So...What Now?

Some thoughts about the election, community, and grace.

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts lately, something to the tune of “If you voted for Trump, then fuck you and I never want you in my life ever.” I get it. Betrayal. Rage. Spite. To quote two great women: issa knife. On election night 2016, I had the same reaction with someone when the election results were announced and a friend of mine sheepishly admitted that she voted for Trump amidst my shock. And again, days later, riding in a car with a different friend who mentioned voting for Trump, which prompted me to brake to a halt and demand that he get out of the car, miles from our destination. My actions were justified by my pain. I felt righteous exiling them from my life. Their betrayal was met with just retaliation.

On Tuesday night, I met up with my friend Sonia in her backyard and we talked about our thoughts about what was to come. I told her, “I am not excited for the possibility of a Harris presidency, and I am not prepared for the possibility of a Trump presidency.” We watched the coverage on MSNBC, objectifying the hosts and making jokes and feeling more and more hopeless as the night went on. I stress-ate an entire bag of popcorn. I stress-braided everyone’s hair. I stress-went home and fell asleep before the results were called.

When I woke up the night morning, Google showed me my worst fear. Trump electoral. Trump popular. I sat in silence for about half an hour and then I began texting my friends. What the fuck? Are we gonna be ok? Should we move to Greece? Of course, I took to Instagram to see more reactions. Blaming certain demographics for voting for Trump. Blaming leftists who voted for Stein or not at all. Blaming Moo Deng.

I want to be clear about my belief on why Harris lost this election: The Democratic Party failed us. Throughout her campaign, she constantly made clear that her platform was far right on the most important issues to left wing voters, particularly immigration and the genocide in Palestine that has been going on for over a year (over 70 years, but ya know). All while smugly writing off any criticism by saying, “Well, if you want Trump to win…”

And through her commitment to simply not being the other guy, she gave us the other guy. Posts villifying the average Trump voter. Holier-than-thou leftists say “I told you so.” I can’t help but think about the scene in Pokemon: The First Movie where all the Pokemon are beating up their clones. It’s sad.

I can only think of the majority of Trump voters as victims, as much as they are perpetrators. They’re misguided. They’re scared. They’ve been indoctrinated to believe that a Trump presidency will solve the problems we’re all facing. Soon, we will all be facing the consequences of their actions. And they will not be spared. The leopards will eat their faces along with my own. I do not wish this for them. I do not wish for their exile, for their heartbreak, for retribution to be enacted upon them. I only wish for a world where all of us can be happy, and safe, and free.

I’m grateful that, in the eight years since 2016, my mindset has changed. Perhaps it’s easier for me now because the fact is that I simply don’t have as many Trump fanatics in my life. But I think, besides taking care of the most marginalized people in our lives, our duty as leftists also lies in learning how to build community with people who disagree with us, and finding a way to deradicalize those of us who have been lost in right wing propaganda. We cannot do this by cutting Trump voters out of our lives entirely. We cannot do this by treating so-called shitlibs with contempt. I am no political leader. I am no thought leader. I am simply a lover girl, who refuses to let her compassion be ripped away from her.

My best friend, Michael Abraham, said something that I think of often in his last column post, which was published the day after he died. Since yesterday, I’ve read it through more than a few times, thinking of what my place is in destroying fascism and creating utopia in its place. I encourage you to read the entire column. With respect, I will share an excerpt below:

Grace is a funny thing. I used to hate the word because I grew up Christian, and grace is Christianity’s favorite hypocrisy, its supposedly supreme value which it practices so rarely. Because of its religious connotations, people in the secular circles in which I run use the word grace very rarely. But wouldn’t the good world be animated by just such a value? Isn’t grace what makes the good world possible in the first place? If the conundrum of the good world is that we must live together despite the immensity of difference that defines the spaces between us, wouldn’t grace be our tutor in learning to value our commonalities? The best world I can imagine is one in which we celebrate difference loudly and often, but that world also seems very, very far off. Rather than the best world I can imagine, the good one that will do for me is one in which we honestly and enthusiastically celebrate the fact that we all sometimes forget to turn the stove off. Perhaps this seems politically flaccid to you, but, to me, it seems like the kernel of a revolutionary way of thinking. I have spent most of my life swearing I would never find common ground and common cause with those who wish my friends and me harm for being who we are or believing what we believe, but, recently, I have begun to wonder what would happen if I did. And I wonder further what would happen if I did so radically, without an agenda—not intending to change their minds but merely to demonstrate to them and to myself that there is a lot more that we share than that we do not. Perhaps grace is our tutor in love; perhaps the recognition of our commonality, our banality, our everydayness as subjects is the bridge to the world in which we come to celebrate and glory in our differences. Perhaps the reorientation I am proposing could make, of mortal enemies, respectful neighbors.

I don’t know anything really about the answer to the question of a good world. I only know that it seems we get further from it every day. And, so, for now, I am going about my life, and I am thinking of you.

I’ve been calling my friends a lot. Listening to them. Sharing their sorrow. Encouraging them not to think of those whose political beliefs differ from our own as inherently cruel or wretched, but more compassionately as people who share our feelings of fear of the uncertain, who have been force-fed a barrage of propaganda by the truly evil people of this world (rich assholes). Assuring them that no matter what, I will love them with my entire being. I think that’s all we can do for now, be there for our loved ones and hold them close in our hearts while we await the horrors to come.

If I haven’t already gotten the chance to say this to you personally, Reader, I cherish you. I value your life and your well-being. We will ensure our survival in a world that seeks to destroy us. We will organize. We will find solace in sharing not only our laughter, our joy, our love, but also our hardship, our burden, our sorrow, our grief, our heartbreak. And, by God, I hope we make art that preserves our love and our tenacity for generations to come.

Yours in love,

Ái Vy