Trump Is President and America Is Shit-faced

I’m running on less than two hours of sleep. When my alarm finally rings in the morning, I skip the snooze button — something I almost never do. I look in the mirror. My eyes are swollen. My face is pale. I’m 20 shades of fucked up. It’s apparent the amount of crying I had done through the night. It’s even more apparent how difficult today is going to be.

My plan last night after casting my vote was to visit a local bar in West LA to celebrate the announcement of our first female president, but when I had finished, something inside me told me to go home, that that’s where I needed to be.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: ALWAYS listen to your gut. And I am so glad that I did.

I turned on the bedroom lights in my dark, empty apartment and pressed the TV button. This was going to be a long night. As the electoral vote numbers rolled in, and Trump took the lead, my arms reached for the Quran sitting next to my bedside. I grabbed it tight, closed my eyes as tears started to surface and breathed it in.

At 11:30pm, I finally decided to give up. I held on to hope for 5 ½ hours, praying, begging that God comes through with a miracle. I was willing to give up anything. I was willing to trade in whatever He wanted from me. For obvious reasons, I felt like God just decided not to listen. He had a plan. I don’t know what it is, and I honestly am not in favor of how it’s being dealt with (maybe He’s prepping for the apocalypse?), but I know He had one.

When Hillary finally came out with a statement for Trump to announce her conceding, I couldn’t bare it anymore. I wore my jacket, grabbed my bag and ran out as my mom screamed out, “You’re being dramatic! Just accept it!”

Not today, mom. Not today.

When I walked out of the house, I looked up at the sky one more time. If there was a good time to believe in Deism, it was now, because it just looked like God really did get up off his throne and leave. I was reminded of Voltaire’s character Pangloss’s words in Candide: We live in the best of all possible worlds. I respond to Pangloss: With all due respect. Fuck. That.

I drove around town, parked and walked the streets of Pasadena. People were still out, some drinking away the tragic night, others celebrating it. I wanted quiet, so I escaped to the smaller streets.

Anxiety had overwhelmed me. I needed sleep, but my body was too tense. All I could think of was, How could this happen? How? How did we get to the point where we had almost half of our country — our first-world, progressive, educated country — get to the point where it elected the most unfit person in the history of our country to become president? Is fear really that much stronger than logic? Is hatred and self-righteousness that much stronger than love and equality?

What does this mean for us? What does this mean for minorities, Muslims, women, LGBTQ…? What happens to Planned Parenthood now, to women’s rights? What happens to the future of our sons and daughters? What happens to my fellow hijabis who have not been feeling safe walking down the streets this past year, being attacked by bigots and racists? What does this mean for every single Black life that matters out there? What happens to my family and friends who rely on ObamaCare and Medi-Cal to keep us healthy? What does it mean to our immigrants that have shaped this country for what it is in all its greatness?

I thought I didn’t know. I did.

It means that we have to work harder, together more than before. We worked real hard, we’ve gotten so far, but it’s not enough. Our job was never going to be done if HRC would become president, but it would have been easier to deal with having her support, with having her as president fighting with us.

I go online and see all the posts of hope, optimism and unity. It’s something I am not ready for yet. It’s something I do not want to hear at the moment. I needed to mourn. Today, I do the same. Today feels like America just decided to get shit-faced, like a college frat boy, unconcerned about consequence, compromising morals and reason while destroying your liver, all for the sake of a good time. The hangover is going to be a fucking hayride. No amount of coffee and painkillers is going to let this bad boy go away easily. It’s going to take time and so much energy and will to be sober again.

Today, however, we are entitled to feel like shit. We are entitled to moan and cry and be angry that our hard work for progress was not good enough. Today, we expect that liquor and cigarettes sales will hike. Today, we can kick and scream and sulk in our beds. Today, we can take a break from those who opposed us that we kept playing nice with, so that we were the change we wanted to see in the world, accepting differences and sharing them to unite us all while we stood strong against hatred and judgment. Today, we get to do all of that. We get to be human, have feelings and grieve. I am on that boat as much as you are.

Yesterday, I broke my own rules. I cussed for the first time on social media. I showed anger towards others and addressed responsibility and blame. I even unfriended someone who I promised myself for years I would not do, but after constant attacks and ridicule, I felt it needed to be done.

Take your time. Take a day. Take a week even, but don’t be long. Regain your strength. Know this while you mourn. Love is not weaker than hate. Love is still stronger. The hate is just louder, not more present.

When you’re ready, and we all will be, we’ll fight together, because by God, we have a lot fucking work ahead of us to do, and B’ezrat Hashem, Inshallah, God willing, we are going to get it done.