A New Beginning

Today is November 6, 2024 - the day after the US Presidential election.

I live in a liberal state with laws in place to protect the most vulnerable among us. Most of the elected officials in my state reflect my values. My community is open-minded and supportive of people from all walks of life. I am fortunate to be able to live here, with most of our family nearby, and not worry too much about my family’s financial situation. We are comfortable. And, our elementary-aged daughter - our only child - is trans. The most important issue in this election, for me, is cultivating a welcoming world where she can thrive as her most authentic self.

I knew it would be close, I’ve been hearing that message on repeat over the last few weeks. I knew it could be a tossup, as the pundits say. I knew another Trump administration was not just a possibility, but a real probability. And, yet, I never gave up hope.

Hope that optimism for a brighter, more inclusive future was within our grasp.

Hope that women of all ages and backgrounds would show up to ensure that our kids will have the same - if not more - rights as us.

Hope that the majority wouldn’t overlook the red flags. The hateful rhetoric. The insurrection. The criminal indictments. The fomenting of anger, resentment and hostility towards “the other”…

I went to bed early, as things were looking bleak, with the hope that ballots were still being counted and the battleground states had not yet been called. I awoke at 3:00am and checked my phone. “TRUMP STORMS BACK” was the headline on the New York Times. I felt devastated.

For the next 3 - 3.5 hours, I lie in bed. My brain ran through all potential scenarios of what tomorrow would bring. For my daughter. For the LGBTQ+ community. For women. For the many underrepresented and overlooked communities that call America home. I never fell back asleep. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I thought about the possibility that hate has become normalized and bullying is revered.

I called off work, drove my daughter to school and came home to loaf around in my pajamas and sit with the grief. I am grieving for what felt like hope. I am grieving for a future for my child that I don’t know that I want. I am grieving for my daughter, who has no idea that so many people believe that she doesn’t exist or shouldn’t exist. I am grieving for all the things I know to be true and all the things I don’t yet know - the uncertainty of it all.

And I don’t know what will come tomorrow or the day after that. I don’t know how the next four years will look for me or my family. I don’t know if this community will always feel safe for us, or for our daughter. But, I know that I know that I am a good human, trying to raise a good human, in a good world where we is seen and loved for who she is.

Today isn’t the new chapter that I was hoping for, but it seems to be the new beginning that I didn’t know I needed.

Today, I allow myself to sit in my feels and wallow. Tomorrow, I go back to building the world that I believe we all deserve.