Losing the Vote, Claiming the Future

This post is divided into two sections. This first part was initially written after spending five hours on Monday talking about the election and its impacts with my students, my peers, and the faculty of my department. It was an exhausting day, but one which saw people pushing to expand our understanding of how the world works – in part to dismantle it and build something better. It was also a day of learning from one another, building bridges (instead of walls). The second part was written Wednesday morning, after Tuesday’s walkout at George Washington University.

In the aftermath of the election, there are many autopsies of the campaigns and the polling numbers and the voter turnout. Clinton didn’t speak to the working classes enough. Trump tapped into a latent (or, more often, explicit) racism in Middle America. The rust belt felt ignored. Something about voting for change. Something about inching towards oblivion. Somebody said something about “a banana peel at the edge of the apocalypse.”

One thing that is incredibly clear is that the divisions between different parts of American society seem wider than ever (I say seem, because history). Looking at the electoral maps Tuesday night, it was obvious that there is a rural-urban divide, especially as commentators discussed the electoral minutia of specific counties in Wisconsin and Michigan. The urban-rural divide may be the most salient cleavage, but it carries with it class, race, and party implications – there’s no one metric with which to understand the nation disaster we find ourselves in. Divisions were also apparent in our news consumption and our social media use. Something about Facebook algorithms and feedback loops. Something about blocking racist uncles, but also something about my old racquetball friend once telling me I’d figure out conservatism when I got older.

The most apparent conclusion from the election results, however, is that a man who spouted hate the entire campaign garnered enough support to win the Electoral College and the presidency. No matter how much he backpedals his rhetoric of deporting over ten million immigrants and banning millions of Muslims, these are the promises on which he campaigned and won. Millions voted for him because of these statements and actions. Millions more voted for him for other reasons – distrust of Clinton, anxiety about ISIS, desire to repeal Obamacare, whatever – despite the racism and misogyny. Holding their nose or not, tens of millions of Americans voted in a candidate who has targeted almost every demographic from people of color to veterans to the disabled to women and beyond. It largely doesn’t matter how tightly you hold your nose. We all smell it. We see it. And we saw you vote for it.

A common refrain in the commentary has been that white working class rural voters felt disenfranchised. These voters reacted strongly and out of desperation after years of not being heard by Washington elites, most recently the Obama-Clinton Democrats. These same voters are also calling anti-fascist protesters “crybabies.” This disdain for the left’s proclivity to reject the neoliberal and far-right dismantling of everyday life is not new, of course. The last few years have seen continuous belittling tirades from conservatives and liberals alike against millennials for being “coddled.” But what is brattier than lashing out at the most vulnerable populations because elites wouldn’t listen to you? What is more coddled than white people claiming disenfranchisement in the first election after the Voting Rights Act has been eviscerated, by electing a candidate supported by the Klan?

Trump’s campaign stood for hate, and there’s no doubt about it. He made this country unsafe for millions. His rallies saw violence against protesters – violence that he not only enabled but encouraged. Forget the brown shirts and the black shirts; we’ve got the red hats, and they’re now draped in the legitimacy of the president’s office. Regardless of what policies come forth from his administration, the Trump administration will be one that is associated – rightfully – with tearing apart many of our communities. Fundamental to resisting his political project will be maintaining these communities and building solidarity to others – caring for one another in the face of violence, community in the face of division, love in the face of hate.

Amidst all of the election analysis fever, there have been numerous calls for breaking down barriers and reaching across the urban-rural divide. To understand those that voted for the next president. This is an important task that is part of the organizing work that lies ahead. As families gather for Thanksgiving and other winter holidays, conversations will be had. (see this thread on how to organize around the dinner table and these two readings on why not to reconcile with hate in the family) Let these conversations – to the extent possible – be conversations mobilizing those who have not been engaged and building coalitions across our existing social networks. And let them grow. At the same time as we reach outwards, though, we must spend time with our own. Liberal and conservative tut-tutting about safe spaces be damned, self-care and care for one another are a central part of struggling against ideologies that figuratively and literally beat you down. Reach across divides, but also check in with your people.

While many white American liberals are surprised by the election results and by the sheer tenacity of the president-elect’s brazen hate, many others are not. The country’s black, Latin American, indigenous, and immigrant populations have known this hate for decades, for centuries. And they have worked against it this entire time. Just in the last decade new movements have flourished demanding rights for these communities, and those fights are ongoing. The best response to Trump is to engage with these struggles, to help them come together, to welcome others, to build a radical coalition against hate. Here are some good notes on building the movement.

Many have already taken to the streets against the incoming regime. Many of these groups are diverse and show the power of community. A general strike has already been called for the day of the inauguration. At the heart of any general strike is a call for solidarity. Everyone – workers, students, whomever can afford to sacrifice a day of work – should respect and honor the strike and take part in whatever types of actions they can.

The Trump White House and the Republican Congress will try to reshape the country according to their ideals. They must be opposed every step of the way. Fortunately for all of the leftists and liberals, most centers of state and corporate power are in urban settings that went blue. The space between our homes, our workplaces, and their offices will be where the struggle is played out. In Washington, DC, where I work and where 90% of voters cast their ballot for Clinton, the inauguration itself will have to become a site of resistance. I aim to make my voice – and my presence – clear to these leaders. The future of this country is not one of hate or divisiveness. Those of us who participate in electoral politics may feel that we lost the vote. But we can’t lose sight of the future we want, the future we can imagine, the future we can call into being.

* *

Yesterday, I joined hundreds of undergraduates, graduate students, faculty, staff, and allies a walkout at George Washington University. Earlier in the day, several DC high school students had also walked out in protest of the election. In response to the finger-wagging about respecting electoral democracy, the walk out and march was a reminder – a loud reminder to Trump – that the electoral college is not a mandate to govern with hate. The popular vote went to Clinton, and many others did not vote at all because they disliked both candidates, and still many others did not vote because they could not. Among those in the streets everyday this week are many immigrants and youth who do not have the right to vote, but surely have a right in how they are governed.

Gathered in a crowded Kogan Plaza, I heard passionate pleas and brilliant speeches from GW students who are Muslim, who are immigrants, who are first-generation students, who are lesbians, who are trans*, who are Latina, who are black, who are queer, who have experienced sexual assault, who fear for their loved ones, who fear for themselves, who are undocumented, who are indigenous.

From there, a march hundreds strong took Pennsylvania Avenue, chanting “We! Reject! The President-Elect!” And I knew I was where I needed to be. In the face to white supremacy and misogyny, a diverse group of beautiful people who stand for a more just and equitable future.

After more speeches at the White House, students returned to campus and delivered a list of demands to the George Washington University administration regarding student needs for inclusion and access on campus. The list was as diverse as the crowd – calls for supporting Title IX, calls to ensure GW is a sanctuary for undocumented students regardless of DACA, calls to admit more Palestinian students. The lesson these student organizers are teaching the whole school is to speak against power both small and large, on campus and on Pennsylvania Avenue.

To reiterate, there is so much work to do. This has been apparent for a long time. Trump’s election can galvanize even more action than we’ve seen over the last few years. Actions will continue and continue, everyday. As one student said yesterday: we won’t be done marching for another four years. And, regardless of what these four years look like and how 2020 goes, I’d say we’ve got even more marching to do. And bridges to build. And barricades to erect. And policies to oppose. And people to protect. And futures to ensure.


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