Our President-elect
Dear Mom,
On the eve of Election Day I was restless, unable to sleep. In an effort to find peace I wrote you a letter. Filled with nervous energy, I asked for you to be there with me, to help me stay focused as I rallied UCF students on November 8th to vote for Hillary Clinton so that our nation could do what seemed near impossible: break the glass ceiling and elect the first woman President of the United States.
One week later, I am still processing our defeat. I cry not because we lost, but because of how he won. Donald Trump campaigned on an alt-right agenda, pushed against multiculturalism, used hateful rhetoric, and inspired fear in us all. As a female candidate, Clinton already had a deep disadvantage: Double standards were her worst enemy. While Trump was forgiven for his racist comments and predatory behavior, Clinton was critiqued for her every word and wardrobe choice. Email hacks and FBI investigations overshadowed Trump’s shallow policy positions and carried him to victory. We won the popular vote but lost the Electoral College, and it’s worth noting that national voter turnout was around 50%, which means that only 25% of Americans voters chose Trump to be our President-elect.
Many of these voters were white — including 53% of white women. Though I know Americans everywhere are struggling day-to-day, I can’t help but feel that Trump’s call to “Make America Great Again” is a sad reiteration of white flight — but instead of running away from their colored neighbors, white Americans instead pushed us away by running to the polls.
As a first generation American, I feel unwanted by a nation that you came to in search of a better life. I struggle to open my arms to Donald Trump as President, especially when the Republican Party made little effort to accept Barack Obama. The hypocrisy is palpable, especially when you watch Republican leaders embrace our new Commander in Chief, a figure who they avoided on the campaign trail.
Despite all of this, I want you to know that I’m going to be ok, that America is going to be ok, and that you shouldn’t be worried about me. There is power to find in our pain and though I do expect to see an elevation of violence — for there to be attacks against some of the issues that we care about deeply and a denial of critical world problems like climate change — I am ready to push back, lift up others, and hold our political leaders accountable. We didn’t break the glass ceiling, but the hammer is still in my hand.
In these moments, we have all a choice: Do we let callousness win, or compassion? Do we tune out or do we engage? Shut down or stand up?
I’m never shutting down. When the going gets tough, the tough get tougher and I find deep hope not only in my fellow millennials, and those who will come after us and champion change, but also in the words of this Mexican proverb: “They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.”
Yours always,
Anna
Anna V. Eskamani is an Orlando native, Iranian-American, and first generation Floridian. Her Mom, Nasrin V. Eskamani, passed away with cancer in 2004.
