It’s hard to describe how I felt during “election week.” Typically, I am someone who stays abreast of the news. Whether it be through my weekly Times emails or social media and news outlets, I also make sure I have a pulse on what’s going on in society so that I can ensure my students stay aware and that we are constantly being responsive to our ever changing world.
But during election week I couldn’t look at anything.
I avoided all headlines, limited my social media, and even had to silence a few group chats. From the beginning it looked like the election was going to go the way I hoped, but until it was officially called I couldn’t bear to listen to the back and forth. When friends would text me promising updates I would promptly reply back, “It’s not over ‘til it’s over.” When I would see people celebrating another partial-count increase for Biden I would say, “It’s not over ‘til it’s over.” When, on Friday night, projections for Biden looked better than they had all week, in my head I still said, “It’s not over ‘till it’s over.” I soon realized I was actually holding my breath. I was preventing myself from relaxing, from experiencing, from participating in my usual routine because I was so afraid of the rug being pulled from under my feet once again.
And when I think about the amount of distress I experienced the day after the election four years ago, this self-preservation I employed makes a lot of sense. When I went to work that day in 2016, I had never heard New York City be so quiet. Walking to the bus that morning was the most somber experience I had had since moving here. Since I am on the bus early, typically there isn’t a lot of noise because the travelers are still waking themselves, but there is usually a natural hustle and bustle that goes along with the morning commute. The silence on the bus that day was deafening. I think the few of us that had roused ourselves that morning were still trying to process the news we had just learned only hours ( for some it may have been minutes) before. And after wallowing in my own sadness, I had to prepare myself to teach. I still feel the shock and pain of that day. So much so that breathing during this past election week felt impossible. I know our country is not in a great place, but like a child who wants to hold on to the belief of Santa just a little bit longer, this time I wanted to believe something good could happen, even when all the signs told me to give up hope.
On November 7th, 2020, I let out the longest, loudest, most joyous sound of relief.
I stood with two of my closest friends in my living room looking at CNN and listening to the hoots, hollers, and shouts of Harlem all around us. We opened the windows and shouted and yelled with them.
And then we danced. What was supposed to be an outdoor birthday celebration for a friend turned into a block party for most of Harlem. The joy in our hearts was at such a fever pitch it was uncontainable. You couldn’t see all the smiles through all of the masks we were wearing, but the happiness that was sparked was undeniable. My girls and I ended the night sitting around an outdoor fire pit, glowing from the day and enthusiastic about the days to come.
And that night I turned on the news and sat and watched it for the first time in months.
As a country, we still have a lot more work to do. The “time to heal” that President-Elect Biden spoke about during his speech last Saturday night is going to require growth and openness on both sides of the aisle. But sleep is coming a little easier these days because I feel like my trust is slowly being restored in the systems put in place to govern our society. While those who voted in 2016 largely did not change their minds this year, there was a significant increase in voter turnout overall. People who didn’t vote last year heeded the call and knew from experience that not showing up was too big of a risk to take. I can tell my students that they can influence change in their world by taking a stand and using their voice and actually believe it.
Healing is going to take a long time. Personally, I know there are people in my life and circle who voted for Trump and I am still working out how to begin to mend those wounds, not necessarily for the sake of going back to the ways things were (that will never happen) but more so I can be at peace knowing I don’t have ill will or negativity in my heart. But one thing that has already taken shape and will continue to grow and expand is the influence, voice, and presence of Black and Brown women. As Vice President-Elect Kamala Harris stated last week, she may “the first, but won’t be the last.” Black and Brown women turned the tide of this election and we will continue to work to turn the tide and change the hearts of this country. And when you look at our history and legacy, this really should come as no surprise.
Women of Color have always been about taking a stand to change hearts and minds. Now that we have one of our own leading in the White House, the possibilities truly seem endless.
Love this post. I remember that day in 2016...I've never heard such quiet hallways. "I can tell my students that they can influence change in their world by taking a stand and using their voice and actually believe it." - this is such a big deal.
You speak for a lot of us 🙏🏾🙏🏾😅