According to Wikipedia, mourning is “the expression of an experience that is the consequence of an event in life involving loss, causing grief.”
Mirriam-Webster eloquently and appropriately calls mourning “the act of sorrowing.”
On Dictionary.com, strong matches for “grieving” include disturbed, oppressed, persecuted, wronged, afflicted, depressed, harmed, hurt, injured, pained, peeved, and saddened.
Most of these definitions function within the implied context of the loss of a loved one. However, any of these synonyms and definitions could sum up the internal turmoil that I, and many, many others have been experiencing since the presidential election results were called on Nov. 6.
People of color, members of the LGBTQIA+ community, immigrants, female-bodied people, and a number of other groups have been placed in additional, prominently vulnerable positions as a result of Donald Trump’s win. Millions are experiencing very real mourning in a society that is ill-equipped to understand or validate this need for grief.
This simple truth cannot be overstated: this feeling of loss is not simply for a candidate, but for the human rights of many who call America home.
The concept that anyone should be expected to continue on with “normal” life in the face of their rights, humanity, and dignity being stripped away, without adequate space to grieve and respond, seems absurd. Yet, to so many in positions of privilege, this election loss is nothing more than a simple loss. Thus, the very appropriate emotional and mental responses to this traumatic shift in the futures and realities of so many vulnerable Americans is being misunderstood by too many as some form of unwarranted dramatics.
The effort here then becomes not to attempt to enlighten those who do not understand the seriousness of this election or the deep, valid emotional responses it has inflicted, but to join hands with those who do or want to understand, and create space for that grief, however possible.
In line with this effort, below are some tactics for creating space for election grief, in both small and big ways.
Zoom in.
Life goes on. As difficult as it can be to accept day-to-day triviality in the face of such a macro experience of hurt and fear, ultimately, we all have to keep moving. In some ways, zooming into our daily lives, needs, struggles, and experiences, especially those we do have control over, can be valuable in times like these.
Connect with those who understand and validate you.
A phone call or a text to someone in your life who allows space for this grief, or is grieving as well, can make a world of difference in an overwhelming moment. As M. Scott Peck says, “There can be no peace, and ultimately no life, without community.”
Allow yourself to see the positives, when and if you are able.
If silver linings feel helpful, read on! If you’re not in a place to accept silver linings right now (which would be more than warranted), feel free to skip right over this bit.
Colorado voted to enshrine gay marriage in the Colorado Constitution, and seven out of 10 U.S. states with abortion measures on their ballots, including Colorado, voted in favor of protecting abortion rights.
Sarah McBride became the first transgender person elected to Congress. Though some disagree or take issue with her views on the Israel-Palestine conflict, the act of a transgender woman being sworn into office marks progress in specific areas.
A progressive prosecutor, Monique Worrell, previously ousted by Ron DeSantis, reclaimed her position.
In a historic result, two Black women, Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware and Angela Alsobrooks of Maryland, will be serving in the Senate at the same time.
In the ways that you can, separate from those who further exacerbate your hurt or grief right now, without guilt.
This election, and the political climate of the U.S. in general, especially since 2016, has spurred extensive conversation and debate surrounding how tolerance, civility and respect should be present between those of variant political affiliations.
My personal feelings on this are simple: if someone willingly voted for a candidate who intends to strip the rights of vulnerable parties, “mutual respect” has already been lost. Asking for such from those at risk is presumptuous and lacking in integral ethical understandings.
For this reason, disconnecting or taking a step back from those who voted against your rights, and/or are unable to hear or make room for your pain and grief right now, is more than fair. If disengaging for your own sake is necessary, take that space, and know that that boundary is a fair one to hold.
I recognize that for some people, this election has meant disengaging from (or being forced to remain engaged with) loved ones or people you previously thought were safe spaces, which can hold its own complications, can be its own experience of grief. If this is your situation, I see you.
Take faith in the organizations and people who are dedicated to fighting back.
The NAACP, the Human Rights Campaign, Planned Parenthood, Americans for Immigrant Justice, People for the American Way, The Midwest Access Coalition and the ACLU are just a few groups out of many who are dedicated to fighting back against threats to human rights that may be caused by a second Trump term.
Cry. Scream. Mourn. Throw pebbles into the water as hard as you can.
You don’t have to be “strong” yet. You don’t have to mobilize right away. You don’t have to pretend it’s all okay just because your teachers, boss, friends, family, or someone else in your life is going about the world like nothing has changed.
Scream into a pillow. Make furious art. Throw rocks into a creek, or off a cliff, with as much force as you can muster. Rip up some paper. Go to a rage cage. Do whatever you’re able, that doesn’t hurt yourself or others, to open space for those feelings of fear, fury and helplessness. Then remember that great emotion is often a catalyst for great change.
It won’t be like this forever. This feeling, this presidency, or this moment in time.
“You will not ‘get over’ the loss…You will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild.”
– Elisabeth Kubler-Ross