Be a Part of the Solution
Three years ago, I moved back to the US, having lived for five years in the UK. Ever since, I have wanted to go back. I was a broken record, not even happy in San Francisco, a city most people would love to live in. When I quit my job this fall, the first thing I did was board a flight to London, hoping I might transform a leisure trip into a more permanent relocation.
On November 9th all of that changed.
The United States is at a crisis point. The Wall Street Journal’s graphic showcasing red vs. blue social media feeds demonstrates this clearly. We are siloing ourselves, and if we continue to do so, the situation will only get worse. The fact that none of my friends seem to be able to grasp how we’ve ended up here as a nation is worrying to me. It means I’m in a bubble. We’re all in bubbles, and we must pop them.
Tuesday, November 8th I proudly cast my ballot in rural Virginia. I was so excited that several of the poll workers asked if I was a first-time voter. “No,” I replied, “but it is the first time I get to vote for a female president!” Later, as my mom and I watched MSNBC’s election coverage, it became clear that things were not exactly panning out the way we had thought they would. Around midnight my mom sent me to bed telling me nothing was going to change because I stayed up, so I might as well get some rest.
When I woke up the next day to the news that instead of breaking the glass ceiling, the American people had chosen someone who thinks he has the right to “grab a woman’s pussy” if he so pleases as the next leader of the free world, I cried. At breakfast, my step-dad told me he wasn’t sure what to say to me. I called my dad and he also was at a loss for words. My mom wore black to work.
Since graduating from university, I have shied away from posting any kind of political commentary on social media, feeling that too often the conversations lack depth and end up further alienating people. However, suddenly I can refrain no more. Suddenly I must speak out and make my voice heard.
Suddenly, I don’t want to leave this country. My country.
Sure, during the elections I joked just as much as the next person about emigrating to Canada if Trump won. But ironically, once that became a reality, I realized I don’t want to leave. If I leave, I’m letting the hatred and division win. And, in some way, I’m being a part of the problem. So, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying, and I’m going to be a part of the solution.
I want to get to know people who voted for Trump. I want to understand why, what motivated them, and how to better address their concerns, together with my own. We must acknowledge that the system is broken. We must acknowledge that people on all sides of the political spectrum are scared and frustrated. We also must acknowledge that we are all human beings, worthy and capable of love and respect. This is how we can build bridges. This is how we can begin the process of healing and move forward together, as one beautifully diverse nation.
