No Excuses

If you voted for the president-elect in the recent U.S. election, today’s post was not written with you in mind. Please respect the fact that many of us are working through genuine fears, whether or not you believe those concerns are warranted.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up feeling positive and energized. I dressed for work in a pantsuit and took a photo with a group of people who’d done the same, in celebration of a historic moment: a woman was on the ballot as a major-party candidate for president. The whole day felt hopeful. I was ready to meet the future.

Then, Tuesday evening, election returns began to roll in. My daughter texted in panic. Current and former students texted as well. How can this be happening? they asked. The only answer I had for them is the answer I’ve always given, in situations like this one.

I’ll get to that answer in a moment. But first, I’ll mention that I woke up earlier than usual Wednesday morning, too overcome with dread even to sleep. Maybe a bunch of late returns came in. This might be one of those situations where it looks one way and turns out the opposite, I thought. I managed to keep myself from looking at my phone for an hour or so. As a friend later said, “It’s almost like you can make yourself believe that if you just don’t look at your phone, it didn’t really happen.”

But it did happen. Almost a full week later, I’m just barely able to write about it.

I didn’t vote for Hillary Clinton because she’s a woman. In fact, I voted for our current president in the 2008 primary. Many people were surprised by this. “I would have thought you’d go for the woman,” a colleague said. I didn’t ask the obvious question: You thought that because I’m a woman? (So is the colleague who asked this question, though she was not supporting Clinton.)

This time around, I voted for Hillary Clinton because I believed she was the most qualified candidate. I still do. If you’ve looked at the popular vote, you know a majority of Americans thought so, too. But those Americans weren’t collected in the right places, and as a result the electoral college delivered a president-elect without a popular majority. It’s not the first time this has happened. Very likely, it won’t be the last. But this is the first time in my adult life that I’ve felt personally devastated by a presidential election.

You may wonder why I think this president will change my life in any way. After all, I occupy a position of some privilege in our culture: I’m educated and make enough money to support my family. I’m white, heterosexual, and Christian. I was born within the established political boundaries of the United States. Make no mistake, I’m well aware of all these things.

But I’m also a woman. And, more importantly, a person who cares about the dignity of all human beings.

Right after the now-infamous Access Hollywood tapes were released, we talked about the election in my Women’s Studies class. What I told my students was this: I was stunned that anyone cared. They looked startled. “Of course people care when a guy talks about grabbing a woman without her permission,” a male student said.

I just shook my head. “I’ve spent my whole life hearing men say things like that about women,” I said. “And I’ve spent my whole life hearing people make excuses for them. You know that’s just how guys talk. They wouldn’t really do it. So if it turns out that misogyny is actually this man’s downfall, I will be shocked. Delighted, but shocked. I’ll be glad to know our culture has changed and people actually do care about the dignity of women.”

What the election results tell me is that my first response was the correct one: I was right to be stunned, because most people really didn’t care that much. Not enough to repudiate his words, anyway. (When I say “most people,” I’m including those who didn’t vote at all–nearly 50% of the electorate. Not voting is tantamount to saying I’m cool with whatever the rest of you decide. If you’re cool with misogyny, well, we’re not on the same page. Or, for that matter, from the same planet.)

Many people who voted for the president-elect have tried to explain their support, saying “I don’t agree with a lot of the things he said, but . . . ” If you hear people saying this, listen carefully to the end of that sentence. Whatever follows that but is the thing they value more than human dignity. To be perfectly honest, I don’t care what that is. I care that it is. I plan to challenge the end of that sentence every time I hear it. I dare anyone to complete that sentence in my presence. I refuse to accept that anything is more important than human dignity.

That’s what informs my response to questions like How can this be happening? All I could tell those who’d texted me was what I’d told my students in class: This is what has always been happening.

Change is hard. It requires enough bravery to face the unknown. But the world keeps changing, whether or not we’re brave enough to face it. People can tell themselves (and the rest of us) that a guy who builds his entire campaign on the word “again” is promising something new, but the truth is obvious enough. “Again” means what it means.

So people can keep on saying “I don’t agree with a lot of the things he said, but . . . ” I simply will not accept any excuse for that vote. Only a complete refusal to accept any ending of that sentence will get us through the next four years. And only making human dignity our highest priority will help us create a better world on the other side.