In 36 minutes, as I start this post, President Obama will no longer be my president. Our president. In my opinion, the best president of my lifetime, and one of the best overall.
I worry. I worry for my babies. I worry for my husband. I worry for my friends and family. I worry for POC, I worry for women, I worry for the LGBTQ community. I worry.
I worry to the point of tears. And yet I don’t wish to spill any tears.
I don’t know what to do. How do I explain this to my kids, who are too young to have any clue, but will one day ask what went wrong?
I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain why our country failed us. Why in 2016, we can still watch a woman, the most qualified presidential candidate in the history of our country, lose the election to an old white guy who is so under qualified that he literally has no experience. That his winning was due to treasonous acts within our own country and abroad.
I’m just sick over it. This is how dystopia starts. With tweets and lies and under qualified individuals running the country like a board game.
I have never been so embarrassed to be an American.
I went to Paris, France in January of 2009. So many Parisians asked me about President Obama and celebrated with me. His picture was everywhere.
I’d try to hide my accent if I went now.
What do I tell my babies?
Thank God they’re still small enough for that parental protective cocoon.
It’s gonna be alright.