I’m still numb, in a state of disbelief. I’ve cried at random times, and there is fear beating in my heart.
I don’t love America; I never have. Why? Because America didn’t love me. I knew it growing up a yellow girl in a very white world. I knew it as a queer, fat, tattooed, agnostic woman in her twenties who most emphatically did not fit into the norm. I knew it as an unmarried, child-free old lady in her thirties who preferred the company of her cats to that of another person. When we elected PBO in 2008, I cried because for the first time, I finally felt that maybe, just maybe, my country didn’t hate me.
This was a lie. This was my stupidity. I was only being tolerated, and now, I know. A sizable portion of my country hates me. And I go back to being an outsider.
How did we get here?
How is that man going to be our president? After the best goddamn president of my lifetime?
A man who preached love and hope, and called upon us to aspire to our better selves. How do go from him to…
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