Dear Dad,
I’ve spent over a week pondering what I should convey to you, and I’m still unsure if I can express it perfectly. But I’m going to try.
First, thank you. Thank you for not reaching out to me during the election results. Thank you for not reveling in the outcome as it became clear. I appreciate that you considered your first message to me rather than just reacting impulsively. Thank you for texting me about the passing of issue 44, for seeking out the silver linings, and for expressing hope that “maybe in four years, better people will run” or “perhaps both sides can work together.” Thank you for attempting to be mature, but above all, thank you for simply being a dad.
It’s been a while since you’ve done that—just being my dad.
I can only imagine how challenging it must be to navigate this phase of life with adult children. I’m sure it’s even more complicated given the events of the past five years, especially when you and your children seem to diverge in many ways.
I see you, Dad. I genuinely appreciate how you’ve handled the fallout from the election, but I must also express my utter disappointment in the choice you made at the polls. You are a father to two daughters—two intelligent, strong women you raised to recognize their value. How could you align yourself with a man who believes he can assault women without repercussions simply because he is wealthy and famous? Is it because you know he would disdain my sister and me for our appearances? How could you support someone who thinks that only conventionally attractive women can succeed? How could you, as a father of two girls, put your name next to a man who has infamously said he would sleep with his own daughter because she’s “that sexy?”
Even more troubling is your vote for someone like Mike Pence. You lived in Indiana; you know how he has targeted the LGBT community—your own daughter is part of that community. How could you endorse a duo that has vowed to strip away her rights to marry whom she loves? How could you support candidates who view your daughter as an affront to their beliefs? People who would hurt her, if given the chance? This is a time when those who used to hide their prejudices are emboldened to express them openly, encouraged by Trump’s rise to power.
What does your vote say about your concern for the safety and wellbeing of your children? What kind of parent does that?
And then there are your granddaughters—your only grandchildren. What future have you chosen for them? What kind of world will they inherit? Imagine the distorted views they might form growing up in a society that mandates religious identification for Muslims. What message does that send about freedom? What kind of individuals might they become in a world where prejudice is openly celebrated?
I’m not even scratching the surface of my concerns. I fear for my safety, for my sister’s, and for my friends who belong to marginalized groups. I worry for friends grappling with infertility or navigating foreign adoptions, whose children now face deportation threats thanks to Trump’s proposed immigration policies. I’m anxious for the educated, hardworking professors I know, who struggle to survive in our flawed academic system and are directly threatened by economic policies that Trump champions.
I worry about all of us, Dad, as you should have. You’ve put a man in charge who claims to “love war” and believes in solving diplomatic issues by “bombing the shit out of them.” This is the person now overseeing nuclear warfare—something that should terrify us all. A nuclear disaster is a very real possibility under his leadership.
Even if we don’t face immediate destruction, his economic policies threaten our livelihoods to the point where starvation might seem preferable to the slow decline they promise. Yes, Trump has promised you a tax break—the primary reason you voted for him, I suspect—but he’s also promised massive tax cuts to the wealthiest Americans, his closest allies. Economists across the nation agree that his tax cuts are unrealistic. You’ll either enjoy a temporary tax break or face breadlines. Realistically, you might never see those cuts because, let’s face it, who do you think he will prioritize—his wealthy friends or you?
You sacrificed your children for a tax break that you may never even see. I hope you’re proud of that.
But the sad reality is that I know you are. You’ve told me repeatedly that you “don’t vote issues.” You don’t consider the rights of others, and that’s your prerogative. It’s your choice to prioritize your financial interests over the safety of your daughters. It’s your right to endorse the unconscionable because you’ve bought into the Republican narrative: even if you’re struggling, vote for us, because in America, anyone can succeed.
You made your choice, and while I can’t comprehend how a parent could prioritize their own interests over their children’s safety, you’ve exercised that right.
It doesn’t matter if I believe you’re racist (I do). It doesn’t matter if I think you’re sexist (I do). It doesn’t matter if I see you as homophobic (I do). These beliefs stem from a lifetime of listening to you. I know you’re not inherently malicious; you wouldn’t intentionally harm anyone based on their identity. But your indifference makes you complicit. You choose to ignore the realities of bigotry, and that makes you as culpable as those who actively perpetrate it.
You’ve turned a blind eye to the suffering of the marginalized, and you should feel shame for that.
So here’s my challenge: while you can’t undo your vote, you can use your voice to advocate for positive change. Pay attention to the legislation your party is pushing that threatens your children’s rights, and speak out against it. Engage with your representatives and express that laws founded on hate don’t reflect your values. Call out your Republican friends when they espouse harmful rhetoric.
If your party continues to champion oppression, you can choose to walk away. You can cast protest votes. Show the Republican Party that catering to hate will cost them decent, hardworking individuals like you, who simply want their needs recognized. It’s okay to desire a few things for yourself, but it’s never acceptable to vote for policies that threaten human rights, especially when those humans are your own children.
You have a long road ahead to regain my respect.
I know I’ve shared many thoughts since the election that may have hurt you or damaged our relationship. I admit I’ve considered distancing myself, especially in my pain and devastation. But I’m thankful you’ve remained composed, and our relationship hasn’t suffered as it has in the past due to politics.
Moving forward, I’m committing to not cut conservatives out of my life. You need voices like mine to help broaden your perspective. I’m dedicated to speaking up, and if you truly believe you’re not a bigot, then I hope you’ll stand beside me and be willing to listen. I have knowledge and insights that you may not be aware of, and it’s time to start engaging with them.
Let’s both make an effort to move beyond partisan politics and work towards healing the rift that this election has created—not just for your sake, but for ours. I believe we can be stronger together.
Love,
Hannah
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Summary: The letter expresses gratitude to the author’s father for his restraint post-election while simultaneously confronting him about his voting choices and their implications on his daughters’ lives. It emphasizes the importance of advocating for marginalized communities and the responsibilities of parents to protect their children. The author urges her father to reconsider his stance and engage in meaningful conversations about the political landscape.
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