Where Do We Go? A Post-Election Reflection

I have arrived at the final stage of grief after the 2024 Presidential Election- acceptance. It was not an easy path there. Let me tell you how I made it. 

I gathered with friends, acquaintances, and women I had never met before to watch ABC’s live coverage of the 2024 Presidential Election. On the zebra-print carpet of my friend’s apartment floor, eating pizza, wings, and cookies, I watched as data from the states rolled in. Simultaneously, I was anxiously refreshing AP online, watching as they would color in the map with either red or blue. Meanwhile, I was connecting with my friends at colleges all over the country – University of Michigan, Tufts, Cornell, Auburn, etc.. I was posting to my spam Instagram story in aguish, typing furiously in all caps, hoping that my loyal 50 viewers would be able to empathize with my roller coaster of emotions. More states were called – red, red, red. At this point, the entire room was anxious and trying to not actively feel it, so we played games, sang karaoke, and prayed. The night ended at 12:30am with a somber ride back to the dorm, and my constant refreshing of AP. I went to sleep that night with a looming fear that my highly anticipated result might not come true. And I was correct.

“He reminded me that I will continue to exist in spite of the factors around me.”

I was deep in sleep, and was woken up by my roommate on the phone with her mom, saying: “You saw that Trump won?” I grabbed my phone, went immediately to Google, sat up, and stared. I went to my texts, to Instagram, to Tiktok, and back to Google. 

“Oh, my God,” I put my head in my hands.

“Oh. My. God,” I cried. I actually sobbed, for what felt like the entire day. 

I sobbed because I am a Black woman, who has been told no –  you’re not good enough before. I sobbed because 92% of Black women were united on a crucial vote, but collectively we were let down by the rest of the country. I sobbed because my grandfather is 83 years old and has not yet witnessed a Black female President. I sobbed because I am a journalism student at an HBCU (Historically Black College/University) and I feel like the newly elected administration attacks, discounts, and will not consider these many identities I hold when they take office. I sobbed because deep down, I knew it was coming. I knew America would reveal itself for what it is: despite the qualifications a Black woman rendered, despite the unity she could have brought to this country, she could never truly win. 

I could barely get up to go to class; I didn’t have any time to process my feelings. All I knew was that I had somewhere to be. So I went and attempted to swallow my feelings and my tears for the remainder of the day. At the dining hall, I ate lunch and called my dad. Three hours behind me in Pasadena, CA, he sat in his office in a Zoom meeting, taking the time to reassure me. He told me that this was not going to be the first time I saw injustice to this level as a Black woman, and that both me and my ancestors have endured worse and know how to combat this. He said that this was nothing but ammunition for my success – that I had to stay focused, driven, and graduate with honors from my HBCU, despite all of the limitations this new America would try to place on me. He reminded me that I will continue to exist in spite of the factors around me. That the same Nyla that woke up on Sunday, Monday, and the Tuesday before the election motivated, with a determination to succeed and prosper, with the inability to hear “no,” with an overwhelming need to achieve, was awake on Wednesday, and would be awake on Thursday to feel the same way. I felt an incredible sense of impending doom for this country. I could not shake the disappointment, shame, anger and disdain I held so deeply after hearing the results. One of the last things my dad said to me on that call was that the anger and rage I felt now at 19 would fuel me to be ready to fight at 23. 

What this election has proven to me more than ever before, is that we can never waver in our fight. This is not the end by any means, but rather, the beginning. This is where we focus on voting locally, strengthening our communities, and doing our parts to remain steadfast in advocating for justice and equality. We produce art, we love each other deeply and freely, we educate one another, and we become the best versions of ourselves. We don’t forget who we are or what we’re capable of. We close our eyes, imagine our bright futures, and take the steps to achieve them. We don’t ignore what’s happening around us, or completely tune out the news and stop consuming information because we don’t like what we hear. We stay vigilant, and aware, and open-minded, and understanding, and kind to each other and ourselves. We intentionally take care of our minds – practice yoga, meditate, find the proper balance between being involved in the chaos and finding necessary peace. We lean on a friend, and pick up a neighbor when they fall. 

We remember that we did all we could with what we had. We continue to do everything we can in spite of what we are given.

We exist, in spite of.