I know you feel terrible. I know you spent all night trying not to look at the New York Times’ historically unreliable needle, which this time turned out to be excruciatingly accurate. I know you smoked cigarette after cigarette, I know you drank melted ice cream like a sleeping potion, I know you cried so much you could drown in a sea of ​​your own making. I know you’re hugging your daughters and wondering: How can he inherit a world when this country hates him so much just for having a body? I know you feel like you’ve woken up in a familiar hell because we’ve all done that. Of course, it was a very bad feeling: We were hopeful again.

As election results continue to leave us behind, it has become abundantly clear that Kamala Harris’ win will not be inevitable. Donald Trump early Wednesday morning declared winnerfair (in an unfair system) and square. I know the feeling of having the sun completely blocked.

I don’t have the strength to do all this impartial journalist nonsense – in fact, I never have – but it’s too bleak to even pretend that this is anything other than a worst-case scenario. I’m so afraid of performing. I was afraid in 2016 too, but eight years ago we didn’t know what to expect. Now, the fear of what we already know and the fear of what we cannot even imagine.

The choices in this election were ultimately between two bad options: One, an administration ready to support ongoing genocide, the other cheerful about its denial of abortion rights, restricting transgender freedom, terrorism against immigrants, and, of course, its support. precisely from this genocide. There was never going to be a real victory in the results of this election; it was simply a choice between the irrevocably broken and the devastating, skull-shattering, irreparably broken.

But the skull-crushing, irreparably fractured option still feels worse. There is no subtlety in what the Electoral College results tell us: This is a country where half the population is content to hate women, gay people, brown and black people, anyone who comes to the United States from a different country. poorer country. A Republican presidential candidate hasn’t won the popular vote since George W. Bush in 2004, and while the final tally is still pending, it’s a real shame that Donald Trump has swayed the majority of the country in his third attempt at office. Could I find a more elegant language for this betrayal from the people who were supposed to be my neighbors? Could I be kinder to the majority percentage of Americans who are happy to align themselves with the primary stakeholders of the atrocity? No. This is a waste of my time and time is something I never had. Hillary Clinton called them a “basket of deplorables” in 2016, and Joe Biden called them “garbage” just days ago. Maybe this rhetoric will make you lose the elections, but it is still very soft language for now. More than 50 percent of the country wants to turn the republic into something increasingly inhumane, inhospitable, doomed to fascism and regression. In 2016 and 2020, journalists, academics, and voters attempted to “understand” the Trump voter to better make sense of their political preferences. I don’t care anymore. There’s nothing more to understand.

Despite this, Harris still blames herself for the outcome. HE lost voters In places like Dearborn, Michigan, which is predominantly Muslim, Biden won handily in 2020. His rhetoric about Palestine was also inhumane; His fervent support for Israel’s siege of the Palestinians was an insurmountable hurdle for many centre-left voters. take into account. Nothing could be more narrow-minded than Democrats sending Bill Clinton to give a speech days before the election. He said Israel was “forced” kill more 41,000 people last year. Oppression is often the real issue, and this is true even for a party that cannot accept its own oppression.

In the days leading up to the election, Octavia E. Butler’s 2000 article “A Few Rules for Predicting the Future” began to go semi-viral among left-wing voters, fueling extreme fear of whatever was bound to happen in the election. 5 November. “There is no single answer that will solve all our future problems,” Butler said. “There is no magic wand. Instead there are at least thousands of answers. You can be one of them if you choose to be.”

This choice could never save us, so I believe it will not be our end. This is perhaps a measure of my own illusion; I can’t get up every morning if I think everything is a wash. But governments, institutions, and gerrymandered districts are not heroes. Harris was not a savior; it was merely a placeholder for something—someone—better. During the first Trump administration, we were tasked with looking out for each other in any way we could. Under Harris, we might be tasked with the same mission, though perhaps to a lesser degree. Maybe my chest wouldn’t feel so heavy. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so angry. But it was always just us: sending money to UNRWA, driving a friend across state lines to get an abortion, keeping an eye on the trans teenager who lived in your building while she was wandering around late into the night to make sure she got home. night.

I still wanted Harris to win. I wanted it for my mother, who holds out hope for a brown and black president even though she doesn’t live here. I wanted a sign that it could get better. But even if this year’s results tell me I should give up, I can’t give up hope completely. I refuse to feel stupid because of my longing for more humanity. I cannot allow myself to sink into the depths of my despair; There are too many people we can save.

Hope doesn’t have to come wholesale. You can pick and take what you can; In fact, you should do it right now because it’s the only thing that keeps our hearts from atrophying. Even within the rubble, light shines through. Sarah McBride won the Congressional race, making her the first openly transgender member of Congress. Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, who pursued charges against Trump for trying to overturn the 2020 election, won his re-election bid. Mark “I’m a Black Nazi” Robinson lost his race for governor of North Carolina. As of this writing, all but two states with abortion amendments have voted to protect abortion rights. Monique Worrell of Florida, who was ousted as state attorney by Ron DeSantis, won back her seat. For the first time (yes, ever, gloomy), two Black women will serve in the Senate.

Like a pig searching for a truffle, like a dog trying to find a bone it doesn’t remember where it buried, I have to dig for hope. I’ll dig it until I die.

For now, there’s nothing to do but relax for a while while we wait for Opening Day. Not a very long time; There’s so much more work on the other side of tomorrow, the next day, the next week, and the year after that, until you die, and probably even after that, forever. . You may still be the answer to a future problem. But now is the time for mourning: mourning for who we will lose in the next four years, and mourning for the last remaining shreds of our democratic innocence. You will never find a shortage of policies, laws, or social customs that demand desperate and immediate improvement for yourself or others. Despair will soon surround you again as we all begin to realize what will be another four years of Trump’s brutal policies. Today is for suffering.

But tomorrow, tomorrow is for the community. I’ll be there, chest heaving, limbs heavy, eyes blurry, waiting for you You.