We made it until midnight last night. Nothing had been called officially, but numb with shock and disbelief, we resigned to turn off the TV and wait for the final results that would greet us this morning. Rolling over at 5:45 this morning, I know I held out hope that the BBC, Globe, and CBC alerts on my phone would have a different name, the right name, announced as the next President. My stomach sank. And it remains there.
Shock, disbelief, dismay, and utter bewilderment. Fear, and sadness. Shame.
How has a nation willingly and freely chosen this man to lead them? To represent them. To protect and defend and advocate for them?
How have they decided that what he stands for is the example that our children ought to be following?
How are they proud to have him stand on the national and international stage, spittle spewing from his racist, sexist, fear-mongering, antagonistic mouth, telling our children that this is the man that we can confidently follow; this is the man who represents our common values. This is the man that should inspire us all to be better and to make this planet better.
So many smug little comments I’ve made over the last few months about ‘being thankful that I have my Canadian passport to fall back on.’ That’s hardly the answer. It sure as shit makes returning there a hell of a lot more real. But we are all in bed with this moronic elephant. We are all going to feel his every roll. And for the first time, I feel a a real unease. An unease at the choice this nation has made. An unease at what this reveals as the guiding values and principles that such a powerful nation upholds in electing this man. An unease at the impact this poses on our safety living in New York.
Anxious in going to sleep last night, for the first time asking ‘if we’d be ok’, I reassured my daughter last night ‘not to worry. There’s no way Trump will win.’ We’ve talked a lot about the election over the last few months- the signs and the talk has been visible even to a 7 year old, and just on Monday the playground erupted into a ‘Hil-ar-y’ chanting party…(it’s New York. and it’s a certain part of New York, where the blue flows).
I don’t know what to tell her this morning. I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I don’t know if we’re going to be ok.
What a colossal disappointment.