Dear Dad,
I’ve spent the last week pondering what to say to you, and I still feel unsure if I can express it properly. But I’m going to give it a shot.
First, I want to say thank you. Thank you for not reaching out as the election results came in. Thank you for holding back any sense of victory when the outcome was clear before bedtime. Thank you for considering how to approach me instead of just reacting impulsively. I appreciate you texting me about the passing of issue 44 and trying to stay positive with comments like “hopefully better candidates will emerge in four years” and “maybe both sides will find common ground to hold him accountable.” Thank you for attempting to be mature, but most importantly, thank you for simply being my dad.
It’s been a while since you’ve just been that—my dad.
I can imagine that having adult children poses its challenges. The transition into this new phase of life must be difficult, especially given the tumultuous events of the last five years and the differences that may exist between us.
I see you, Dad. I genuinely appreciate how you’ve managed to navigate the aftermath of the election.
However, I’m also deeply horrified by the choice you made at the ballot box. You are the father of two daughters—two intelligent, strong women whom you raised to recognize their worth. How could you betray us by voting for a man who believes he can sexually assault women without accountability due to his wealth and fame? Is it because you realize he is the type of man who would look down on my sister and me for our bodies? How could you support someone who doesn’t see that all women are capable of achieving success? How could you, as a father to two daughters, endorse a man who openly spoke about his sexual attraction to his own child?
What’s even more troubling is that you voted for him despite his choice of Mike Pence as his running mate. You lived in Indiana, so you know how Pence has targeted the LGBTQ+ community—one that includes your youngest child. How could you vote for candidates who threaten your own daughter’s right to love and marry? How could you endorse those who would deem her existence a violation of their beliefs? How could you support candidates who have rallied individuals who would harm your daughter if given the chance?
What does your clear indifference to the safety and well-being of two of your three children say about you as a parent?
And let’s think about your granddaughters—your only grandchildren. What future have you chosen for them? What kind of world will they grow up in? How will they perceive their own freedom of religion when they see Muslims being forced to register? What kind of individuals might they become in a society where racism, sexism, and homophobia are openly embraced, thanks to this election? What was once whispered is now being shouted, and my child will share classrooms with theirs. What will she encounter? How much damage control will I have to do to raise her as an open-minded individual?
This barely scratches the surface of my concerns. I could spend days detailing my fears. I worry for my safety, for my sister’s, and for my friends who belong to marginalized communities. I fear for those facing deportation due to harsh immigration policies, and for educated individuals who struggle to survive while depending on welfare programs threatened by the very policies advocated by Trump.
I fear for all of us, Dad, as you elected a man who glorifies war and believes in resolving conflicts through violence. This individual now holds the power over nuclear weapons, and that should terrify everyone. We face the possibility of catastrophic consequences under his leadership.
Even if we don’t face immediate destruction, his economic policies threaten our livelihoods. You might think you’re getting a tax break, but every economist agrees that his proposals are unsustainable and will lead to greater suffering. You may enjoy a temporary gain, but ultimately you’ll see that he prioritizes the wealthy over the working class—over you.
You’ve chosen short-term gain at the potential cost of our futures.
I hope you’re satisfied.
The sad truth is, I know you likely are. You’ve told me time and again that you don’t vote for issues, and that’s your choice. It’s your prerogative to prioritize your own interests over those of your children, even when they conflict. But it’s an unfortunate privilege granted by your race, gender, and sexuality, and a right you should feel ashamed to exercise.
You have let us down.
Here’s the thing: I know you can’t change your vote. But you can use your voice to promote positive change. You can follow legislation from your party that threatens your children’s rights and speak out against it. You can call your representatives and let them know that laws rooted in hate and bigotry do not reflect your views. You can challenge your friends when they spout hateful rhetoric.
Above all, if the Republican party continues down this path of oppression, you can leave. You can voice opposition to a party that no longer represents decent, hardworking people like yourself who want to meet some of their own needs without harming others.
You have a long way to go to regain my respect.
I know I’ve said things that may have strained your respect for me as well. Some of what I’ve said may have hurt you or sparked fears of me distancing myself from you and your granddaughter. I admit I’ve considered that path, and while it’s not entirely off the table, I’m grateful for how you’ve conducted yourself post-election. I appreciate that our relationship hasn’t deteriorated, even amidst my strong feelings.
In response to this election, I’ve resolved not to cut conservatives out of my life. You need people like me to expand your perspective. I’m committed to using my voice, and if you truly aren’t as bigoted as I believe, you’ll stand by me, open your heart, and listen. I have knowledge that you may not, and it’s time for you to start hearing it.
So here’s to us both making a genuine effort to put aside partisan politics to mend the rift you’ve helped create—not for your sake, but for ours. I still believe we’re stronger together.
Love,
Miranda
Summary
In a heartfelt letter, Miranda expresses her gratitude towards her father while confronting him about his decision to support a candidate whose policies jeopardize the rights and safety of marginalized individuals—including his own daughters. She highlights her fears for the future, particularly regarding the impact of political choices on her family and the larger community. Miranda calls on her father to use his voice for positive change and to reconsider his alignment with a party that threatens the rights of those he loves.