What it feels like to wake up in an America where Trump is President
I sit at my table the next morning still incredulous. I woke early and knew I couldn’t fall back asleep. I could physically feel the news, a simple emptiness, weightless and sharp in my gut. It felt like the morning after a break-up or a death with its realisation that a night’s sleep has changed nothing, and nothing can change the unwelcome new reality.
I feel many emotions, but above all else, it simply seems so sad. Sadness above all.
Yes, I’m angry because my country’s first black president is going to be replaced by the foremost peddler of the racist conspiracy theory that delegitimised Obama black body as literally un-American.
Yes, I’m scared because the new person in charge of weapons that can literally extinguish our species is an ill-tempered bully who lashes out impulsively.
| Today, there are tens of millions of women in this country who now know they will have to find a way to handle the visceral reaction they feel upon hearing Trump’s voice, knowing he thinks assaulting them is OK. Credit: Reuters |
Yes, I’m incredulous that the next man to be sworn in on capitol steps is the first major presidential candidate of my life who openly dog-whistled to anti-Semites in his campaign, a stance I naively only thought I would experience in history books.
Yes, I’m horrified to think the new leader of the most powerful country in the world does not believe in the simple scientific fact of climate change, so that on a species level too, last night was a sucker punch.
But mostly, I just feel so sad. So utterly sad. The world is filled with a bit more fear and pain than it was 24 hours ago.
Today there are families in this country unsure if the police will soon hunt them down to ship them out. Today there American Muslims wondering just what civil rights an unchecked Trump can take away. Today, there are tens of millions of women in this country who now know they will have to find a way to handle the visceral reaction they feel upon hearing Trump’s voice, knowing he thinks assaulting them is OK.
I walk the sidewalk, aware but uncomprehending. I know that as bad as it is for me, there are millions of others who have reasons to worry for their physical safety because of the result in ways that I can’t and I don’t. My eyes mist up. It just seems sad.