The first time Donald Trump won the presidency in 2016, I remember the first thing I heard was my kid brother walking into my parents’ room, his defeated voice letting them know: “He freaking won.”
A pandemic, a migrant detention crisis and two ultra-conservative Supreme Court appointees later, he ran again, and America anxiously awaited the results. It took days to count the ballots because more than two-thirds voted by mail.
When the results finally came in for Biden, my family and our neighbors sighed in relief. We sat six feet apart in the park, giddy at the idea of being rid of Trump for good. My little sister jokingly remarked: “Biden won and he’s basically already fixed America.”
Then January 6 happened, and it was clear we were, unfortunately, nowhere near done with Trump.
This week, we got his third run and his second win. While all logic would point to the nation swearing in an experienced politician with more decorum and intelligence than Trump could ever hope to have, I couldn’t forget the shock of 2016. On top of that, I know many people who feel outraged by the current administration’s strong military and financial support for Israel in its ongoing conflict with Palestinians, particularly in Gaza, where extreme suffering continues.
One of those frustrated with the status quo is 24-year-old art director Helen Hulsey. She said she struggled with her voting decision until the last minute.
“Our electoral system is so discouraging, but I think we still need to participate in broken systems and do what we can with what’s available to us,” she said. “I kept coming back to the logic that I had to vote like my vote matters. Choosing to participate at all in a broken system means I have to believe in whatever limited power it holds or at least be strategic about it. I felt an obligation to do everything in that tiny scope of power to try and keep [Trump] out of office.”
If the Democrats suffered from an alienated and demoralized voting base, many Trump supporters felt the opposite. Many far-right Republicans also spent Biden’s term outraged, convinced that Trump was robbed of the election and being constantly fed disinformation about “migrant crime” and inflation from the likes of Fox News and One America News Network. Even those not radicalized by far-right falsehoods were still motivated by Trump’s various promises of economic prosperity, from his proposed tariff changes to a lower income tax rate. Trump voters were motivated and showed up to the polls.
And now, here we are. Looking down the barrel of another Trump presidency. And this time, he has a detailed plan of action—Project 2025—to disempower the American people. I stayed up late into Wednesday morning, mostly writing an article but keeping an eye on the electoral map, feeling the same increasing dismay I felt in 2016.
I spent Wednesday not numb or depressed but angry. I was mad at so many people who chose Trump despite his horrific policy promises and for not voting for Harris because, at the very least, her win wouldn’t involve the gutting of our already meager abortion rights and the prospect of the mass deportation of millions.
I was angry with the people preaching that “we’ll survive like we did last time.” Last time, more than a million people died from a virus that Trump refused to seriously address. Last time, Trump paved the way for the Supreme Court to overturn Roe v. Wade (1973), and women are dying. Last time, Trump tore families apart at the border.
While I’ve calmed down a bit and unpacked my rage, I think anger is important—especially for Black women, the group who voted most consistently for Harris—to feel. It can motivate us to protest, to run for office, to resist. And yes. It’s tiring. I wish marginalized groups didn’t have to bear the brunt of America’s wrath every day. But we know that injustice is woven into the American fabric—our inception as a country was literally out of violence, and many of our greatest structures were built by enslaved Black people.
However, what we should also know is that anger indicates passion. While we may be tired and angry, we can use that energy to strengthen our communities. We can make our best effort to take care of those who most need it. Yes, a second Trump presidency ensures that many things will be at stake—people’s lives, health and safety.
But those things were at stake during Biden’s presidency, too: Roe was overturned in 2022 due to the Democrats’ failure to codify it into law and due to the right’s relentless attack on the right to abortion since 1973.
Since the October 7, 2024, attack on a music festival in Israel, the continued bloodshed, primarily in Gaza, has resulted in more than 45,000 killings, and the number is only increasing.
“I feel a new urgency to be more informed and stay plugged into what’s going on,” Hulsey said. “I also want to actually be active in political spaces. I feel so useless just spouting off on Instagram stories, and we’re up against so much that it’s not enough just to have an opinion. We have to follow it with action.”
We can’t save everyone; it’s physically and emotionally impossible. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t make a shift in the next four years away from individualism and toward community, toward supporting and listening to each other. Because we are capable of such disaster—namely electing a fascist felon to the highest office of the land—I believe that we are also capable of spending that energy on educating each other and integrating care into as many aspects of our lives as possible.
“I really believe the only way we get out of this is through solidarity of the people and accepting that politicians do not serve us. They serve billionaires and their own pockets,” Hulsey said. “Community and care for each other feels so important in our immediate communities right now. The love we have for each other is what’s going to get us through the impending horrors. I want to keep showing up for my women friends, my gay friends, my immigrant friends, my Palestinian friends and if anything, just feel it all together.”
