Eleven pm on Election Night. My husband and I have been glued to the TV since about 8:30, watching the early returns. We’re flipping back and forth between channels, MSNBC, Fox and CNN. As the night wears on, the realization dawns – this is not going to be a landslide referendum on Trump. Instead it’s a close race that, inconceivably, Trump might win. And as we begin to digest that terrifying possibility, so do the anchors on the networks. The Fox News panel is gleeful while the reporters on CNN wear stunned expressions. The map of our country, with so much red, breaks my heart.
I don’t understand. I voted for decency, for responsibility in words and deeds, for adherence to public health information, for civil discourse, for action in saving our planet, for responsibility in sharing facts, for preserving women’s rights and gender equity, for valuing people of other colors and ethnicities, for hearing other’s opinions, for respecting our constitution, for treating others as we wish to be treated, for adhering to the checks and balances in our government, for honoring our veterans and for putting the people of our country ahead of personal interest and gain.
I did not vote in fear. Instead I cast my vote with hope, for the county I want to live in. And more importantly, I voted for my children and the county they will inherit. I voted for love of my country and my fellow citizens.
Feeling lonely, heartbroken and profoundly confused. How can half of the country thinks he’s okay? Look the other way? Want the madness of this administration to continue? Intellectually I know this race isn’t over, that we have several days of uncertainty, while mail-in ballots are counted, before a winner is declared. But emotionally? I’m struggling to recognize my country.