Being abroad for this election cycle has been somewhat of a surreal experience, and the decisions that have followed holds so much social significance for the world over that it seems like the only thing to write about this week.
I watched the election results come in last Tuesday sitting in the conference room of a local hotel with my nine other students and my resident director. We started watching at 6:30 am, and I found part of the whole situation a little funny as the blonde haired BBC news lady said that we may be up into the “wee hours of the night” waiting for a final result. We enjoyed a free breakfast buffet complete with some extra soft idli, tomato chutney, sambar, Choco Flakes, coffee, and hard boiled eggs (these are just some of our favorite things at the hotel breakfast buffets we have encountered thus far).
The general vibe of the room was pretty tense, but we made small talk in between reports of closing polls reassuring one another of its predictability (“Oh, Trump was projected to win those states from the beginning, “XYZ county hasn’t been counted yet and they are definitely going for Clinton,” etc.). Despite these assurances, you could feel people cringe a little bit as the numbers next to Trump’s blazing red name went up, while Clinton’s blue had been unchanged for minutes at a time. I stayed and watched until 1 pm, and finally walked back to campus to gather my thoughts and do some work before the final results came in. Shortly after, I saw the New York Times headline that named Trump as the winner, and I took off on an hour trek to a bakery in a different neighborhood.
That afternoon was also especially funny because around me on my trek it seemed as if nothing had changed. Auto-rickshaws and buses barreled past me, cows grazed casually at the various intersections, and school children in plaid uniforms pedaled past me at a lightning speed yelling hello! at me. To me, something dangerous and violent and ugly and disappointing and unfortunately not too surprising did happen, and the distance between me and home made this event seem more unreal than I could have ever anticipated.
When I got home later that evening, my host mom asked me about the election, as major Indian news outlets were not yet reporting the results. I told her that Trump had won, and she seemed surprised. I told her I too shared some surprise, and we sat at the kitchen table for a few minutes, chatting about the bits of news we had each collected from this election. She told me people in India are afraid of him because of his outward support for Russia and Putin, and that people living in the U.S. on a visa are afraid they will not get to stay. She also said that what happened in this election is a similar problem that India faces in its state and national elections; there is a historically poor voter turnout (and while we did see some spikes in voter turnout from usually absent voting demographics) and the politicians running are invested in self promotion and mobility, but mask it with a collective rhetoric and promise of a fight for the “everyman.”
The next morning, my host mom had talked to one of her daughters, who lives with her family in the U.S. She said that her 8-year-old granddaughter wept when she found out that Donald Trump had won. I thought about an 8-year-old girl, who my host mom continually tells me is a lover of science and animals, weeping at the sight of a hateful, misogynist, racist man with a violent orange face talking at her on the TV about how she doesn’t matter because she is a woman and a person of color.
I am left thinking about how I talk about America while abroad. I have found in India thus far that discussions of the U.S. are almost too positive, and praise America as a beacon of democracy, beauty, opportunity, and cleanliness. Often, I am left to try and politely explain that America comes with a lot of its own problems that are often unaccounted for and that should be challenged by people here. Now, I genuinely struggle to find something even remotely redeemable about America’s democracy or prosperity or whatever you want to name it. I was and am still angry, and have finally shattered my optimistic illusion about the state of women in the U.S. and realized that this America doesn’t care about women, and is an old story with an unfortunately predictable ending. To know and see loved ones and members of my community who have experienced sexual assault, blatant racism, and violence and discrimination because of their religion or sexuality try to find safety, agency, and a voice in a democratic process that willingly and proudly elected Donald Trump is a sickening feeling.
While I will not try to account for the various nuances of these collective feelings, my program and I have found support in one another in small ways, and share a sense of helplessness for action while being abroad. We are all women, and while we differ from each other in life experiences with race and sexuality, I feel comforted to be surrounded by like minded women who share anger, hurt, and upset by this infringement on our safety, on our health, and on our political agency.
A part of me is happy to be abroad for these results. I have been given a privilege to be absent from public spaces that are now rendered unsafe and harmful for women, people of color, and members of queer, latinx, Hispanic, and disabled communities. However, another part of me feels compelled by the incredible activism taking place on GW’s campus and across college campuses in the U.S. to be alongside the students, teachers, and social justice warriors fighting for everyone’s right to safety, respect, tolerance, love, and opportunity. I am grateful to be returning back to a community of service minded students who are working tirelessly to promote the kinds of positive changes and resistance we need right now, and I look forward to be an active force of support within this community in the coming semester.