On Wednesday, Nov. 6, Kamala Harris conceded the presidential race to her opponent, Donald Trump. Harris’s campaign was full of joy and hope for her supporters, and the loss devastated the many marginalized communities that fear Trump’s conservative social beliefs and proposed policies.
As someone with many friends who are queer or people of color, and as a woman myself, I was also consumed by dread at what Trump’s presidency could mean for my future. How could I possibly protect my friends? How could I protect myself?
It had been so refreshing to see a political candidate focused on uplifting her communities instead of just tearing down her opponents, a woman unafraid to be defiantly happy even when the opposition thought she was crazy or laughed too much.
Watching the states turn red Tuesday night, I felt like hope was lost on the ballot. America chose a hateful man over a joyful woman. I went from worrying about what internship I’d get this summer to worrying about the safety of my loved ones in the course of 24 hours.
The worst part was the powerlessness. I had done everything I could do. I cast my vote for the candidate I believed in, and now there was nothing. Unlike our friends across the aisle, I have no desire to storm a government building. Too many steps.
So what comes next post-election? What are any of us crushed by the results supposed to do? Shall we all start a commune in the middle of Canada? Get really into recreational drugs? Lobotomize ourselves so we can be excited for the next four years?
At this point, our greatest defiance comes back to what Harris campaigned around — joy. The most hateful of the Trump voters want us to be miserable. They want us to post ourselves crying so they can make X threads laughing at our grief. They’re delighting at TV personalities’ dismay. To the extremists, this is proof that they didn’t just win the presidency — they crushed our spirits.
To be fair, not every Trump voter wants us to be miserable — not by a long shot. I doubt most of them are just sitting around, evilly plotting to drink liberal tears. While we are a country divided, the damage is not yet irreparable.
And before I go further, I want to be clear that I’m not demanding immediate joy from anyone. I am not demanding compliance. We all deserve space for our grief, anger and fear without a timeline. I come from a place of great privilege to be able to think of happiness so quickly, and I acknowledge that.
Remember, this is not joy for the sake of those who voted against us. I am not asking you to smile and grit your teeth to make your conservative grandparents more comfortable at Thanksgiving. Instead, I am suggesting that you choose yourself. Take care of yourself. Be gentle to yourself.
I want to encourage you to be joyful as well as angry. Have happiness amidst the horror. Remember that there are still good things, they have not taken everything from us. Buy yourself your favorite treat, watch funny dog videos and hold your loved ones close. Stroll through the woods, then take pictures of the sunset. Explore a museum you haven’t visited before.
Notice the good things that are still there. Notice the group of friends lighting candles for a birthday cake in the middle of the quad, the service dog opening an elevator with its paw or how your favorite lunch tastes.
Dance and be loud and make art. Support your favorite small business and play pick-up soccer on the Cathedral lawn. Get excited for the holidays, for ice skating and peppermint and gifts. We cannot hand over our happiness with the country.
We must still have something to believe in, something to organize around, something that keeps us waking up every day even in the face of something terrifying. And that could be as small as your favorite podcast, your best friend’s smile or iced coffee. Even just the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
It would be easy to give up. So many of us had so much hope in this election, and it’s understandable to feel crushed, or betrayed, or stupid for believing that maybe this country would have its first female president, and a woman of color at that.
Joy may have lost on the ballot, but don’t let it lose in your heart. We cannot give up on believing that things could get better again, and that there is a future worth getting up in the morning for. And even if you cannot find that hope or joy yet, I will support you and hold you until you can.
There will be time for social movements. There will be time for political action to defend our rights and there will be difficult things in our future. But there will still be joy. We must make sure that there will still be joy.
