You Can’t Hate It Unless You Love It

Now that it has been a week, I can confirm one thing… this presidential election has been surreal. I’m not even talking in the sense that “my guy” lost. I’m talking about how I got to 1 AM on Election Night and realized that we had collectively settled on self-acceptance. There was no waiting a week to find out what Georgia and Pennsylvania thought. Even if Nevada and Arizona dragged its feet a few days more, there was nothing to contradict a clear winner. Nobody complained about voter fraud and a need for recounts. Where was talk of Russian interference and the need for hate groups to “stand back and stand by”? For a night that was filled with a different kind of distress, it was surreal to realize this was the most normal election this country has experienced since 2012. By the next afternoon, the concession speech was given. Everything happened as it had in 2012, and yet, for somebody who would love for politics to stop feeling like cataclysmic reality TV, it left me dazed to see it feel so normal. For all of the fear tactics and worry, we did what we always usually do. I am speechless.

For as numbing as this larger experience is, especially given that it always seemed plausible for those who lived through 2016, having to deal with the larger public’s response couldn’t help but elevate doomscrolling into an art form. Earlier in the day, I was talking to a friend from France who wondered if I believed that Kamala Harris stood a chance. In hindsight, I fell into the same naivety that I did in 2016 where I looked at the final weeks of the campaign and saw nobility versus humiliation and went with the moral answer. I told him that Harris made the most sense. I still believe she does. And yet, as I sat looking at the incoming votes throughout the late hours of a Tuesday night, I remembered the soul crushing reality that voters are much more complicated than voting strictly for competence or even processing a full party platform. They forget history, but only in the sense they voted for the man they’ve heard of for 40 years and not the one who was nominee for less than half a year. There’s a lot that I take umbrage with in how Democrats ran their campaign (the disrespect for the caucus being first), but I guess my naïve California brain wanted to support the local as I had since 2016. Three elections in a row, I voted for her. I loved the symbolism of promoting her slowly but surely to the office I felt she deserved.

Election Night was rough. For as much as I held the inevitable as a likely scenario, I held onto the hope that this time would be different. You could make excuses for why Hillary Clinton lost, but Harris had so much more going for her. I listened to her speeches and felt that optimism that I had for Barrack Obama in 2008. For as much as the meme culture (especially the “Brat” stuff) never resonated with me, I felt that appealing to Gen-Z voters in the way those Shepard Fairey “HOPE” pieces did. They were a symbol of a shifting force.  You want to believe there’s anything to inspire the generation after you to see a future that involves them in a meaningful role. Even as I suggested to my sister in 2022 that the midterm “blue wave” election was a fluke and that TikTok’s insistence of a youthquake, there was hope that I would be proven wrong. For as much as I knew history was cyclical, I needed something to go differently.

Instead I was numb because I saw this exact same thing play out in 2016. The only difference is that this played out more conveniently. There hasn’t been a major revolt against the totals. At least not from the major institutions that upheld this process for nearly 250 years. It’s the one I respect, believe in, and felt that was capable of being that “living, breathing document” that the founding fathers wrote about. We were supposed to evolve and change, welcoming diverse perspectives with the intent of bettering the potential of this nation. I get this is too nuanced for people who cry economics or fear around global affairs, but I needed to believe there was a collective empathy that outshined a message of, “If you lose, you can desecrate our nation’s capital, traumatize a cop, and send poll workers death threats.” To me, the greater loss is knowing that people misunderstand what The United States is as a greater concept. I’d argue it’s not even just the voters but the parties who didn’t think to put up a fight for their own ethics over easy control.

Like most people, I spent the election wandering around a dual screen experience of watching the news and talking to friends on Twitter. Whereas the TV seemed mild-mannered, social media felt like the local mall was burning down as everyone fled. I’m grateful to not have many right wing trolls interact with me on a regular basis, but it doesn’t mean I’m not aware of those who are. There is the man who spent the post-election victory taunting, “Your body, my choice” to women. There was the endless talk of people moving out of the country, which has always given me conflicted emotions – but then again I come from more of a safe haven than the red states that are outlawing rights. I don’t have the worry they must have after being fed the message that Project 2025. California, famously, has voted liberal in most modern presidential elections. News that it has more conservatives than most of the actual red states didn’t phase me until a few days later when somebody projected a map that showed every county outside of Los Angeles was turning conservative. I knew things were getting bad, but that shock has caused me to have some reconsideration of how I view this “liberal mecca” of a state. Who knows… maybe if the Gavin Newsom recall election happened next year instead of when it did that things would look a lot bleaker. So many hypotheticals worthy of contemplating this state’s future that I’ve taken for granted for at least 15 years. 

Outside of myself, Twitter was a unique hellscape that evening. Along with the endless outrage over the incoming news hour by hour, I found myself in conversation with people that I would consider online friends. They’re the people who I turned to when I was having dark thoughts and they encouraged me to get better. I genuinely think their karmic value is deserving of more freedoms than what they’re now promised. As someone in a blue state whose vote was drowned in a pile of easy Harris points, I felt hopeless because there’s nothing I could do. 

I watched them contemplate their future and noticed how I was seeing them at their nadir. There is something upsetting about logging on and being privy to a very public mental breakdown of a trans woman questioning whether she’d survive the next four years. Other places I saw talk of suicidal ideation and the hotline for The Trevor Project receiving a major increase of calls regarding this topic alone. 

Among people I talk to more regularly was a lesbian whose mental health has suffered most of 2024 and has led to relapsing behaviors around depression and anorexia. She talks about not feeling inspired to write for a whole host of reasons. Given that she lives in Texas, her discourse has made me more aware of how cruel the general public is. She even talked about queer individuals she knows receiving a noticeable backlash as their city council gets bombarded by people who are doing the kind of educational censoring you’ve heard about. For me, it’s people like her that make my heart hurt most because she’s been nothing but kind to me and I want to believe she deserves happiness. Seeing her have a bad go of things is not easy in part because I know there’s nothing I can directly do outside of let her not feel alone on a social media site populated by bots.

Elsewhere I had one of the most hyperbolic conversations of the night. Another friend reached out to me to discuss her fear regarding Project 2025. Along with concern over the Supreme Court being predominantly conservative, there was a lot of institutions about to be rejiggered in this country. This person spoke with a fearfulness that exists inside of me, but has always felt more level-headed. I suppose it’s a response to being an anxious person and needing to have some control. Having suffered a major panic attack on Independence Day (irony!), I knew this wasn’t a night to get my heart racing. I needed to pace myself. Still, reading her concern and this sense that women were about to become a second-class citizen drove home the reality that if everything goes according to plan, we would have most everyone I love be ostracized. Even the reality that the educational system would be at risk fills me with a unique dread because I know people still at too impressionable an age to not have a nuanced journey through the hypothetical indoctrination.

On some level I think she was concerned that I wasn’t more worried. The reality is that I’m someone who processes facts before making a statement. Even then, I spent election night doing a lot of stress eating. I would refresh windows and try to believe that states with “45% voting in” would slowly change color. I had that naivety that this was far from the end when actually it would all be over within two hours. As I read the accusatory language about how America voted for bigotry (and I do agree to an extent), I realized that I was in for days of this rhetoric. My friend would still suffer from anorexia. My other friend would still have to deal with Project 2025. While my trans friends have come forward and at least suggested they are still alive, I’m not happy with having to believe that most of the people I want most in this country are at risk of ostracization in favor of an America that I was not taught to love. 

Plain and simple, the world is too stressful right now. Something I’ve realized the longer that time moves on is how much I am not looking forward to. I watched Seth Meyers’ A Closer Look on the election and recognized how much I don’t want to hear that impersonation anymore. I watched so many YouTube creators discuss their exhaustion with the world. Some expressed the hope to keep fighting, but they all shared disappointment. It wasn’t like in 2016 where you could argue it’s disappointment of shock, but more that it’s disappointment of complacency. 

As I thought of the other issues facing this country over the past few months, I noticed these same creators talking about how the algorithm has ruined their drive to work. It’s easier to make A.I. channels for easy money than try for self-expression. Meanwhile Twitter’s head has been invited to join the next administration, and I can’t help but see it as a continuing push to manipulate and control the media. Following accusations of “Fake News” in 2015, I feel like journalism as an industry has suffered greatly. Knowing that even institutions as renowned as Washington Post weren’t allowed freedom of the press reflects my fear. As someone who grew up in high school wanting to be a journalist, nothing has been more depressing than watching one of the most essential careers be diminished. It’s not entirely a modern issue, but the “Fake News” push has definitely accelerated things.

That may be why I’m disappointed in the lack of progress that was made in that four year window between terms. The optimism of watching The January 6 Hearings and believing it would lead to change filled me with hope that this would correct history. On some level, I think the slow and now ineffective response for one man to take responsibility for his actions is the most upsetting thing. Remember how Alexander Hamilton having an affair meant he was never going to be president now? Or Gary Hart? What about Richard Nixon and Watergate? Hell, even Howard Dean looking silly on TV was enough to sink a career. Everything feels so empty and nonsensical now. The people in power had four years to reach a conclusion around how to prosecute him and they didn’t. How can we expect them to muzzle him now?

For most of the past five years, I have returned to one movie quote from The Last Black Man in San Francisco (2019) whenever I’m feeling down: “You can’t hate it unless you love it.” Maybe it’s why certain aspects of this election response bothers me. For as much as I agree that some things are hopeless, I want to believe that this is a country that will fix itself in time. Even as I recognize that California is at risk of losing its blue sheen, I’m still hopeful because I’ve spent so much of 2024 turning to community  in order to relieve a more personal anxiety. I’ve gone to WNBA games where I watched Layshia Clarendon play as the first openly non-binary player in league history. I received a rainbow-colored tote bag as a door prize. I’ve gone to A Strange Loop which declares itself a “Big, Black, and Queer-ass American Broadway Show” and captures the Millennial queer perspective better than any show I’ve seen. I even attended a Ben Platt concert where he talked to a cheering crowd about his fiancé. The opener Brandy Clarke sang the queer anthem “Follow Your Arrow” with crowd participation. At other points I’ve watched I Saw the TV Glow (2024), The People’s Joker (2024), and Dorian Electra: Live at The Fonda as moments for escapism. To me, these are things that give me hope and desire to stick around. This country may be at a turning point, but hopefully these people will be there to make it easier. 

By happenstance, I spent my Friday night seeing the American Idiot musical at the recently reopened Marc Taper Theater. Along with being an ALS production put on by Deaf West, it was a chance to be reminded of how my generation fought for their own freedoms 20 years prior. The fight didn’t end just because Obama was president. History is cyclical and while I’d love to think future elections move away from a two-party system, I recognize right now we’re stuck in that loop of being either/or. There is still something thrilling about hearing Green Day’s message resonate for modern audiences. I think of the crowds I was among, bonding over that record back in 2004. We sang together and believed that change was possible. Having a figure like Billie Joe Armstrong leading us made things easier because not only were we not alone, but it proved we were stronger in numbers.

Deep down, my biggest desire is for America to not feel so divided. I am not wanting to encourage mudslinging and division. For as much as it’s cathartic to call out trolls who are attacking your communities, I do wonder how you get from there to civility. When does revenge simply become futile ejaculation? I don’t have an answer. All I know is that in 2016 we went through a phase of candidates “owning” the other with these sassy comments that we believed at the time would put them in their place. Instead it became an endless optics war where the opponent was a bully because they couldn’t speak nicely. These words were hollow. They solved nothing. Twitter’s function devolved into being an echo chamber for quick validation. It’s only gotten worse since. 

The truth is that I’m still worried. I’m exhausted in part because a lot of my values have been questioned in the past decade. The optimism of Obama in 2008 has gone away and sometimes I’ve wondered if he would forever be our Token Black President. I want to believe everybody would catch up eventually, but I’m realizing that I’m losing most of my 30s to one man’s campaign to spread lies and division. I’m watching people I love give into easy schoolyard bullying – not so much in the sense of believing the rhetoric but more a need to yell into the void their frustration in a mawkish tone. I worry civility is slipping away, that patriotism is dead for the time being. It’s less about fighting for what’s good and more about who has the “sexiest” marketing. 

And it all bothers me because I want to believe my friends would have a better future. Not just them, but the families who are raising children in a world that is moving away from the idea of the next generation having it better than the last. I want to believe that we’ll all get to 2028 without my friends dying. I can’t imagine the loneliness of walking that road alone. For as much as I can look at documentaries like All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022) and realize that there’s always been a push back against oppression (which in itself is encouraging), and it has lead to change no matter how small. Most of all, surviving is our best revenge. We need documentation to not let the erasure take hold. I don’t know how we do it, but I’m hoping it won’t be too painful.

I force myself to be an optimist for a reason. It’s dark right now, but if personal struggles have suggested anything, it doesn’t last forever. The road is long and tough, I don’t know why. One day change will come. The previous administration didn’t last forever. My hope is that enough happens to keep him from achieving everything he ever wanted. All it takes is a little protest and recognition of what makes this country great. I’m not sure many see it now and I fear it will come with some serious setback, but I hope something will be there when all is said and done. You can’t hate it unless you love it, and I figure now more than ever we need that reminder in what the power of the people can achieve. Good luck out there.