I can’t believe we are here. I was so hopeful that America would not only have elected Hillary Clinton as our first female president, but that we would show the world that we are not a nation that tolerates hate, misogyny, racism, sexism, xenophobia, or bullying. That we hold ourselves and especially our leaders to a higher standard than the one put forth by a candidate who appealed to, exploited, and preyed upon people’s worst fears and prejudices.
I was never naïve enough to think that all the demons of our country’s past were dead and gone. But I believed that they were outnumbered by the good and the decent and the compassionate, that those who believed we really are “Stronger Together” would prevail.
So how did I explain what actually happened to my 9-year-old African American daughter and my 7-year-old African American son this morning? Since we’re on the West Coast, they went to bed already knowing it wasn’t looking good. There were some tears. I told them it wasn’t over yet and that there was still hope—but that no matter what happened they would be OK. We would all be OK. That this is how democracy works. We all have to agree to accept the outcome of a fair vote, even when it doesn’t go the way we’d hoped or expected.
I wanted them to go to bed with some glimmer of hope that something might change while they were sleeping. But it didn’t. So the first thing I wanted them to know this morning is that they are safe. They understand more than I wish they did about Trump’s rhetoric, and it scares them. To them it feels like the “bad guy” won. But I will keep reassuring them that their happy little lives will go on as normal. I will explain that while we don’t all agree, this country still belongs to all of us. That the best thing any of us can do is listen to one another, try to understand one another, take care of one another, stand up for what we believe is right, and speak out against what we think is wrong, no matter who sits in the Oval Office. That we can’t ever stop trying to do better and be better.
What I didn’t tell them about is the rage I feel that our country chose a presidential candidate endorsed by the KKK. They know about those guys and that would terrify them. I didn’t tell them about how disrespected and disregarded I feel as a black woman, or how sick I am over the fear that was struck in the hearts of Muslim Americans and immigrant families all over the country last night. I didn’t tell them about the bitterness I feel over this campaign’s normalization and validation of hate and misogyny. I didn’t tell them that I don’t feel OK right now, not at all. For them, I was all hope and smiles and reassurance.
I made them pancakes, because pancakes on a Wednesday are special. I took them to school and said the same thing I say to them every morning: “Have a good day. Be good people. Do good things. I love you.”
