Today, I write to you not as Crinkle Cat, the author who usually whisks you away into worlds of comfort and understanding, but as a person grappling with the reality of the 2024 presidential election results. Donald Trump has secured another term, and the atmosphere, for many of us, feels heavy and uncertain.
This morning, I went into work and was greeted by my boss, a fervent Trump supporter. He was elated, using language that was not only triumphant but also laced with homophobia and misogyny. I stood there, stunned, feeling a chill run down my spine. It wasn’t just the words; it was the stark realization that this is the world we now live in, openly and unapologetically.
As I left work, the weight of the previous day’s events still heavy on my shoulders, I found myself cocooned in the familiar comfort of my car. The engine hummed to life, and I pulled out onto the busy street, merging into the river of commuters eager to get home. As I drove, I began to look at the drivers around me, their faces illuminated by the late afternoon sun.
There was a middle-aged woman in a worn-out sedan. I wondered about her story. Was she a single mother working two jobs to make ends meet? Had she fought for equal pay in her workplace, and would she now have to fight against a administration that doesn’t prioritize gender equality?
Next to me, a young man in a pickup truck. What struggles had he faced to get where he was? Would he lose access to healthcare under the new administration? Would his pre-existing conditions make him uninsurable if the Affordable Care Act was dismantled further?
Across the intersection, a black couple in an SUV, their laughter echoing through their open windows. Would they face increased discrimination under a administration that has emboldened white supremacists? Would their voting rights be further suppressed?
An elderly man in a compact car, his eyes filled with wisdom and worry. Would he lose his social security benefits? Would he be able to afford his medication if Medicare was cut?
I wondered about their lives, their stories, their struggles. And I wondered if they were Trump voters. If they were, did they fully realize the potential impact of their vote on their own lives and the lives of those they loved? Did they understand that the policies of the man they supported could very well make their already challenging lives even harder?
It’s easy to vilify those who voted differently, to paint them with broad strokes of ignorance or malice. But as I looked into the cars around me, I saw people just like me. People trying to navigate life, trying to do what they thought was best for themselves and their families. People who might not yet realize the full implications of their vote.
However, while I won’t spend time vilifying Trump supporters, I also recognize the importance of protecting my own emotional well-being and the safety of those I care about. We’ve all witnessed and experienced the dangerous rhetoric and policies of Trump’s administration. From his disastrous response to the COVID-19 pandemic, which left many Americans dead, to his dangerous comments about declaring Democrats as “the enemy within,” and his vocal expressions of desire to shoot journalists because he thinks they’re “fake news,” the line between political differences and threats to our democracy and safety has been crossed.
For my own mental health and the safety of my community, I plan to cut contact with those who actively support Trump. It’s not a decision made out of hatred, but out of self-preservation. It’s a recognition that while everyone deserves empathy and understanding, there are behaviors and beliefs that cannot be tolerated if they put others in harm’s way.
This doesn’t mean I won’t engage in dialogue or try to build bridges where possible. But it does mean that I will prioritize the well-being of myself and my community. It means that I will stand firm in my values and refuse to normalize or accept behavior that is harmful to others.
As a member of the LGBTQ+ community and someone deeply entrenched in the adult baby/diaper lover and babyfur communities, I couldn’t help but think of the most vulnerable among us. Those who already face ridicule and discrimination, those who rely on protections that are now at risk of being stripped away. My heart aches for them, for us.
I’m tired of reading headlines that forecast doom. I’m tired of the sinking feeling in my stomach, the fear that we’re regressing instead of progressing. But I also know that wallowing in these feelings won’t change the outcome. So, I ask, where do we go from here?
We live. We create. We choose.
We live our lives openly and proudly, refusing to let hate and fear dictate our existence. We create art, literature, and communities that reflect our values and provide safe spaces for those who need them. We choose how we’re going to feel, how we’re going to act, and how we’re going to fight for a better tomorrow.
Rest. Take care of yourself.
It’s okay to feel overwhelmed, to need a moment to breathe and regroup. Self-care isn’t selfish; it’s necessary. It’s the foundation from which we can stand tall and face the challenges ahead.
Take solace in what you’re able to control.
We might not be able to control the election outcome, but we can control how we treat each other, how we support each other, and how we fight for each other. We can control our resolve to never stop advocating for a more inclusive, more loving world.
This is a sobering moment, yes, but it’s also a call to action. It’s a reminder that our work is not done, that our voices are needed now more than ever. So, let’s not despair. Let’s stand together with love and determination.
Crinkle Cat