Dear Dad,
I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating how to express my thoughts to you in the aftermath of the election, and I still feel uncertain about how to articulate it all. But here goes.
First, I want to thank you. Thank you for holding off on reaching out immediately as the election results unfolded. Thank you for resisting the urge to boast when the outcome became clear. I appreciate that you considered your initial contact carefully. Your text about the passing of issue 44, along with your attempts to maintain a positive outlook, such as hoping for better candidates in the next election and suggesting that both parties might collaborate to impeach the new president, meant a lot. More than anything, thank you for simply being a dad.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way—like you were just my father.
I can only imagine how challenging it is to navigate the relationship with grown children, especially during such turbulent times. I recognize that it’s even harder when you and your kids don’t always see eye to eye.
I see you, Dad.
I’ve been genuinely surprised by how you’ve managed to process the election results, and I want you to know I appreciate that. However, I am also deeply disappointed by your voting choice. As a father of two daughters—two intelligent, capable women whom you’ve raised to recognize their own worth—how could you support a candidate who has openly expressed that he believes he can assault women without repercussions due to his wealth and fame? Is it because you understand he is the type who might look down on my sister and me because of our bodies? How could you endorse someone who believes that attractiveness determines a woman’s potential for success? How could you, as a father of girls, align yourself with a man who has made appalling comments about his own daughter’s appearance?
What’s more troubling is your support for a running mate like Mike Pence, someone who has actively worked against the LGBTQ+ community—a community that your youngest daughter is part of. How could you vote for individuals who threaten her right to love and marry who she chooses? How could you back candidates whose supporters would not hesitate to harm your daughter if given the chance? This is not just about political differences; it’s about the safety and dignity of your family.
What am I supposed to think when I see that you seem indifferent to the safety and well-being of two of your daughters? What kind of parent does that?
And then there are your two granddaughters—the only grandchildren you have. What future have you chosen for them? What kind of environment will they grow up in? What will their understanding of freedom look like in a world where certain groups are marginalized? How will they perceive their own identities as they witness a society that seems emboldened to express hatred and discrimination openly?
I am filled with fear—not just for myself, but for my sister, for my friends who belong to marginalized communities, and for my child, who may have to navigate a world filled with prejudice. I worry about friends who have chosen to adopt internationally, and whose children might face deportation under proposed immigration policies. I fear for the educators I know who depend on social safety nets that are now at risk.
I’m scared for all of us, Dad, as you should be. You’ve elected a man who glorifies war and has an alarming approach to diplomacy. The threat he poses extends beyond our borders; it puts everyone at risk. A nuclear war is no longer just a fear; it’s a potential reality we must consider.
Even if we don’t face immediate destruction, the economic policies he endorses threaten our livelihoods. You might think you’re securing a tax break, but every expert suggests those promises are unrealistic and would ultimately devastate the economy. You could find yourself without that break, or worse, standing in line for basic necessities—all for a false promise that prioritizes the wealthy.
You’ve put your own interests ahead of your children’s well-being, and I hope you’re proud of that decision. I suspect you are, because you’ve often told me you don’t prioritize issues when you vote. You’ve chosen your own benefits over the safety of your daughters.
But here’s the thing: You can still use your voice for positive change. You can advocate against the harmful legislation that threatens your children’s rights. Call your representatives and make it clear that you do not support laws fueled by hatred. You can hold your friends accountable when they spread harmful rhetoric. Most importantly, if your party continues down this path, you can choose to leave it.
You have a long way to go to regain my respect. I know I’ve said things that might have hurt your feelings or made you worry about losing touch with your granddaughter, and I admit I’ve considered that possibility. Yet, I appreciate how you’ve handled the aftermath of this election and that our relationship hasn’t soured.
I am committed to keeping conservative voices in my life to foster understanding. I believe it’s essential for people like you to hear perspectives that challenge your own. So, let’s work together to bridge this divide. Now is the time for you to truly listen and engage with issues that matter to those of us who feel vulnerable.
Let’s strive to navigate this landscape together—not for your sake, but for the sake of our family. I still believe we can grow stronger together.
With love,
Anamarie