The Election Through the Eyes of a Fourteen-Year-Old Muslim-American: From Optimism to Heartbreak to Resilience
7:25 PM: I’m so excited for tonight. Here’s to a great 4 years
8:00 PM: Looking very good as of right now. We just took the lead in Florida and North Carolina
8:48 PM: Florida has gotten very close. I’m so nervous
9:55 PM: This is awful. So bad. What is happening….
10:05 PM: I’m having a breakdown
11:09 PM: She just lost North Carolina. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING
11:35 PM: This could not be going worse. I have no idea how she is going to win.
12:04 AM: She’s not going to win. Maybe a 1% chance. I’ve lost all optimism.
12:29 AM: I’m lost
1:27 AM: Wow.
1:59 AM: I can’t even sleep anymore. I don’t know where we go from here.
2:54 AM: Is this real life? Did this actually happen?
5:29 AM: Heartbroken and scared…
These were the series of texts sent to a Hispanic friend from me--a fourteen-year-old Muslim-American--as the nightmare that was Tuesday night unfolded. I started Tuesday with an unexpected amount of excitement, fully embodying the “fired up, ready to go” attitude that defined President Obama’s campaigns. Tuesday was a day I had been looking forward to for a while; the presidential race had been going on for a painstakingly long time, and it was a very hostile and stressful one. The divisiveness of this election had formed deep gashes in more than a handful of friendships, and I became a target of exasperating Islamophobic stereotypes through its course. The incessant xenophobia, racism, misogyny, and narcissism from Mr. Trump was immensely upsetting to watch. As it continued and grew in its preposterousness, it became extremely concerning that the future of my great country could rest in the palms of this ill-tempered lunatic. Going to vote for a morally-sound, qualified, logical woman over such a divisive bully had, all of a sudden, become particularly significant.
I went to the polls twice on Tuesday, once with my brother and once with my father. Both times I watched as they bubbled in the circle that was labeled “HILLARY CLINTON” in bold letters. As they cast their ballots, I felt a rush of pride and giddiness sweep over me. I was ready for a promising four years--four years of progress and promise for all. This optimism carried into the evening as the first votes came in from around the nation. The polls in the nights prior had indicated an easy victory for Mrs. Clinton, so I expected for it to be over quickly.
As the night progressed and deficits appeared in key battleground states, this optimism quickly diminished. My body started to succumb to the thought of the aforementioned psychopath leading my great nation. My mind started to picture a reemergence of inequality, a reappearance of discrimination, a reversal of the great strides of progress the nation as a whole had made throughout its history. As these visions grew and the results kept pouring in, I found myself in the midst of an utter breakdown. My heart raced, my voice grew quiet, my smile flipped, and the emptiness within me grew.
I stayed up until 3:00 AM on Wednesday in pure disbelief, wondering how a person who denies climate change, who is provoked by a tweet, who brags of sexual assault, and who threatens to ban an entire religion--my religion--from entering a country that was founded on the basis of equality and inclusion for all could be president. I felt lost and hopeless.
I woke up the next morning and something felt different, but, for a moment, I couldn’t quite discern what it was. Then, suddenly, it hit me, and I was almost instantaneously heartbroken and scared. For the entirety of Wednesday, this is what I felt. Any thought of the results of the election sent shivers of fear and sadness down my spine. Any thought of how misrepresented the minorities of this nation would be almost brought me to tears. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t talk. I felt empty.
I spent all of Wednesday like this. And then, it hit me.
I realized that one person couldn’t destroy this great nation. I realized that one person couldn’t undo the incredible progress of this country. I realized that one person couldn’t get rid of the great people that constitute this nation. Not if we don’t let him. Over the course of these next four years, the fight will be strenuous. It will become very difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it will feel hopeless and fruitless at times. But if we bounce back with resiliency, if we fight for what is our’s, if we prioritize what is just, if we stand united, no one can deny us the greatness of this nation and the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Hey, remember: “Stronger Together.”
