Today was the day I reached my breaking point. Perhaps many of us have had a moment of fracture during this unprecedented election season filled with hostility. Two headlines pushed me over the edge: first, the KKK’s main publication endorsing Donald Trump, and second, a black church in Mississippi that was vandalized with the words “Vote Trump” before being set ablaze.
There are countless reasons why Donald Trump should never occupy the presidency. Experts far more articulate than I have laid these reasons bare. I’ve managed to mostly dismiss the few individuals I know who are voting for him. It may come across as elitist, but studies indicate that less educated voters are rallying around Trump. Silly folks, they don’t know any better. Many of my friends lean significantly to the right, and while we’ve had thoughtful debates about the role of government in various sectors, most are either opting for a third-party candidate or abstaining altogether. A few are even supporting Hillary as a protest against a party that seems to have lost its way.
You’d have to be living under a rock to ignore the blatant racism and misogyny that have marked Trump’s campaign. It seems he has unleashed the “nationalism” that lurked in the shadows of American society, giving a voice to deep-seated fears about “the other” — different races, cultures, and religions. He has normalized behavior that decent citizens wouldn’t have dreamed of engaging in before this election — spewing racial slurs or committing racially motivated violence right in front of cameras.
You can argue all day about tax policies, regulations, and Supreme Court nominees, but the facts remain stark. Casting a vote for Trump signifies an acceptance, if not outright endorsement, of the most grotesque forms of racism and sexism we’ve seen in modern times.
A memory from over a year ago has been haunting me today as I wrestle with my feelings. I was chatting at a family gathering about a potential trip to Washington, D.C., expressing my hope that my kids could see the White House. While holding my biracial daughter, a distant relative remarked, “Let’s hope we can get the White House white again!”
The moment those words left his lips, I saw the realization wash over his face. He understood instantly that I wasn’t the right audience for that quip. I’d like to believe he learned something from our exchange. Perhaps he reflected on my black husband, my two biracial sons, and my baby girl and thought about the hurt his words could cause. Maybe he felt regret.
We stood there in awkward silence for what felt like an eternity before I made an excuse to leave. I haven’t seen him since.
I don’t know what triggered this memory today, but I think it relates to my feelings about acquaintances and relatives who plan to vote for Trump. Just like those words that can’t be taken back, a vote for Trump is an irreversible act that I can’t forget. It’s personal.
We might cross paths again someday. I’ll offer a polite smile and a casual “hello,” before quietly moving on to the other side of the room.
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Summary:
In the face of a deeply polarizing election, one woman’s emotional journey reveals the irrevocable implications of voting for Donald Trump. She reflects on a past encounter that encapsulates the hurtful rhetoric and attitudes that have surfaced during this time, highlighting the personal impact of political choices.