Lost in America

Last night, before I turned off the television in disgust, I listened to a reporter somewhere in Michigan press a young white woman on why she voted for Trump. She babbled about American values, about getting our country back. Like her candidate, she was vague and adamant in her repetition. For a moment, she even looked confused, as if she realized the words she spoke had no meaning. The moment passed.

Last night, I forced myself to sleep for a bit, hoping I would wake up to find it had been a particularly bad dream. I refused (and will continue to refuse) to watch television coverage of -- well, whatever you call this. I couldn't bear to watch Trump speak back when it seemed impossible that anybody rational would take him seriously. I will not ever watch him speak, ever. In two and a half months, he will be the leader of the free world, and I will cover my eyes and ears, and I will hold my nose. And I will hold my breath until we come out, somehow, on the other side.

American values. Getting our country back. Top of the ticket, down ballot, the digital maps of the United States were covered in a skewed shade of red last night. Bleeding out. Mortally wounded. I watched, heartbroken. For me, for my children. For what I thought were American values. For what I thought was my country.

My panic had reached a fever pitch by yesterday afternoon. Strangers where I ate lunch assured me I had nothing to fear. That his path to victory was too narrow. He needed to turn a lot of states. I remained nervous while I fantasized about the pantsuit I would buy to honor Hillary's inauguration. If he could make one bluish state bleed, why not ten? And here we are today.

I still hold dear what I thought were American values, though I despair knowing they are indeed not shared by the majority of American. And I despair that the country in which I have always taken so much pride has been stolen. Stolen by a strange orange man who values nobody and nothing but himself, a man who made vague and adamant promises to angry people who were happy to have scapegoats. At the very least, I hope our resilience has not been stolen.

I take no pleasure in knowing these angry people will, at some point, figure out they made a terrible mistake. I will take comfort in hoping that all who were complicit in allowing this catastrophe to play out will search their souls, if they have any left, to help stanch the bleeding.