An anonymous post from a Women’s Center community member learning how to navigate a polarizing political climate.

My Post-Trump Journey, Part I: The Internal Conflict

When President Donald Trump was elected President of the “Free World,” my heart sank and I felt hopeless. I was in so much shock; I was truthfully in denial. I remember going to class the next day and feeling so gloomy. My helplessness and somberness was reflected in my peers around me. I remember clearly that it had been raining that day, and it had never been more appropriate. It had felt like the world was going to absolute shit.

I think many people can agree that Trump’s campaign was built on homophobic, racist, sexist, and xenophobic rhetoric. As an immigrant woman of color, I took all of it personally.

During the campaign season, I never thought he could actually win. I didn’t believe that people from the “Land of the Free” would ever vote for Trump. I just assumed that supporters of Trump were an extreme minority of the population.

Boy, was I wrong.

My shock and denial eventually turned into anger. I began to harbor intense resentment towards the people that voted for him. I immediately labeled them all as homophobic, racist, sexist, and xenophobic. I started seeing them as enemies. It worsened when I found out that people who were close to me had voted for him. A few members of my extended family had voted for him, and the betrayal cut deep.

I remember in the months before the election, one of my suitemates had admitted that she (and her friend who was visiting) would probably vote for Trump. This admission was worse than if they had hit me. I couldn’t contain my disgust. I vehemently asked, “how can you support someone that is a racist?” Flustered, she responded, “He is the Republican candidate, and it’s better to have a Republican candidate in office than a Democrat.” Her friend agreed with this thought process as well.

I was incredulous. How was this a valid explanation in any way? If the situation had been reversed and Trump was a Democrat, I would have gladly voted for a Republican. My suitemates tried to calm me, and eventually told me later that I had overreacted. I didn’t know how to feel; why was I “overreacting” for believing that I was equal and deserved basic rights? How could I be “overreacting” for wanting respect and not to be marginalized? How could I be “overreacting” for not wanting my entire personhood reduced to one identity: brown, immigrant, or woman.

In the days after, I couldn’t contain my rage. I unfriended just about every person I knew that voted for Trump. I was so disgusted with humanity, and more than that, I was repulsed by America. I could hardly understand why my family had left our home country to come to the U.S. anymore.

One day, I got into a really heated discussion with one of my politically moderate friends. He was trying to explain why some people might have voted for Trump, but I just couldn’t hear it. I immediately shut him down and just said, “No, there’s no excuse. These people are the worst.” I remember him clearly saying, “how are you any different than those people if you’re reducing them to only one thing?”

I stopped myself in my tracks. Truthfully, it was like being hit by a truck to say the least. We ended up saying goodbye, but what he said had stuck with me.

I realized he was right.

(Sort of)

My Post-Trump Journey, Part II: Civil Conversations

My friend really got me thinking that day. After deep reflection, I realized that I had to reframe the way I viewed people who had opposing beliefs from me (especially Trump supporters). I realized that if I ever wanted to get anywhere in social justice, I had to stop seeing them as my enemies. In my anger, I had reduced them down to one thing: their prejudice. I didn’t try to understand where they were coming from. What brought them to this point in life where they could believe these things enough to vote for Trump?

It was just too easy to label Trump supporters as purely “evil” or “inhumane.” The world isn’t split into good people and bad people. The human condition is multifaceted and complex. We’ve all got good and bad inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on (yes, I just used a Harry Potter reference). I had to see the humanity in them, even if they couldn’t see the humanity in me.

By seeing the humanity in them, I was able to acknowledge their various explanations for voting for Trump. My mind wasn’t closed anymore because my heart was open. Most people I talked to just wanted someone in office who was not already part of the political elite. Other people with agricultural backgrounds felt that Donald Trump would save them from the economic hardships farmers were facing. A lot of people thought because Donald Trump was a millionaire businessman, he’d be able to spur the economy. Others were vehemently against abortion.

Even the statistics describing who voted for Trump were astonishing. I had assumed the people who voted for Trump were mostly privileged, hateful white men.  However, this was simply not the case. Approximately, 42% of women voted for Trump. Even more surprisingly, 29% of Hispanic voters, 8% of African American voters, and 29% of Asian voters casted ballots in support of Trump. It had been so much more complicated than I originally thought.

However, because I saw the humanity in them, I could still recognize that their decision to vote for Donald Trump contributed to the oppression of minorities.  Many of the people I talked to confessed that they didn’t feel comfortable admitting their support of Trump in fear of being labeled a hateful person. They didn’t feel they were hateful because their reasons for voting for Trump had nothing to do with hate.

I understand that many Trump supporters did not intentionally try to add to the oppression of minorities. However, by voting for a politician that promised oppressive policies, Trump supporters have contributed to the oppression of various groups. Many of them felt that Trump’s harmful rhetoric was the “lesser of two evils.” His supporters weren’t alarmed by his oppressive rhetoric because they wouldn’t be directly affected by it (or so they thought). Nevertheless, as Desmond Tutu aptly said, “if you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

I truly believe that Trump supporters have good in them. In seeing the humanity in them, I’d be able to have meaningful conversations. When I had viewed them as inhumane, I was too angry to listen to their ideas and opinions. The definition of a conversation is the “exchange of ideas by spoken words;” that exchange of ideas wasn’t happening because I wasn’t listening. I realized that I could never change their minds if I didn’t also listen. In the current political climate, it’s so important to have meaningful conversations on difficult topics. To be able to have these difficult conversations with someone, you have to be able to listen. I’ve been told, “we have two ears and one mouth, so we should listen more than we say.” Similarly, we have to listen to understand, not just to reply.

As a part of the Women’s Center, I’ve learnt to facilitate these conversation using “Brave Space” guidelines. Many of us in college and universities have heard of “Safe Spaces.” Safe Spaces are learning environments that allows people to engage with one another over controversial issues with honesty, sensitivity and respect. The problem with Safe Spaces is that once people feel that they are entering dangerous waters in a conversation, they revert to safety. They invoke the Safe Space guidelines, and the conversation ends there.

Safe Spaces allow people with power and privilege to maintain their dominance. For example, if a woman is describing sexual harassment that she has faced from men. A male member of the group might invoke Safe Space guidelines out of discomfort. By invoking Safe Space guidelines, the male member would not be able to have the difficult conversation on harmful masculinity.

Unlike Safe Space guidelines, Brave space guidelines discourage this retreat into safety. Talking about social justice, like issues of poverty, racism and sexism, is 100% uncomfortable no matter who you are. Brave Spaces acknowledge the power dynamics and oppressive structures that make conversations difficult. People get very emotional about these topics, regardless of their views. To create the social justice change that we want, we have to take risks, tackle personal barriers, and simmer in controversy. These values are just incompatible with the idea of safety. Through these Brave Space guidelines, I learnt how to get past my irritation when talking to someone with completely different views. I realize that if we could both just get past this initial roadblock of frustration that we feel, we could really get somewhere. It’s only when we get past the discomfort and the upset, that we can change minds.

Another great tool that we like to use is “Calling In.” Especially on social media, I constantly see people calling others out for things they post. Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s really important to have these necessary conversations when someone is pushing something homophobic, racist, sexist and/or xenophobic. But I also don’t think that putting them on blast to the public might be the best way to change their mind. By going on the offensive, we’ve probably just worsened the situation. The person is more likely to get defensive and more adamant. They will not try to understand the real message that we’re trying to say.

Calling In means understanding and allowing mistakes to happen. It starts with identifying the problematic behavior and talking to the person about it like you guys are people who genuinely care about each other. It’s about offering patience and compassion, while still keeping it real. I love using this technique when I’m having difficult conversations, and confronting people with opposing views. It’s a great way to convey your values and beliefs without harming another person.

In the end, I realize that Trump supporters aren’t evil or my enemies. Regardless of how different you feel from a person, we’re all human. We have to focus on what we have in common, not what we don’t. It is from this perspective that we can have meaningful conversations about what we disagree on.

Resources:

“Calling IN: A Less Disposable Way of Holding Each Other Accountable “ by Ngọc Loan Trần

“From Safe Spaces to Brave Spaces” by Brian Arao and Kristi Clemens

“How I learned to stop worrying and love discussing race” by Jay Smooth at TEDxHampshireCollege