On Humanity and Voter Intimidation

The other day, I was happily browsing through my local pet store with my mom. I doted over the bouncy chinchillas with unrelenting enthusiasm as my mom searched for a raincoat for our dog. But as I moved towards the rodent care section (I needed food for my pet rat Bean), I was quite literally stopped in my tracks.

A tall white man in his early 40s wearing flannel and work boots blocked my path, fists clenched at his sides. I looked around me to see what it was or who it was he was reacting to, but his eyes met mine angrily when I looked back at him. I froze.

The man moved closer towards me, breaking eye contact with me momentarily to look at my chest. My face flushed and I looked down; my “Vote Hillary/Kaine 2016” pin caught my eye. Was he seriously reacting to my pin? I thought. As I glanced back at him, his eyes still fixed on the pin, my question was answered. He met my eyes again with the same unwavering intensity, moving closer and closer until I just about had my back into the rodent cages. I felt like I was going to pass out. I wanted to shout for my mom but I couldn’t make a sound.

“C’mon dad!” an impatient-sounding child yelled. I assumed it was his kid based on the proximity of the noise. But the man never broke his gaze, still looking at me like he was going to murder me.

“Daaaaad,” I heard again, and this time the man was being pulled by the arm. I couldn’t see his kid from where I was standing, so it just looked like he was being pulled by some unnamed force into the bird care aisle. And with that, the man disappeared. Shaking, I ran to find my mom, desperately trying to restrain myself from calling out in panic.

This wasn’t the first time a man had intimidated, harassed or violated me. For many women or people assigned female at birth, these types of interactions are more commonplace than they should be. But this was the first time I had been treated this way by a man upstate, and for my political affiliations.

I couldn’t believe it. A man almost couldn’t hold himself back from injuring me out of the hatred in his heart for me and the beliefs my pin represent. His hatred for a female politician almost had him punch a trans person in the face in front of his kid in the rodents aisle at PetsMart. Putting my anger aside, I couldn’t help but wonder: where is his humanity?

I recently moved back in with my parents in Dutchess County, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I would be harassed and assaulted frequently making my way through public transportation, something I realized would have to be removed from my life if I wanted to commit myself to focusing on my recovery for awhile.

Living upstate has been great. Everything’s felt peaceful and slow, and men generally never bother me. My treatment for bipolar and PTSD has been going really well, especially with the amount of traumatic or triggering experiences reduced down so much just by moving out of the city.

But I forgot about Trump people.

Like many of you, I’ve been endlessly stressed over this election. I relentlessly worry about the outcome, fearing that some of my basic rights will be taken away and that my community will become even less tolerant of my trans identity if Trump wins. And Trump as a candidate is pretty damn triggering for survivors of assault like myself.

So it’s no surprise that the endless onslaught of Trump signs I see on my way to and from my outpatient program every day upsets me deeply. This, I learned, was definitely the biggest downfall of moving outside of the city. So last weekend, I decided to generate a little more positivity for my own sanity by picking up a Hillary pin and bumper sticker at a local farmer’s market.

And that’s when the harassment by scary men in my town began.

The incidents didn’t begin and end at the pet store. I’ve had pickup trucks with Trump stickers try to run me off the road, tailgate me, blind me with their brights at night and honk at me until my hands shake at the wheel, forcing me to pull over and out of their way. And it’s only been a week.

I’ve heard worse stories about Trump supporters, too. My sister’s friend is currently going through court proceedings for a man who grabbed and choked her after her friend kicked in his Trump lawn sign. I now understand why my mom harshly rejected my idea about getting a Hillary sign for our own lawn. She’s just as afraid as I am of what certain folks around us are capable of.

In a way, I regretted subjecting myself to this treatment by taking a visible stand, by wearing the pin and putting the bumper sticker on my car.

But regardless of the real danger I could be putting myself in, I can’t stand the idea of disarming myself with these bits of comfort that are helping me get through this last week before the election in my small, conservative town. I can’t stand the idea of folding in the face of misogyny, in the face of cruel racism, transphobia, and sexism that seems to dominate the hearts of Trump supporters. I want to stand up to these terrible men who have scared me and my loved ones, to the men who have assaulted and broken me. I’m proud of the candidate I’m voting for (someone who carries the strength I aspire to embody one day), and I want to wear her name proudly at the polls on November 8.

Don’t get me wrong, I know Hillary isn’t the perfect candidate. Regardless of whether or not I agree with their points, I welcome my liberal and radical friends’ opinion and their critique for our two-party system and the democratic candidate.

But regardless of who you’re voting for, whether it be Gary Johnson or Donald Trump, I would never ever go out of my way to intimidate or hurt you. I cannot begin to understand the cruelty, the overwhelming misogyny and the complete disregard for the lives of others that it takes to react violently towards Hillary supporters.

And so through my pin, my bumper sticker, my vote and my unwillingness to back down, I’m protesting hatred no matter the cost. I will take a stand.

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