Last night, I cried myself to sleep.
I cried until my eyes were swollen and my tongue was dry. I wailed and punched my pillow until I closed my eyes and hoped that this was a nightmare that I would soon wake up from. I hoped that I would never wake up.
It was the third time I cried that evening. I had already prepared myself for the disappointing results of the local Puerto Rican elections, in which conservative leaders took back control of an already right-leaning government. I turned the channel to CNN, hoping to finally see a woman–my candidate, my champion, Secretary Hillary Clinton–become the 45th President of the United States.
Then Trump won Kentucky. âAll right,â I told myself, âthis was to be expected.â Then he won West Virginia. Then he was leading in Ohio. He had 27 electoral votes to Clintonâs three. I began to panic, and let a few fearful tears flow. Suddenly, Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton were neck-and-neck in one of the most devastating political events Iâve ever seen unfold on live television. I stayed up until after Hillary won the west coast states, but decided to pack it up and go to sleep when Trump reached 244 electoral votes. The New York Times declared he had a 95% chance of winning. I went to my room with the intention of going to sleep; I called my boyfriend–who took the lead on many Americans and moved to Canada on an exchange program in September–and cried until I fell asleep, terrified of the country I would be waking up to.
Hillary Clintonâs loss is deeply personal to me, and for plenty of women like me. As a woman, Iâm disappointed we were tragically close to having a female president; and as a person, Iâm disgusted by whom that almost-president lost to. Like most young girls, Iâve dreamt of seeing a female president in my lifetime, and I wanted Hillary Clinton to be that person. I truly believe in her message that we are stronger together and that she would be a fitting heir to President Obamaâs legacy, one which has fought for victims of domestic and sexual violence, for queer women, trans women, women of color, and women with disabilities. Today, I’m disgusted the electoral colleges chose Trump as President, and a Vice President who believes electroshock therapy can âcureâ homosexuality and that conversion therapy works, that women should be punished for miscarriages, and who believes both Roe v Wade and Planned Parenthood must be shot down.
As a Puerto Rican, Iâm disgusted to bear the burden of a citizenship that is now under the jurisdiction of a racist, xenophobic monster. I am disgusted by our colonial status in which decisions are made for us. I share the humiliating pain that the citizens of the USâs fifteen other island territories must feel. If Puerto Ricans had a right to vote in the general election, or if we were a state, we could have cast around one million votes for this election, eight electoral votes, and be entitled to six House seats. If we were independent, we wouldnât have to worry about being under the jurisdiction of a xenophobe in the first place. I feel betrayed by a country that voted against people like me.
As a Latina, Iâm terrified of Donald Trumpâs policies and thoughts towards the Hispanic community and the white supremacy he has awakened. Throughout my undergradute career, Iâve planned to move to the United States to pursue graduate studies in journalism. Now, that all seems uncertain. Simply put, the United States is now hostile territory for hispanic women, and it is much more hostile for women who arenât white-passing like myself. To top it off, the idea of being a journalist in the era of Trump, whose supporters call for lynching journalists and whose administration would put a gag on press freedom, shakes me to my core. All that Iâve been working towards for the past 22 years is gone: my dreams of being a political and investigative reporter, my dreams of a female president, vanished. I feel lost, hopeless and afraid.
Hillary Clinton was not a perfect candidate. She ran a weak campaign that focused too much on Donald Trumpâs sexist and racists quips, all of which cemented his supportersâ devotion. She ran a campaign that didnât do enough to attract voters who werenât already convinced to vote for her, and didnât do enough to own up to her introverted, calculated image. Both of these points made her an unattractive candidate for people who were infatuated with Bernie Sanders and his progressive ideas, and made her seem disingenuous when she–rightfully–adopted them into her campaign. Top it all off with an email scandal whose flames were ignited by the far-right and fanned into the left, and you have an enormous problem.
But Hillary Clinton ran against Donald Trump, a man whoâs made a living out of scamming people and stealing their money; a man who boasted about grabbing women âby the pussy,â made fun of the disabled, calls for banning muslims from entering the US, and calls for deporting all Mexican immigrants. Iâm not Mexican, and I have American citizenship by birth, but Spanish is my first language. Iâm white-passing, but as soon as I open my mouth, Iâm a spic. I know that when he refers to Mexicans, he is also talking about me. Meanwhile, Hillary served as an exemplary public servant for foster children, children with disabilities and, yes, women. She proposed universal health care reform as First Lady of the United States but was shot down. She served a term for Senator of New York and functioned as Secretary of State. She counts with the loyalty of average citizens, congressmen and women, as well as federal officials. Simply put, she knew what it would take to get the job done and continue Obamaâs legacy. However, decades of experience and a majority of the popular vote was not enough to make her President. We failed her and we failed this country.
My anger and devastation will hopefully pass in due time, but for the time being I am allowing myself space to mourn, discuss, reflect, and unite in camaraderie with fellow disgusted citizens–women and latinos alike. My heart goes out to the weeping WOC at Clintonâs rally last night, and the little girl who went to sleep last night with her Hillary Clinton action figure, unaware that she would wake up to a country much worse than the one that existed when she closed her eyes.
The image of the five-year-old girl was shared extensively on Twitter and other social media.
In her concession speech, Secretary Clinton addressed âlittle girlsâ everywhere when she told them to ânever doubt that [they] are valuable and powerful and deserving of every chance and opportunity in the world.â Iâm no longer a little girl, but her message reached out to me. Hillary Clinton is not the 45 President, and likely wonât be the 46th or 47th, but she is still my champion. I cry once again as I type this and think about the little girl Iâll hopefully have someday, and how Iâll fight for her to have a champion of her own.
A champion she deserves.