I woke up. I stepped gingerly out of the bedroom. I found my husband. I had to ask. I didn’t watch the results coming in because, well because American politics is stressful and anger-inducing. American politics, with its anger and fear-mongering can make you want to curl up with a picture of Justin Trudeau and fall asleep wrapped in a Maple Leaf decorated duvet while listening to The Tragically Hip.
“Who is their President?” I asked. I didn’t expect I would be surprised. Surely, common sense prevailed. Surely, I would get to tell my girls that history had been made and there would be a Madame President to discuss over breakfast.
“The Bad Man.” My husband said.
“No, you’re just saying that.” I laugh. He wanted to see the look on my face. He wanted to have a laugh, right?
“I’m not kidding.” He said.
It’s one of those things you know. You’ll always remember where you were and how you found out. Like the day Princess Diana died, or September 11th or when you read your first Harry Potter novel.
This won’t be measured prose, or even well-thought out, for that matter. This is a completely reactive and emotional response to one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to witness.
You knew I’d write about it, right? I feel I’m at a safe distance, up here in Canada, to see your American Election results for what they are. A complete and utter abomination of all things good and fair. A terrifying testament to what a large portion of your country is thinking. A confirmation of the racism, misogyny, and general hate in the hearts and minds of enough of your population to elect a fucking MadMan.
He’s a bad man, an evil man, and he didn’t even have to hide it from you to garner your support. You elected a boogeyman and now you have to live with it.
Many of you voted for Hillary. Many of you see the monster for what he is. You fear for minorities, people with disabilities, women and children, LGBTQ and those seeking asylum from dictators and wars and other such atrocities.
You’re shocked. You’ve no choice but to watch the next four years unfold like some fucking slow-motion nightmare from which you can’t wake up.
I’m so sorry. Come up here. We have civil rights and freedoms for everyon. We can protect you from him.
I guess, it’s true, anyone can grow up to be President of the United States.
Happy Mail to:
27 Wellington Row
Saint John, NB
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Grace and Kate's mom. (Shanell)