When Tim Kaine took the stage to open Hillary Clinton’s concession, I resisted the urge cry. I fought back the warm, frightful tears that threatened to escape my eyes like refugees from a war-torn country.
While I watched from my apartment as Hillary Clinton took the stage in New York, I resisted the temptation to applaud her. I rigidly held my arms at my sides, like a soldier standing at attention during the funeral of a fallen comrade.
In these moments, I felt a permanence. I recognized what this next presidency would symbolize for me and those like me who were inwardly trembling with astonishment, disappointment and fear.
We will spend the next four years resisting.
We will resist the glorification of sexual assault and the predators that perpetrate it.
We will resist the elitism that allows a wealthy businessman to exploit the services of small businesses without payment.
We will resist fear of those who think differently than we do, who worship differently than we do.
We will resist the message that being women makes us lesser beings.
We will resist double standards imposed by the powerful on the voiceless.
We will resist the belief those that do not fit the narrow scope of the label “able-bodied” should be without employment or opportunity.
We will resist the hate for those who love differently than we do.
We will resist.
Hillary Clinton was my champion, our champion.
Now, we shall champion the resistance.