I’m British. I say this as the introduction to what is going to be part article, part rant, part written emotional breakdown, not just because it’s become the way I introduce myself to individuals since coming here, (I’m dreading going back home where I actually have to make an effort to be interesting, and not just, y’know, say words), but because I want to make it clear from the offset that this is an outside view. A lot of what you’re about to read appeared on my Facebook account before anywhere else, and I got a few messages from that praising me for managing to be ‘eloquent’ and ‘not get carried away’, or even for not ‘being too emotional’; for that, I say thanks but no thanks. I’m able to maybe show more restraint when discussing this election than other people, because whilst it affects me, it affects me less. I get to go home next year and deal with my own terrifying political climate.
I’ve wanted to be here – studying in the states – since about the age of thirteen. I found an old email account recently, filled with messages sent out to the admissions departments of various universities, (mainly in California; I think I was convinced that I was going to find myself a Seth Cohen, or Ryan Atwood). Eventually, I grew up enough to realise that characters from the OC, which was essentially where I got the majority of my knowledge of America from, lead lifestyles almost exclusively available to the privileged elite of the country, and that international fees for American universities were incredibly high, and not something I could just pay through working in a hip, charmingly retro diner, where I’d serve food with a smile and wow patrons with my accent and dazzling manners. I cast aside the ambition. I tried hard at school and got into a good university, (as a side note: humanities students, I urge you to consider applying for the exchange year at my college back home, Northumbria University).
Still, when I was offered the opportunity of an exchange year in America, at a cost lower than it would ever again be for me, the fact that I would be arriving in the run-up to what was obviously going to be a very controversial, stirring, and evocative election didn’t deter me. I have American friends on social media and naively assumed that their progressive views were representative of progressive views within the American electorate. To be clear, though I understood, and feared the consequences that a Trump-Pence leadership team would have for women, and ethnic minorities, and the poor, and the differently abled, I expected the goodness that I assume to exist, even if very deep down, in almost every person, would prevent this from happening. The idea of Donald Trump actually becoming POTUS seemed a far-fetched joke, even as the election progressed. My anxiety conjures up worst case scenarios all the time, but even my mind didn’t genuinely think that America would elect him.
Even on election night, with the possibility of such a clearly unprepared individual assuming such an important world role, looming closer and closer, I genuinely did not believe that this would happen. I turned to my flatmate when we started to watch the results pool in, and asked her with only slight worry, “But what will people do if he wins?”
And then he did.
And it doesn’t make sense to me, because Trump winning is not in line with the America that I have come to know, and at least partially, (when excluding the lack of free healthcare: God bless the British National Health Service), love. I have met republican, democrat, and third party voters alike, and all have been friendly, welcoming, and pleasant to me. Of all those I have met, and spoken to about politics, only one was voting Trump. For the rest, he was the worst possible outcome for a country that they passionately love. I have friends who for the first time feel genuinely ashamed to be American, because of the results of the election.
When I started to write this, I wasn’t quite sure what was going to spew out of me. With Brexit, (ah Brexit, the first subject I’m asked about whenever people hear my accent), I wrote about how angry I was; google search data compiled after the referendum proved that people hadn’t sufficiently educated themselves before voting, and only after voting had taken the time to research what the European Union provided them with. I was furious that people would allow themselves to be so ignorant on such an important decision.
But this isn’t anger, it’s sadness. Because Trump’s campaign was marred with controversy after controversy proving the kind of man he is; his running mate consistently and vocally advocated for the regression of women’s rights, and a return to coat hangers. This was not ignorance. To vote for Trump at this point, you were engaging in bigotry. You may not even necessarily be a bigot – not everybody who voted for him is racist, not everybody who voted for him is sexist, not everybody who voted for him is against the right to religious freedom, but by ignoring all of this, and by saying ‘yes, but –’, you are letting the world know that for you, being racist, being sexist, and being all of the other ‘ists’, is less significant than being an alright businessman, a non-politician, someone who ‘says it like it is’, or any of the other reasons given for voting for Trump. You were saying to anyone who isn’t a straight, white, able-bodied, rich man, ‘your rights are not important to me’. And I know, that a lot of those who voted for Trump were disenfranchised people, people who feel they are being ignored, or silenced by other politicians, but the response to feeling silenced should not be to advocate for a man who is going to instead silence other people, as well as, probably continuing to ignore your own issues. For a lot of people, a vote for Trump has meant screwing over even their own social group.
To my American friends in mourning over this election, knowing that America is not going to be ‘great again’ without the end to systematic police brutality against POC, without LGBT rights, without gender equality, without the right to safely practice whatever religion you choose to follow, and without all having an equal opportunity to live a life free from prejudice, discrimination, and terror? I am mourning with you, and I am sorry.
