It would be crazy for me to ignore what has been happening in our country — there is no way to ignore the political state, especially in the wake of such diverse reactions.
When I woke up Wednesday morning, I, just like the majority of the Champlain College campus, couldn’t believe what had happened: America had elected Donald Trump to be our president.
Now let me be clear on one factor: I do not hate Donald Trump. In fact, I do not hate any person on this planet, nor do I believe that I have the ability to hate. Ever since I was a little girl, I refused to even use the word in my common vernacular, or towards another person, or even object. I do not despise this man, but that doesn’t mean I like him. I, like so many others, have been insulted time and time again by his vicious and malicious slanders. Do I believe he is presidential? No. Did I vote for him? Absolutely not. Though I cannot find it within me to hate him, just as I cannot find it within me do take to the streets screaming about it. Just as I don’t possess the propensity towards hate, I just as easily do not fall towards anger.
Of course, I am not like everyone else on my college campus, and I am certainly not like everyone else in this country. People all over our nation have been taking to the street in protest, picketing, making speeches and crying to the world about their fear and about their anger. I couldn’t help but see such an opposing reaction to mine, and in recognition of such diverse opinions in this world, I decided to attend an anti-Trump rally in Burlington, Vermont out of curiosity of the human emotion.
Initially, I was frightened to even come within fifty yards of a crowd with the potential to instill anger in the masses. I almost lost the courage to walk down into town. Though when I did push myself and when I did reach the protesters, I was struck by how quiet they were. They were all just standing in a semi-circle, looking at the silent horde of people with signs on the steps of City Hall, allowing hundreds of people to step up one by one and make a speech to the crowd. Every person in the group was respectful — they didn’t jump over another person in an attempt to speak, or cut people off when they spoke too long or made a comment that was too obscure. Everyone let everyone talk in a peaceful chorus of thoughtful voices.
Person after person, young and old, got up to say their piece. The first hour I was at the steps of City Hall, I couldn’t help but get swept up with the crowd in cheering for the positive messages that kept berating our ears.
A male student from Champlain College, one I had never met before, a face I have already forgotten, got up in front of the crowd with a megaphone, and said words I will surely never forget.
“I don’t feel hatred,” he said, “I feel hope. I feel hope because there are people like you in here today this world. I care about each and every one of you. I don’t care about your race. I don’t care about your religion. I don’t care about your gender. I don’t care about your sexual orientation. You are a human and you matter. People, hear me now: Do not let hatred consume you, and never lose hope.”
After the entire congregation of rally members cheered him off the steps, a young woman with wild red hair promptly took the megaphone. She cleared her throat and looked at the entire crowd for a long, silent minute. You could see the steel in her eyes as she said, “I woke up on Wednesday morning and I was scared. I did not think this, the worst, could happen. But it did, and I was afraid. Though today is different. Today I stand with you and I am no longer terrified because I see that I am not alone. We are not alone.”
Directly after the red-haired girl, an older woman with long gray hair hitting her hips and lines etching her lips began to sing to us all. In her deep timber, she kept repeating the same lyrics over and over until we all too were singing her song: “We’re going to change this world together, we’re going to change this world together.”
That was just it: the togetherness of the entire rally. I was so surprised how the strangers I was bumping shoulders with felt in this moment like a small family — a safe space to cry and to love and to express ourselves. When we cheered for one another and when we smiled at one another, we all couldn’t help but be struck with the fact that we were there for one another. We had become a community of hope without even knowing each other’s names. A community like America should be.
But then, of course, the rally started to get rowdy.
After the words of peace started to come words of unrest. One woman came to the stairs and called for everyone to start a strike against the government. Another said we should all go to Washington and riot on the lawns of the White House. A man told us all that we have to be “brave enough to be outraged, and brave enough to act on that rage.” When a woman started to get the crowd to chant loud enough for all of Burlington to hear, I left the rally.
On my walk back to campus, I started to notice things I hadn't earlier that day. I saw anti-Trump posters and new graffiti all over Burlington. I saw “Fuck Trump” and “Not my President” shirts adorned on the backs of the masses, and calls for riots. I saw the hatred I did not feel.
Half of me didn’t want to believe in such negativity. How could a community of people giving each other messages of hope and words of hate exist within five blocks of one another? How could such a division of reactions occur? Was my peaceful rally just a mirage in a world that was ready to rip at the seams?
In Donald Trump’s victory speech, he said, “To all Republicans and Democrats and independents across this nation, I say it is time for us to come together as one united people … we can work together and unify our great country.”
Donald Trump spoke of unity, and, whether we want to believe it or not, he actually had brought us together (even if it’s not how he initially intended to). In the wake of his victory, we have been gathering—we have been seeking out our friends, our loved ones, our neighbors, and even those we pass on the streets. We are gathering and we are talking in a way many of us probably haven’t done in a long time.
On Wednesday, I saw two people on my campus lock eyes across the cafeteria. They met near my table, and one of the girls said to the other, “I know we don’t hug, but do you think I could have one now?”
Everywhere around my campus people are hugging one another, comforting one another. Groups are forming in common areas like I have never seen before since arriving on campus at the beginning of the semester. Often people rush to class without even glancing at another soul. This week? People have been late to class because they forgot the time in the wake of their conversations.
Oddly enough, Donald Trump actually has brought us together. He has given us a reason to reach out to those around us, to hug our friends, and form communities. We’re already on an unexpected, winding path towards unity.
But let’s not unite through hate or distaste of a person. If we form a community for the soul reason to hate a man, how much better does that make us than the man himself? The people at the beginning of the rally I attended saw what I saw: the benefit of positivity. People like the man from Champlain College and the woman who sang understood that strength in a nation came from people standing with people because they wanted to support each other, not tear down a man. Let’s unite because we love each other and we want to see every human in this country happy. Wouldn’t we rather feel the elation of joy rather than the weight of anger? Wouldn’t we rather hug our friends than fight a man we have never even met? Wouldn’t we rather say we united our country by loving our neighbors instead of spilling tears?
America is a community, and within that community, there are smaller communities. Together we are strong, and together, we can make a change in this country. So know that you are not alone in this nation, and look at your communities for strength in positivity rather than strength in hatred. Recognize that we are united, and once you find your people, work towards the change you want to see. As the woman sang, “We’re going to change this world together.”
Remember: hate fuels hate—it’s a never-ending cycle of putting gasoline on a fire. Though, in the same vein, love fuels love. We cannot sink to the level of the hatred we are trying to avoid. We cannot riot and destroy this world. Now more than ever we need to recognize that this cause is uniting us, and with this unity, we can support one another by loving one another. And in a nation that has learned to love each and every one of its citizens, no person will allow anyone to harm their community members—their loved ones.
Unity is forming in our country, we just have to see it.
