It’s likely you might misunderstand the depth of our current feelings, perhaps dismissing them as mere political frustration. You might see this as simply the disappointment of a losing side, the predictable tears of a team defeated at the last moment. However, to frame it as such would be fundamentally wrong. This isn’t about the simple sting of electoral defeat. It transcends the usual contest of winning and losing. This is about a chasm, a divide between two fundamentally different ways of perceiving the world and our shared society.
Hillary Clinton articulated a vision of an inclusive America, a nation where characteristics like religion, skin color, sexual orientation, or birthplace are not seen as weaknesses or moral failings. Her campaign championed connection, interdependence, and the dismantling of barriers – a call to build bridges and shatter glass ceilings, to aspire to higher ideals.
In contrast, Donald Trump presented a vision of a selective America, one seemingly tailored for a predominantly white, heterosexual, and Christian demographic, a preference validated by the election results. His campaign, and indeed his persona, has never suggested otherwise. It was a campaign built on fear, exclusion, and isolation – and it is this vision of the world that his voters have endorsed.
By casting their votes, they aligned themselves with a figure known for building walls and boasting of disrespect towards women. They have, in effect, co-signed his entire body of work, irrespective of their individual justifications:
Every derogatory statement Donald Trump has ever made about women, Muslims, or people of color has now been, in the eyes of his supporters, validated. Every aggressive, profanity-laden press conference, every incitement to violence against protestors, every ignorant outburst has been given a stamp of approval. Every piece of anti-LGBTQ legislation championed by Mike Pence has been implicitly supported.
A significant portion of our nation has essentially declared these stances as acceptable, even noble, and definitively American.
This is the core of the disconnect, the very source of our profound grief today. It’s not merely a political setback we are lamenting; it’s a perceived defeat for fundamental human values.
Our anger isn’t rooted in the loss of a candidate. This Is Why We are angry: because our candidate’s loss signifies a future where this country will likely become less safe, less compassionate, and less accessible for a substantial portion of its own population. This is not hyperbole; it is a stark reality.
Those who have historically felt vulnerable now face heightened insecurity. Voices that have struggled to be heard risk being further silenced. Those who have felt marginalized are likely to be pushed even further to the edges of society. Those who feared being seen as inferior have now received confirmation in the cold, hard numbers of an election result.
These outcomes were, in essence, campaign promises made by Donald Trump, and a significant number of our fellow citizens have effectively declared that this is precisely what they desire.
This has never been a mere political disagreement. It’s not simply about favoring one candidate over another. This is why we are in despair: it transcends policy differences. It’s not a matter of Republican versus Democrat, nor is it reducible to debates about emails versus crude language, or questions of dishonesty versus indecency.
It boils down to overt racism and hostility aimed at minority groups. It’s about the weaponization of religion for divisive purposes. It’s about embracing crassness, vulgarity, and a blatant disregard for the dignity of women. It’s about the specter of a nation that is barricaded, militarized, and bullying. It’s about the normalization of an unapologetic and blatant ugliness in the public discourse.
And what deepens our grief is not solely that these elements have been ratified by our nation on a macro level. This is why we are truly heartbroken: it’s the realization that this climate of hatred, fear, racism, bigotry, and intolerance has been affirmed by our neighbors, our own families, our friends, those we work alongside, and those with whom we share places of worship. This intimate proximity of such sentiments is perhaps the most horrifying revelation of all. We are now acutely aware of how close this division runs.
It feels as though we are living in enemy territory within our own homes, a feeling that is inescapable. We wake up to an America that feels foreign, unrecognizable. We are mourning the loss of a nation we once cherished, but one that no longer reflects our values or aspirations. This may be the current state of America, but it is not the America we believe in, recognize, or desire to inhabit.
This is not a lament over a difference in political opinion; that would be a trivial matter in comparison to the depth of our sorrow. This is why we are in mourning: it’s about a fundamental and irreconcilable difference in how we value the worth and dignity of all people – not just those who mirror our own backgrounds, beliefs, or political affiliations.
Grief, by its very nature, dwells on what could have been, the future that has been stolen, the promise of a brighter tomorrow that now seems unattainable. This is the emotional landscape we navigate today. As a nation, we had a profound opportunity to celebrate the richness of our diversity, to prioritize substantive ideas over empty rhetoric, to ensure that every individual felt a sense of belonging, to embody the beacon of goodness and decency we aspire to be – and collectively, we declined.
Scripture speaks of weeping enduring for a night, with joy arriving in the morning. But right now, that dawn feels very, very far away.
And this is why we grieve.
