First, a proclamation: I voted for Kamala Harris in the 2024 US election. Second, a geological fact: I am from Seattle, Washington. Washington is the only state that got bluer in the 2024 election. My mom and dad are there, living in this blue bubble, running their business, walking the dog. Instead of the shock and horror that characterized Trump’s first election, they have grown weary.
To be fair, my mom started with anger, planning to perform a silent protest where she would write on pieces of paper: “This store hates women”. She intended to put them inside coat pockets at Anthropologie because the parent company URBN donated to Trump’s campaign. But the rage didn’t last long, nor did the plan get executed. The weariness took over, and my mom and dad have kept going; running the business and walking the dog, going about life at the pace they want to live it. And they can do this because we live in a bluer-than-blue state, within a blue bubble, and for my family, this is the illusion of protection. And for me, this is the illusion of their—and my own— safety.
The day Trump won, I still performed the functions of life. I made the trek to college from my accommodation in Summertown and once arriving on college grounds people gave amicable hugs, asked if I was ok, and said “sorry.” I moved through the day with a foggy sense of recollection. I lost my fork, a hairband, and misplaced my computer. I developed pink eye in both eyes. I was disoriented and experienced many variations of sadness, but I found odd comfort in the “sorrys”; I was saying the same thing.
The first time that Trump won, my school held an assembly to watch Hillary Clinton’s concession speech; “This loss hurts. But please, never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it. It is. It is worth it.” A Trump Countdown appeared on my drive to school; 1,460 days left. People mourned, yes, but the mourning dissolved into normalcy and jokes about Trump became common in school and when talking to your neighbours. In my circles, it felt that Trump was an inconvenience, a terrible, horrid one to be sure, but what could one do? And eight years later that feeling held true; Trump was an inconvenience, a terrible and horrible one, a case for many sorrys.
When you spill milk, what do you say to the person whose milk you spilt? You say sorry. You say sorry because your action was an inconvenience to them. They have to take time out of their day to show you where the paper towels are to clean the floor, and they have to get new milk. You feel bad that you have caused them these inconveniences.
When Trump won the 2024 election and people said sorry it had similar principles; they felt bad because they knew it would cause many inconveniences. One of the key traits of inconvenience is that there is distance, that it isn’t completely your burden, and so one says sorry to signal comradery but not claim the issue.
I cling to these facts: The governor of Washington is a Democrat.
And to this fact: The former Governor of Washington instituted some of the ambitious climate laws in the country because he knew that Washington could look like California with over 100,000 people displaced due to fires in the Palisades, Eaton, and Hurst.
And to this fact: If, for some godforsaken reason, I get pregnant at the end of Trinity Term, there is an open abortion clinic on East Madison Street. I can walk fifteen minutes from my house to the light rail, ride to University Street Station, walk five minutes and be greeted by people who will care for me and support my decision.
And to this fact–which is not just true for Washington, but any state: that my parents are white, middle class, and citizens of the United States.
And that I am white, middle class, cis-gendered, and a citizen of the United States.
When Trump won, I called my friends from red states and said sorry. I called my friends who are trans, who are undocumented, and said sorry, because I know they don’t have the same facts to cling to. But even with facts to cling to, this does not exempt me from claiming the issue, red state or blue state, this is still a country governed by Trump. The illusion of protection is only as salient as those who fight to make those same protections for every person, in every state. And the illusion of protection spans, across oceans, across country lines, because an America governed by Trump is also a world braced for unruly potential.
Let us not forget that these facts are also true:
Trump plans to prioritize US production of oil and gas.
It was the work of Trump that overturned Roe v. Wade.
Trump plans to launch the largest mass deportation of migrants in U.S. recorded history and end birthright citizenship: “We’re going to end that because it’s ridiculous.”
January 20th 2025, Trump will go into office a second time. Hold your sorrys and turn them into rage; do something with this rage. No one can claim complicity, from a blue state or across the blue ocean. Be vigilant. Hold yourselves with gentleness, because rage and gentleness can go hand in hand. First, a proclamation: I voted for Kamala Harris in the 2024 US election. Second, a geological fact: Trump’s policies and political actions will impact every part of the globe.
“…But please, never stop believing that fighting for what’s right is worth it. It is. It is worth it”
