Early in the morning on Nov. 9, I watched in shock, disgust and anger as Donald Trump was elected as our 45th president. My stomach twisted with rage and discomfort as he gave his acceptance speech and promised to be a president “for all Americans.” I went on social media and saw my friends; beautiful women, people of color, Muslims, children of immigrants and those who identify as LGBTQIA+ fearing for their lives. Many texted me and expressed their fear for being who they were. I was nothing but heartbroken and angry: heartbroken for our country, angry for me and so many of my friends and other marginalized groups who are now legitimately afraid of our president-elect.
Donald Trump may be the president-elect, but I will never call him my president. As far as I’m concerned, after Jan. 20, America is a presidentless nation until 2020. He does not represent me and so many others America–the land of the free, the home of the brave, where people come to start over and have a better life. He does not represent women. Minorities. People of color. Immigrants. Queer people. People with disabilities. And so many more. He only represents an America filled with hatred, anger, racism, bigotry, xenophobia and so many other things. That is not the America I knew or the one I grew up in–the America that elected its first black president a mere eight years ago and has come so far since then. For that reason, I will never call Trump my president. He does not have my best interests in mind or particularly care about or respect me or anyone except his white, male constituents–so why should I respect him? He spat in the face of the changing face of this nation, but that doesn’t mean we have to let him. As far as I’m concerned, Trump is the president of those who elected him–he can represent white, fearful of change America all he wants. Not me.
I fear for what America will become under Trump and Pence. We have come so far and changed so much as a nation, and I fear that after Trump takes office we will have taken eight steps forward only to take eighty steps back. I do not want to see the beautiful country I was once so proud to be from become a nation divided by the racism, bigotry and hate so many of my former neighbors and friends hold for me and so many others. As of yesterday, I went from being proud to be an American to being ashamed to be one. How am I supposed to explain to those who don’t live here how we elected a man with no governing experience, whose primary ideals rest in taking rights away from others? How am I to explain to my future children, to whom I will teach tolerance and respect, that a man who had none of those characteristics held the highest office in the world? How did we come to this America?
 I do not know what is to come over the span of the next four years, but you can bet I will do everything in my power to hold onto the rights for my friends and I, the ones that so many people fought and died for. I am afraid, I can admit that. But I’m also angry as hell that we let our country come to this, and I encourage everyone sharing this anger with me to continue to fight. Resist. Donate. Don’t let our beautiful America become one so divided by fear. Stand together. After all, some brave woman who almost broke the glass ceiling told us we’re all “stronger together.” For eight years, I have watched people refuse to accept Obama as their president. For the next four years, you will see me do the same to Trump. He does not represent me. He does not represent my ideals. He is not my president. He never will be.Â
Images: cover photo, 1, 2