Like a lot of people reading this, I’m sure, I feel like I fought a good fight. Prior to the election, I volunteered for and donated to many candidates on the state and local level here in Florida while giving a token amount of both volunteer time and money to the Clinton/Kaine campaign.
From my vantage point in Hillsborough County (which went blue for Hillary), the Democratic Presidential ticket had a huge war chest and a well-organized campaign, so I felt as if I should help where I was needed: to support several state representative candidates, two state senate candidates, a county commission candidate, and a school board candidate.
I was too timid to speak up when it mattered. I was too afraid to let my more conservative/politically ambivalent or apathetic friends and family know how I really felt. I gave into cowardice and the convenient avoidance of confrontation.
In short, I was a microcosmic version of the weak Democratic Party that Egberto Willies called to the carpet in his latest piece. As he writes (bolding mine):
What we have is a Republican Party that worked very hard to win, and a weak Democratic Party whose leadership betrayed many of their constituents through its silence and inaction.
I kept my mouth shut when I should’ve been more vocal.
~~~
I admit it. I didn’t like her.
I did come to respect her for her sheer toughness and tenacity in the face of overwhelming odds. But that came much, much later—long into the general election.
For a number of reasons, Hillary Clinton was not my first choice in the Democratic primary race. I was a big Bernie supporter and donor, and like many who backed Sanders, was disappointed when he lost.
I disagreed with Clinton for pretty much the same reasons many other Bernie supporters did. The same-old, same-old “business-as-usual” Third Way/DLC/”New” Democratic way of engaging in politics. The calcified establishment of the 1990s making a comeback after Howard Dean’s, and later President Obama’s, re-invigoration of the Democratic Party. Her stance as a war hawk and a supporter, for whatever reason, of the Iraq invasion. For being too comfy with Wall Street.
However, I heeded Sanders’ call to unify behind our Democratic nominee and I supported Hillary. I gave a paltry $10 a month to her campaign, figuring the rest of my discretionary donation money would be better spent toward helping ill-funded state and local candidates in Hillsborough and neighboring counties.
I didn’t buy into the whole Benghazi and email “scandals,” of which she had been targeted in a witchhunt to bring her down, even though a Republican House Committee had found no evidence of wrongdoing in Benghazi and intelligence communities vindicated her in the email debacle. Yes, even James Comey fessed up that his “October surprise” was much ado about nothing.
And in the end...in the end...in the end, I did what I thought was right. I ticked the box for Hillary Clinton for President. Truthfully, I wasn’t even considering party when I voted. If Donald Trump had been running the same ugly campaign of racism, bullying, division, and exclusion of other Americans as the Democratic nominee, I’ll tell you right now—I would’ve voted for the Republican. Double damn pinky swear.
I made my voting decision based on how I envisioned my country. For how I envisioned the lives of my sons, my nephews, their fellow children and teens, the future generations who would inherit what we were to make of this country—of this world.
Yet, I kept my mouth shut. I told every person in Tampa whom I didn’t know via phonebanking and knocking on doors to please vote Democratic for the top of the ticket all the way down the ballot, but I couldn’t muster the guts to tell my own family and friends who were apathetic or undecided for whichever reason.
Truth be told, I simply didn’t feel it was my place.
In ‘04, when I was reasonably new to the political campaigning world, I’d experienced a similar disappointment when my preferred candidate, Howard Dean, didn’t even make it to Florida. So I hadn’t the opportunity to cast a vote for him. Instead, I thrust myself into weekly, if not daily, volunteer actions to elect the Democratic nominee so that the Bush administration would be unseated and the Iraq debacle would come to an end.
We all know the ending to that story.
Familiar themes, really. “You lost; get over it!” I remember feeling so heartbroken and angered by the calls of Bush/Cheney supporters to “get over” their victory, which ensured the continuation of the occupation of Iraq for oil, the granting of trickle-down tax cuts for the 1 percent while two wars were racking up trillions off the books, the torture of prisoners at Abu Ghraib and Guantánamo—heck, the very imprisonment of such prisoners without due process or trials. You know, rule of law.
Sorry, but that loss, given the devastation of its human capital, was a little tough to “get over.”
And when President Obama won four years later—and then eight years later in a landslide re-election—I don’t remember ever, ever telling my conservative friends and family members to “get over it.” I don’t ever, ever remember kicking the defeated party’s supporters while they were already wounded and hurting, rubbing their loss in their faces, or “drinking conservative tears.”
I do remember getting into an angry online battle with a relative when—prior to the ‘08 election—he told me that anyone who supported Obama “deserved to have their citizenship revoked.” I felt profoundly insulted that he considered me less worthy of an American citizen because I supported the Democratic candidate for President.
My disgust with Sarah Palin aside, I didn’t harbor any ill will toward Senator John McCain or his supporters; in fact, I had a lot of admiration for the once-prisoner of war who has consistently condemned the use of torture and continues to condemn torture today. People who voted for McCain in ‘08—or Romney in ‘12, and even Trump last year—are just as much Americans as I am. I will never stop believing that.
Of course, I have many policy and ideological disagreements with both prior Republican Presidential nominees, but I don’t disagree that both men would’ve been decent Presidents. I would’ve been disappointed if McCain or Romney had beaten my preferred candidate, but I would’ve heeded the advice of my friends and relatives on the right to suck it up, buttercup, and get over it. Although both Presidents would have heard from me as an engaged citizen as I contested their platforms, I would’ve gotten over our (meaning our candidate’s) loss and moved on.
~~~
But, as my husband put it, this election was different.
~~~
As my husband wrote on his Facebook page (I will not link to it to preserve his anonymity), “Donald Trump ran his campaign by exploiting racial fear and bigotry. He brought the worst out of people simply as a way to gain power. Donald Trump will move to the center fairly quickly now that he has achieved his goal (see blog.dilbert.com/...). But I will not forgive him for the ugly Anti-American campaign he ran.”
By his recent actions—and inactions—it is becoming clear that the prediction that our President-Elect would move to the center will not happen. In fact, some of Donald Trump’s more “moderate” promises to preserve Medicare and Social Security are already being broken, with the gleeful cooperation of Republicans in the House and Senate. Regarding some of his more right-wing promises, he’s doubling down. Building a wall, and making us pay for it. Repealing the ACA without a replacement—as of yet, anyway—and effectively leaving 20 million Americans without health coverage. Defunding Planned Parenthood.
That’s not the maneuver of a President-Elect moving to the center.
~~~
But it’s not even his predictably right-wing Republican agenda that’s most frightening about his election. It’s the insidious manner his election came about, and the foreign relations fallout that looms as a result of his election.
A foreign country’s campaign to influence November’s election in Trump’s favor. And not just any foreign country, but one run by a certifiable despot with expansionist aims. Strengthening our relationship with said despotic nation while threatening a trade war with another. “Making nice” with a brutal dictator—who is arguably the reason why so many Syrians are fleeing their homes—and enabling the Assad regime and torture.
Shortly after the election, I posted an apology to the world for our country choosing a racist, misogynist demagogue as its new leader. Almost immediately after, one of my relatives posted an invective that “the people” he was seeing express their disappointment in Trump’s election stop playing the race card, to get over it, and move on. Several other relatives posted in kind. Many of my other relatives and their friends gave them hearty online slaps on the back and approving “Hear, hear! I couldn’t agree with you more.” comments.
When I called a close relative to check on my grandmother’s failing health, he tried to rub Trump’s victory in my face.
“Have you stopped being depressed yet?” he jeered.
“I don’t want to talk politics,” I answered tersely, then asked, “How’s Grams?”
“This is America! Get over it!” he cajoled in a sing-song voice.
“[My husband] and I would prefer that we not discuss the election,” I iterated, asking again, “How’s Grams?”
“This is America! Get over it!” he jeered again.
Flashbacks of 2004.
Only this time, I would’ve rather George W. Bush be the one who was elected.
~~~
Humbled by the Congressional losses in ‘10 and ‘14—and simply not wanting to be a jerk about being “on the winning team” in ‘08 and ‘12—I’d learned to keep quiet around my conservative friends and family members out of what I thought was respect for their opinions and values.
In ‘16, several of my conservative family members—some very close to me—expressed their disappointment in both candidates. Although on social media and in the comfort amid like minds in my volunteer circles campaigning for Florida and Hillsborough County candidates, I expressed my views freely, I kept timid around my family and circle of friends.
Out of respect for their feelings.
Prior to the election, I heard “I don’t want Trump to be president, and I don’t want Hillary to be president.” from several relatives. The same person who merrily kicked me while I was down with the “This is America! Get over it!” refrain said shortly before November 8th that “either one who wins, our country’s porked. Just porked.”
I didn’t disagree with them. In fact, I didn’t say anything.
Out of respect for their feelings.
I didn’t make waves when I should have raised fucking hell.
I didn’t contest the lie that “both sides are bad” when one person—in spite of her flawed campaign and flaws as a candidate—was immensely the most qualified to do the job as President. Whereas the other was manifestly unqualified to hold the title of Dog Catcher, Esq.
In my heart, I guess I knew I wouldn’t be able to change their minds anyway. I knew that many in my family and circle of friends and coworkers would end up believing the right-wing talking heads on their TVs more than they believed their own daughter. Sister. Cousin. Niece. Colleague. Friend.
I let myself off the hook with this excuse when I shouldn’t have done so. When it was imperative that I should have raised my voice.
For my sons’ sake, for my sanity’s sake, for my friends’ and family’s sake, for my country’s sake, I’ve accepted that I’ll be in the trenches fighting the tides of fascism, demagoguery, racism, and other forms of discrimination in my country for the rest of my life, or at least until I’m a very old woman (if I live that long) and am too frail to fight.
That’s the debt that I’ll need to pay for my silence in the midst of the people for whom it mattered most that I convince them to not elect a demagogue. My friends. My family.
~~~
At a gathering of fellow activists and concerned Tampa Bay friends, we took turns saying why we were there. My husband was with me. When it was his turn to talk, he said he had never once felt in his lifetime (like me, he’s in his 40s) did he feel he would ever witness the end of America, but he felt that, with the election of Trump, he was witnessing it now.
As we all are.
This is America. Get over it.
It’s not America anymore if we allow unprecedented voter suppression and a return to an apartheid state, in which race and class determine your citizenship and voting rights.
It’s not America anymore if we allow another country to have direct influence upon our elections.
It’s not America anymore if one party—no matter which party—is eagerly and aggressively trying to stack the deck in its favor for permanent one-party rule, starting with fast-tracking its pick for Attorney General.
I fear my husband is right. We may be witnessing the end of America in our lifetimes. In our children’s lifetimes.
This is unacceptable.
And no, I won’t ever get over it.
Along with millions of others, I will fight this ugly tide. I will call my state, local, and federal legislators’ offices to express my grievances. I will protest every act against human rights, social justice, and the vilification of my fellow Americans. I will do what I can to minimize the misery of neighbors in my community and people in our larger national community who are impacted by the new right-wing rollback of rights and what passes for “policy.”
Every day if I have to, I will do what I can, when I can, to bring back America, or some semblance of it.
Even if it takes me the rest of my life.
And I will never remain silent again.