Do you know that thing that happens where you’re holding it together until a kind voice asks you how you are doing? Or a friend asks what’s wrong? That’s me with my mom. For some reason, I can hold the lock on the gate to my pool of tears even as I tremble and then my mom says no more than a hello and I’m a mess. I straight up toss the key into the ocean and my tears race each other down my face.

Have Your Voice Heard: Become an Odyssey Creator

This is how election night went for me. I was anxious as I watched the states turn red on every newscaster’s map. I was hopeful that the numbers would change. I saw my voter’s ballot in my mind and prayed for the day I would get to tell my children I helped elect the first woman to our country’s highest office. I was ready to stand with the nation against sexism, misogyny, racism, xenophobia, ignorance, hate. I was not ready for the alternative.

Up until the very moment it became clear that my chosen candidate was not going to prevail, I hoped for the best. But then it was real, the electoral college votes told us our outcome. The group chat got quiet. My heart got quiet.

My phone rang and my mom was on the other end. I don’t remember what we said. Just hearing her voice pulled my heart across two states, from the bottom of California to the top of Washington. And then, I cried for my country.

I cried first, selfishly for my own, personal, let-down. For the memory I would never make telling my children proudly about a moment in history. Like a bubble, this dream popped with a snap in my mind.

I cried then for girls and women everywhere. For young girls who came so close to gaining a new role model. For women who have ever been told not to be bossy, bold or opinionated. For women who fear their rights being taken away from them. For those who had been sexually assaulted and had to watch their country celebrate a man who bragged about miss treating women.

I cried for people who have found themselves loving with all their heart in whatever way is true to them, although the world may scold them for it. For the young, gay boys and girls who now have a vice president who advocates for conversion therapy. For the ones who want to marry and celebrate their love with friends and family and fear laws changing and churches closing their doors.

I cried for the people whose skin is not white. For families who fear being torn apart. For people afraid to return to their home country for fear of not being let back in the United States. For children of color who will be tormented because bullying and ignorance is the culture we have celebrated. For Mexicans who are not rapists. For Muslims who are not terrorists. For refugees who won’t be welcomed into our nation.

I was shocked at my own reaction.

I waited to wake up from the nightmare but that didn’t happen.

And after a night of despair, the sun rose in the morning just as Obama said it would. I realize now that my reaction came from being shocked to my core. This I realize, is part of the problem.

As a person of a certain amount of privilege and coming from a liberal city, I have been living in a bubble throughout this election season. I did not take Trump seriously. More importantly, I did not consider the validity of his supporters. Yes, some are outright sexist and racist. But not all.

Some voted simply out of hate for Hilary Clinton.

Some voted, believing he was most competent for the job.

Another large group are people with a certain fear. Some fear terrorism. Others fear loosing money. Some feel marginalized and forgotten. Some are poor, working people in rural areas who felt that someone gave them a voice.

All together, these groups added up.

It’s not all so crazy and illogical as we might think.

For my heart, I will continue to believe that good prevails over evil. That everyone is born kind. That we all want the best for ourselves and each other. And now more than ever, we must seek to understand each other.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, “It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.”