Why I, a queer woman, am terrified of the Trump presidency
I don’t have the luxury of optimism
Donald Trump’s presidential campaign was fraught with inflammatory, discriminatory, hateful rhetoric. For some, this was not enough to elicit pause, but as for me, I do not have that luxury. As a queer woman, I am uncomfortable putting the future of my nation in the hands of a man who has proven time and again to be wholly disinterested in the safety and well-being of queer Americans.
Donald Trump has pledged to sign into law the First Amendment Defense Act, which would prevent employers, landlords, healthcare professionals, and others from facing punishment for discriminating against LGBTQ+ individuals. This will be a major setback in rights for queer and trans people, and it scares me deeply. It scares me because I already have to navigate the world without knowing how the next person I meet might react to my queerness should they find out. This scares me because I have queer friends, some more obviously queer than I, who are at risk of hateful language and violence every time they leave their homes. This scares me because one of the most fundamental elements of our nation is equality for all, and if some of us are permitted to treat others poorly because of the way they love or the way they present themselves to the world, what other basic rights will we be asked to forfeit under President Trump?
It could be argued that Trump’s anti-LGBTQ+ and anti-women rhetoric is all talk, that he was trying to court the far-right vote, that he’ll move to the middle once he’s in office. Again, that is a nice idea, but I could not afford to take that gamble. What if he follows through with his promises—after all, isn’t that what we want, what we expect from our elected officials? What if his attitude of exclusion, of othering people who are different from him, continues into his presidency? Being able to ignore these threats is an example of extreme privilege. I cannot ignore the people who publicly hate so much about who I am.
I understand a lot of what was popular about Trump’s campaign. He promised change, a return to America’s former glory, a nationalistic ideology. All of these things are appealing for various reasons, especially to those who feel financially disenfranchised, left behind by a rapidly progressing world. I don’t fault people for finding comfort in the idea of an outsider shaking up the world of politics, that’s what the American dream is, someone rising up to make the world different. All I hoped was that voters would prioritize the rights and safety of millions of Americans over the outsider narrative.
On November 8th, America voted for empty promises of change over their own self-interests. America voted for discrimination, for misogyny, for fear tactics, for the reversal of decades of progress. I am scared. I am a queer woman in a country where neither my queerness nor my womanhood are particularly valued. Trump has routinely spoken out against queer people and women, as well as a host of other marginalized identities- Muslims, Latinx people, people with disabilities, black people, immigrants, Asians, and prisoners of war. If you haven’t felt the harsh sting of Trump’s rhetoric, congratulations. To the rest of us, he is a real and sincere threat. My recommendation to you is to not get comfortable. After all, given how quickly he’s turned on millions of his constituents, what makes you think you won’t be next?
Donald Trump and Mike Pence–along with a Republican Congress and a conservative Supreme Court–pose very real, very credible threats to my rights and to my person. The rhetoric espoused during this election season has engendered and amplified hateful, misogynistic, queerphobic, transphobic, racist attitudes among millions of Americans, some of whom live in my very neighborhood, go to my classes. I do not know how I will survive four years of the Trump presidency. But I know this: I will fight, and I will protest, and in 2018 I will try to change the makeup of our Congress, but I will not let myself fall victim to false optimism. Based on his own rhetoric, there is nothing to feel optimistic about regarding Donald Trump.
I appreciate the efforts after this election to bridge the gap between the right and the left, between those in power and minority groups. I agree with the sentiment that our nation is a lot more divided than we previously believed, and that that is not a sustainable way of life for a country. But for me, optimism will not suffice. Action will. Protest will. Discontent will. I refuse to leave my future, my rights, my safety in the hands of a fascist demagogue. I have work to do, we all do, and I can’t just hope for a better future. I have to make one.