Election Disbelief

For the first week, I couldn’t talk about it.

I was raised to be a patriot. In fact, my parents would have never met if it weren’t for WW2. Its lessons were omnipresent. Americans were the good guys, protecting the world from fascism. When my grandfather was too old to fight in WW2, he moved south to work in a bomb factory on a military base. My father grew up on that very same base admiring all of its soldiers. My mother’s only Uncle was killed in the D-Day invasion.

I grew up on the rule of law, the Constitution with its checks and balances, and the separation of Church and State. My mother and her family were Southern Baptist; back then the Southern Baptist’s believed in this separation of Church and State, and believe it or not, they have not officially changed their position. How many times growing up did I learn that George Washington was a hero because he declined to remain the President, stepped down after 2 terms and went home?

This indoctrination did not prepare me to witness an American people who would vote for a fascist, one who had already demonstrated his unwillingness to follow the rule of law. When the people spoke, he would not step aside; instead, he divided the country. When I woke up to his win on the Wednesday morning of November 6th, I felt physically ill. He had demonized my child, used her as a pawn in his divide and conquer strategy, and it had worked.

The people had spoken. They were willing to risk the loss of our democracy for any change they thought would bolster their bank accounts. The lives lost to stop facism in WW2 have been forgotten. Unfortunately, the average American has little understanding of our global economy or of history. They are too busy trying to keep their heads above water to figure things out.

Apparently, they think tariffs won’t affect the prices they pay. They think deporting the immigrants will stop crime and not send inflation up like a hot air balloon, and they are sure that they are not the immigrants in question. Fifty percent of people don’t even know a trans person, so they don’t care about their persecution, though history proves apathy for others to be a slippery slope. When do the “other people” become you?

Even harder for me is that somehow, over time, my own extended family has become MAGA. They are all Southern Baptist so I get that they are anti-abortion, but that is not their focus. They all watch Fox and think it is news. They hate Biden so much that they can’t see what Trump is, only that he is not the “radical liberal left.”

I remind them that I am the liberal left, but I am not radical. When I try to show them how Trump has demonized my transgender child, they just look at me with blank stares, blind to the harm. My own sister said “It’s not personal, it’s politics.” I feel erased. I hope that I am the crazy one; that all these anti-trans laws will melt away and all the hateful attacks on trans people are my imagination, that my fears are paranoia and will never come to pass.

I pray for the souls of my family because either I am going to hell or they are. They think they are Christians and I have strayed from the path, but I don’t see Christlike behavior in their lack of empathy. I would happily sacrifice myself to the psych ward if this turn toward facism, with its demonization of my child, could just be my imagination.

As for my family, my husband is ready to double down on finishing his off grid cabin. He has always been a bit of a prepper, and this is his backup plan for the three of us. My daughter has thrown herself into studying German and math. She has decided she wants to go to school in Germany for a few years, but is also researching other countries as a backup plan. She seems excited about the idea and is not focusing on what might be happening here.

For myself, if this is not my imagination, I guess I can only take it one day at a time. I told my husband I would get the concealed carry permit he has always wanted me to have, along with one of those nice purses with a hidden compartment. I will help him finish the cabin and keep working on the permaculture garden I have started, but I can’t just hide in the mountains. I will continue to fight for the equality of all LGBTQ+ people by writing, speaking out, protesting, voting, and otherwise following New Hampshire’s motto: Live Free, or Die.

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