I remember exuberance.
I remember community.
I remember hope.
That night I was with a group of Bernie Sanders supporters in a bar in Indianapolis watching the results of the Indiana primary. We filled that bar. We were young and old; we were men and women of all races and religions. We had all been working for that moment. We called voters, canvassed the city, and even cobbled together a campaign headquarters in an old house in one of the city's cultural districts.
We became united through a movement and then became the movement. And we won. Exuberance. Community. Hope.
Last night was different.
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I remember anxiety.
I remember solemnity.
I remember fear.
Donald Trump doesn't scare me. I believe he could be a half-decent manager of the United States. What scares me is that so many people saw the bigotry and alienation demonstrated by the President-elect and despite these things decided they were content with the idea of him representing themselves and their country.
Trump does not oppose people's beliefs; he opposes who they are. He hates that which one cannot change about themselves.
It was a hard world to wake up to this morning. Donald Trump, the human, was not the cause for the teardrops dampening my pillow this morning, it was knowing that so many found themselves content with having him be a symbol of their community and country.
This isn't about Trump, or Bernie, or Hillary. This is about ideas.
I'll leave you with this tweet from a high school classmate of mine.
I'm upset that he won, but what pisses me off the most and shakes me to my core is that his ideas won.— Emily Plunkett (@elloplunkett) November 9, 2016
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