe that. The America I know doesn’t stand in solidarity with casting out immigrants or a religion or treating women like objects. When I hear news reporters and read Facebook posts categorizing the people who voted for Trump as racists and sexists and bigots I feel as if we are doing the same thing Trump did when he called all Mexicans rapists. We are making a broad generalization. Certainly half of our country does not believe that it’s okay to sexually assault women or that Muslims should not be allowed in our country. But yet there are reasons people voted for him.
Maybe it’s fear.
Fear has driven so much of this election. Fear has motivated people to vote for Trump. They are fearful of change, fearful of the “establishment”, fearful of their jobs being taken by immigrants (they’re not), fearful of their guns being taken away by Hillary (they’re not). So many of Trump’s comments have been fueled by fear. He called Hillary a nasty woman out of fear that a woman who was smarter and more qualified than him could win the presidency. He wants to build a wall because he’s fearful of immigrants and how they can change our country. (Our country was built on immigrants. It will continue to be built on immigrants.) Hillary never fully confronted her emails in a public debate because she feared what voters would think. She feared that if she said she had used a private email server not to be malicious or reckless but because she couldn’t use technology very well and this was easier for her (look up the latest episode of This American Life Master of Her Domain, it talks about this), that voters would think her unqualified.
I am fearful now. I am fearful for women’s rights and LGBTQ rights, for Muslims and people of color, for immigrants and for every minority in this country who makes us who we are. I am fearful of the white uneducated male that news reports keep claiming are the reason Trump has won the election. I am fearful that all the progress we have made in the last 8 years with Obama as our president will vanish. I am fearful that our healthcare system will dissipate and that my family will be left with no health insurance. I am afraid. I am scared. And that is okay. What is not okay is to act on that fear. Because actions motivated by fear are rarely pure.
So that is why I will not be moving back to Thailand. Or to Canada for that matter. The woman who a year ago said she would never move back to the U.S. if Trump was elected president is staying here because I realize that that comment was said out of fear. Now though, I must face my fears and stand up for what I believe in. I must fight for the America that I remember, the America that I celebrated with my students on 4th of July and Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas. I must fight for the promotion of love and respect for all, whether Trump supporters or not. I must fight for healthcare and women and diversity. I must fight because as Hillary so poignantly said: “Never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it.