This has been a difficult week. That thing that seemed impossible, a Trump presidency, will be realized. For 18 months I have looked to my husband for reassurance- “he won’t be the nominee, right?”, “but he can’t possibly win, right?” My husband, who is smart, steadfast, calm and almost always right, assured me Trump could never win. As a Bernie zealot, I wasn’t on board with Hillary during the primaries. I held on to my love for Bernie and his message until the bitter end. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Hillary; in fact, I thought she would be a great president. I just wasn’t convinced she was the right candidate for the times. As we all know now, she wasn’t.
I have been grieving since the night of the election. I grieve for our environment, which will suffer greatly under a Trump administration and for the billions who will be affected by climate change. I grieve for the progress we have made with human rights, for it is clear Trump has no interest in protecting anyone except those who already have the money and the power. I grieve for the 60 million Americans who were taken in by a charlatan, who believed his claims of “Make America Great Again!”, a ubiquitous and brilliant phrase that allowed the receiver to imagine any time in the past as the greatest time in American history. I grieve for my own convictions that made me sure the United States of America is somehow different from other places, that our citizens would not allow a despot to rule us, would not allow white supremacists into our most precious places, would not allow hate and fear to be our driving forces. I grieve for my own innocence, that I could look around the world and think, “there, but never here.”