America, have we given up on our morals for someone who doesn’t live by them?
Writing when drowning in grief feels reckless, like speaking in a daze: the message rarely lands right or offers anything constructive. I don’t have a well of encouragement for you right now, and forcing something genuine feels dishonest, both to you and to myself.
Yet maybe reaching out in the middle of this storm, feeling utterly weighed down and suffocated, is precisely when I should. Some days, life is more chaos than beauty, and today is undeniably one of those days.
What just happened? There’s no way to soften this or pretend it’s something it’s not. Let’s name it: this is a complete and utter catastrophe. We’re looking at a worst-case scenario, the very essence of despair, a moment where reality has crashed down so intensely that it feels surreal.
We’re watching, in real-time, an astonishing disregard for compassion, as people choose their most destructive instincts over unity and empathy. Hours ago, a hopeful vision for so many, especially for women, people of color, and marginalized communities, seemed just within reach, only to be erased by forces of deep-rooted prejudice and misogyny.
Last night was sleepless for most, and waking up brought a cruel return to a harsh truth: we no longer recognize this place as home. For years, we’ve clung to the hope that America could be better, that it wasn’t defined by the hatred that some so openly embrace. We thought if a new leader could bring hope, perhaps the collective soul of this nation might awaken to something brighter. She was prepared, capable, and carried her commitment to every citizen with pride. But the answer was a flat rejection, a choice rooted in contempt for her gender and her race.
It stings because many of us wanted to believe our communities and loved ones had begun to see the toxicity around them and would walk away from it. But instead, they’ve aligned themselves fully with a movement that thrives on fear and dehumanization. There’s no avoiding it now. This is the third time, and it’s painfully clear: this is no fluke; this darkness has always been there, waiting for validation.
We’ve often said, “This isn’t who we are.” But now, there’s no mistaking the reality. Celebrations erupt over a fractured democracy, as if a victory has been won, and it’s more disheartening than ever.
What we’re seeing now is a national tragedy, a ripping apart of countless relationships across this country, wounds that no statistic will ever capture. Policies will be cruel, human rights will suffer, and soon, America as we knew it will fade. But perhaps the most unbearable reality is that we no longer feel at home with those around us.
For those with children, trying to explain that a nation chose prejudice over progress is a bitter, nearly unbearable task. We’re here because of those who made that choice, and it feels impossible to imagine how we’ll move forward with any sense of peace or healing.
To those grieving, I see your resolve and the compassion you’ve carried through dark times. I know you’ll continue to stand for what’s right, even as it gets harder. Your strength is needed more than ever, but for now, just let yourself feel this loss fully.
History may say Kamala Harris lost, but it’s America that lost. We failed her, and in doing so, we failed everyone she championed. As we look ahead, we face the sobering truth that a more hopeful, inclusive America is slipping away, as we enter our 250th year under the weight of cruelty and apathy.
This nation may be broken beyond repair. And for me, it’s hard to imagine staying in a place that feels so unrecognizable. Today, I understand what truly lies in the hearts of those I once admired. As painful as it is, at least now I know. The people who celebrated this outcome are part of a group I once thought was separate. Today, I realize they’re one and the same.
And that’s what I’ll mourn most.
