After hearing the election results, all I could do was cry.
On the morning of November 6, 2024, the news broke: Donald Trump would become the 47th President of the United States. It felt like everything inside me shattered. Gradually, the reality sank in, and I began to process the weight of everything we have endured: The overturning of Roe v. Wade, the heartbreaking news of countless deaths in the Palestinian War, and, most of all, the demolition of the hope for a new era that Kamala Harris might have ushered in if she had won.Â
Before college, I never got involved in politics. I wouldn’t even mention anything political—it was something I’d been taught to avoid out of fear of sparking conflict or upsetting others. However, my college journey has been long and reflective, teaching me that it’s okay to have a voice, even when others might try to silence it.
When former President Joe Biden dropped out of the race, I felt disappointed. But when Kamala Harris decided to run against Trump, a small spark of hope ignited—a hope for a future led by someone who understands firsthand what it means to be a woman of color, in a world dominated by men who are often willing to see you fail.
After countless endorsements from global stars, such as Beyoncé and female icons like Mariska Hargitay, I felt the possibility of a future that genuinely sparked hope for millions of girls and women. It was more than just celebrity support; it was a powerful, collective push toward a world where women could lead unapologetically, break barriers, and see themselves represented at the highest levels. This vision of progress was inspiring and uplifting, a glimpse of what could be a future where women are empowered to shape their own destinies and reclaim spaces long denied to them.
When the election results were announced, a heavy silence fell over me. I sat there, staring at the screen, unable to process what I was hearing. The words felt like a punch to the gut, and all the hope I had clung to seemed to shatter in an instant. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as a wave of emotions flooded through me—anger, frustration, and a deep, overwhelming sense of helplessness.
The weight of losing a bright future—not just for myself, but for future generations of women, including my sister and countless others—hit me all at once. It was a wave of emotions, the loss of a vision where possibilities felt limitless, now slipping away.
Fueled by a mix of rage and sadness, I wrote this piece to remind myself why I have to keep fighting. I’m fighting for the rights of women everywhere, not just for myself, but also for my mother—to see a future where anything is possible. And for my sister—to ensure she grows up in a world where she can be anything she wants and feel safe as a young woman.Â
I’ve been crying all morning, and it hasn’t stopped. Even now, as I write these words, tears continue to stream down my cheeks. Still, I have to carry on, holding onto a broken hope that things will eventually get better, because they have to.