I really wish it was a dream though. And that I woke up to better news the morning after Election Day than what actually happened.

But that’s not the case.

Instead, I’ve spent the past few days since Election Day disappointed in the reality of what’s been done and anxious at the thought of what is yet to come.

5 Stages of Grief

I’ve definitely gone through the five stages of grief over this election… Hell, I might still actually be going through it.

If you don’t already know, the five stages are as follows:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Denial

Where do I even start? Maybe it’s the fact that I went to bed early after peeking at the score on Tuesday night thinking There could still be a chance that when I wake up tomorrow, Kamala Harris will have won the election. 

Truthfully though, the denial stage started when I woke up on Wednesday morning. I rolled out of bed and opened my phone to the sobering news and went immediately numb for the next few hours. They still haven’t finished counting all the votes. 

Shortly after that… Oh fuck. This is actually happening.

I surely had a moment of denial in those early moments that morning. But the denial soon faded into a whole lot of fear and anger.

Anger

One of the first people I texted that morning was my little, Nico, a young, trans boy I mentored this year, to tell him to stay aware and keep himself safe. And I hated that I even had to do that. I was angry at the fact that I had to text a child out of worry and fear for his life. And that there was nothing I could really do or say to assure him it would be okay.

On a grander scale, there is an urgency among many queer people to get legal documents in place, move to a safer blue state, or even go as far as making plans to move out of the country seeking asylum in anticipation of what is to come. Plans to get married are being accelerated among the community due to fears of losing that right come January. It is unfair that many people now feel the need to come out, or get married, or adjust their lives according to someone else’s timeline instead of doing it of their own volition. I’m sick at the thought of it.

The anger and fear I’ve felt regarding how this presidency would affect women, marginalized communities, immigrants, and my fellow LGBTQ+ community has been immense this week.

I’m pissed we need to watch our backs even more than we already had to. That it feels like we keep getting stepped on while we’re already down.

It seems that the majority of voters really do not give a shit about anyone but themselves or those who look like them.

And that fucking sucks.

Bargaining

This is one of the stages I kept falling back into since the election. My mind seemed to be desperately grasping for any possible solution to make sense of it all. Every now and then I still find myself running through “what if” and “if only” scenarios—what if we had done this differently, or if only that had gone in our favor. I’ve even heard of various conspiracy theories about it all.

But in the end, all the mental back-and-forth only leaves me more drained and frustrated.

It seems as if I’m spinning in circles without getting anywhere. I’m at the point now where I don’t want to have any hope. I just want to get my shit sorted and brace myself to prepare for the worst.

Depression

I’ll tell you right now that I did not do very much the first couple of days after Election Day.

I operated at the bare minimum and only did what I had to. I slept a lot. Ate a little when I remembered. Probably didn’t have as much water as I should have. Rotted on my couch or doom scrolled in bed until I couldn’t handle the dread any longer. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I had no energy to talk to anyone, but felt obligated to check on everyone at the same time.

It still feels heavy. But lately I’ve been trying to force myself back into a groove. I’m making an effort to do things with people I love, as well as doing things I love for myself.

Acceptance

I live in a small, rural town in a red state. As a person of color, I have been very aware of how much I stand out among the people in my community. And adding on the fact that I am also a queer, trans dude on top of already being brown in a majority white population has not helped ease my worries when it comes to concerns about my safety around here. While I’ve socially transitioned, I’ve only just begun my medical transition with HRT, and I still have a long way to go.

I know realistically I can’t afford to move any time soon. I just bought a house and there is just too much going on right now for me to even be thinking about moving. I’ve accepted that this is just what I have to deal with right now, and that I will just have to take extra precautions for my safety until then.

Fight or Flight?

I was talking to one of my close friends this week about everything and she said something that really made me think:

Maybe we’re just supposed to be in a red state right now? Maybe we need to be more involved and fight for shit for all the queer kids who still have to live here y’know?

Maybe she’s right.

As scary as things feel right now, I have been able to rest in the fact that I am surrounded by a loving community of allies and queer folx who have my back. These people are strong, courageous, empathetic and resilient. 

While I may not have a lot of hope left in me right now, I know many of them do. I know they are the type who will rally alongside me and hold me up to keep going. And I will be there to do the same when they need it.

So while a small part of me so badly wants to run, there is still a part of me who wants to stand my ground and fight. Maybe an extreme way of putting things, but someone I follow online put it this way: “Death before detransition.”

I’m not going to lie, I kinda have a fear of dying. But I sure as hell do not want to go back into the closet when I’ve fought so hard to get to where I am now so…

If I can’t beat the fear, guess I’ll just have to do it scared.

One day at a time.