Yesterday as I walked around my neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York I had the sobering thought that I was asking a country built on racism, misogyny, pain, and fear to vote for a woman who looked like me. A Black woman. I was asking white woman to elect a woman of color to a position that they had yet to hold. I was hit with a debilitating feeling of anxiety as the reality of this moment hit me. The light was about to tell me to walk, and I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I took a deep breath and let my body do what it knew how to do. Move forward.

I sit here writing these words and the outcome of today’s election is not what I hoped but it’s not surprising. Many people whose identity rests in their position as the majority or in their identity as an American do not recognize the world around them. They see a world that is changing and want it to go back to the way they hoped it would be. Young white men, disenfranchised with a world that they feel has left them behind. White women hoping that they will finally be seen as equal by the very men who never wanted them to be. Latino voters who have bought into the idea of there not being enough for everyone, voted for a man who built his platform on their degradation. Black people who are so desperate for a seat at the table, they would cut off their own legs to make sure there was room.

         As I’ve gotten older, I’ve struggled with identifying as an American. Don’t get me wrong I am grateful for every opportunity I’ve been afforded in this country. I am grateful for the sacrifices from my family to move here and allow me to be a US born citizen. But I also know this country despises me. They love my labor. They love my people’s contributions, but they despise me. It’s a strange feeling to claim a country as your home but know that your home does not claim you.  

         I was raised to not judge someone based on the color of their skin. I’ve lived most of my life in predominately white spaces. I know that our similarities are stronger than our differences. I know and love people from all walks of life. But I would be lying to you if I said I wasn’t scared of the white people around me. It’s clear to me that the trust I’ve placed in my fellow citizens is misguided. All the times I’ve wondered if the look of disgust on a white person’s face was meant for me. The looks that tell me I don’t belong here.

         But I do.

         I have just as much of a right to be here in this country, of my birth as every other person. Maybe even more so. My ancestors helped to turn nations into empires. Were forced to sacrifice everything to prove their humanity. I come from a long ,long, long, line of fighters. People whose names have been long forgotten in history, but who’s blood still runs in my veins. I am here because they saw injustice and chose to see a future without it. Their vision is yet to be realized, but their fight remains.

         To anyone feeling a sense of fear, sit in that fear. Because your counterparts sat in theirs. Sit with your worry. Invite anxiety to make a home in your heart, because it will be what drives you. That fear, that nervousness let it propel you into the future. You are worried about what America will look like for your children; you should be.  After the shock of tonight wears off, after you have wept and screamed, remember this feeling. You are not the first person to feel this way and you will not be the last. Keep the memory of your pain at your forefront. You are going to need it for the fight ahead. Because all we have left is our ability to fight. To keep going despite wanting to curl up into the fetal position.

In the coming days and months, it will be up to the people to determine what our future looks like. Our politicians have made us forgot that the power of the people, is greater than the people in power.  We will have to fight in the midterm elections. We will have to fight to support the rights of those who will have power stripped from them. Well-meaning white people now is not the time to run and hide in the suburbs or pat yourself on the back because your career is centered around helping others. You need to be willing to fight because if you think they will stop at the rights of the disenfranchised, you are about to get a crash course in the understanding that misery does not love company.

         I fight because someone generations ago decided that they would. I fight because I want future generations not to have to. I fight for those who would never fight for me. I fight because that is my birthright. This is my home. I have a right to be here, and no election or human can change that. I have a right to be here. Alive. In this body. In this skin. There is no one who can ever strip that away from me. I won’t allow it. I will continue to hold my head up high. I will continue to walk on this earth as though I have a right to be here, because I do. We all do.