The morning after the presidential election, Cynthia Neal Spence sat in a hotel room in Los Angeles feeling numb. She couldn’t fathom listening to political pundits and strategists analyze how Donald Trump became the next president-elect of the United States.
“I am still almost speechless,” said the associate professor of Sociology at Spelman College, who was attending a professional conference last week. “I am severely disappointed in the lack of allegiance to a world and a nation that embraces diversity, equity, fairness and bodily autonomy.”
Looking at the map of the U.S. and seeing a giant wave of red, Spence felt assured of one thing: The vision of the country that represents a true democracy is not stronger than the vision run by white male supremacist leadership.
“The same ideologies that caused people to go into the ballot booth and vote for policies supported by Trump are the same ideologies that sustained the institution of slavery, the Trail of Tears and Hitler and the Holocaust,” Spence said. “They are the same ideologies that prevented Blacks from voting and certain immigrants from coming into our country.”
For her, calls for the country to come together feel hollow when she views them as laced with vulgarity, misogyny and hate. “A lot of the wins and advocacy that Black women have fought for have benefited (everyone),” Spence said, “but we can’t count on anybody but ourselves.”
In that 24-hour postelection window, all she could do was focus her attention on HGTV and prepare for the day ahead.
In phone calls and text messages with friends, and in posts on social media, I have heard similar sentiments from women — and Black women in particular — who feel they are living in a country that is hostile to their existence.
Once again, we are tired.
We are tired of championing the rights of all vulnerable people when half the country doesn’t seem to care much about us. We are tired of trying to understand the thinking of people who vote against their own interests. We are tired of soothing the pain and upset of others before we attend to our feelings of hurt.
It is even more tiring that we are not given the grace to feel these feelings. Our reaction to the denial of women’s rights and Black people’s humanity is met with the idea that we, somehow, are the problem.
We are branded angry or unpatriotic but hear me on this: I can love all of the opportunities my country has afforded me while also being deeply disappointed in the ways that it continues to empower people who devalue me and my existence as a woman and a Black American.
We are clear-eyed now on how unwilling this country is as a whole to elect a woman president, and, for certain, a Black woman president.
In 2020, we thought it was Joe Biden’s leadership and an ideological shift that were flipping states from red to blue. But the results of this election are similar to 2016, when Hillary Rodham Clinton lost.
Both Clinton and Kamala Harris failed to win swing states that Biden won in 2020. This is, at least in part, a reflection of the sexism and racism that have prevented us from elevating a woman to the nation’s highest office.
In 2016, a multiage, multiracial coalition of women hit the streets with pink hats and protest signs believing that together we could stomp the patriarchy even if other women believed things were just fine the way they were. This time around, white women are ordering blue bracelets by the thousands to distance themselves from those 53% of women who voted for Trump.
So here we are now. Most Black women, some white women and slightly more Latinas are still trying to convince a majority of America that we deserve more than second-class citizenship.
I am concerned for women, racial minorities, people with disabilities, members of the LGBTQ+ community and any other vulnerable population that fears for their future. In Trump, they see a leader who has openly shared his disdain and disrespect for them, who is attempting to orchestrate the rollback of 50 years of freedom and who has given anyone with misogynist and racist leanings a moment to preen.
In the aftermath of the election, women and Black people began receiving messages on social media platforms, either from bots or actual people, containing derogatory comments about women and bodily autonomy, threats of sexual assault or jokes about enslavement.
Like Spence, I have given myself permission to rest. I have given physical and virtual hugs to the people in my community who are living the morals on which we say this country was founded and who can return the love and care that I give to them.
If there is a source of light right now, it is among the younger generations who are also hurting but not as tired and world weary as I find myself to be.
Last week, Simone Moales, 22, a graduating senior at Spelman College, was in tears, disappointed by the outcome of the election and the knowledge of what it meant on a deeper level.
Moales, a political science major, believed that this election was also a vote to uphold white supremacy. For some Americans, wealth and racial hierarchy are more important than reaching the true promise of America even if they would be living under a dictatorship, she said.
But after listening to Harris concede, Moales said she wiped her tears and encouraged everyone to tune in for inspiration.
“She conceded the election but she did not concede the fight, and that is the momentum that I want to drive us forward,” Moales said.
Perhaps moving forward means shifting how Black women advocate over the next four years, Moales said, learning how to work for ourselves before we continue working for the body politic.
“I know there is something greater that lies ahead if we continue to fight for our fundamental freedoms,” she said.
I know at some point, Spence will turn off HGTV and turn back to the news.
I know that over the next four years, we will collectively pack up our disappointment and keep it moving. But for now we will rest, until we are ready to fight again.
Read more on the Real Life blog (www.ajc.com/opinion/real-life-blog/) and find Nedra on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AJCRealLifeColumn) and X (@nrhoneajc) or email her at nedra.rhone@ajc.com.
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