It’s been a week.
If you’re in the U.S., no matter where you fall politically, I suspect you know what I mean. The recent presidential election didn’t go as I’d hoped, and I find myself sitting with mixed emotions. I’m not someone who dives deeply into the weeds of policies or politics. Generally, I believe there’s rarely a clear “right way”—most policies come with their own pros and cons, and every opinion differs based on individual priorities and life experiences.
But this election has revealed two things I just can't shake. Two things that have left me feeling disappointed, scared, and honestly, pretty heartbroken.
1. The Lack of Solidarity Among Women
One of the most disheartening aspects has been seeing so many women tear down Kamala Harris—criticizing her for not being “strong enough” or “empathetic enough.” But I can’t help but wonder, are we truly looking for strength in women, or are we demanding perfection? And what do we even mean when we say “strong”? Is strength only about assertiveness, or is it also about empathy, resilience, and imperfection? I think it’s worth asking if strength looks different for each of us, and if we’re making room for strong women to be flawed and human.
You don’t have to like Kamala Harris or agree with her policies, but can we take a moment to recognize the layers of expectation that the patriarchy has placed on women? It’s like that iconic scene from the Barbie movie: if we stay with our cheating husbands, we’re seen as weak pushovers; if we leave, we’re labeled unforgiving or selfish. Speak up too forcefully, and we’re “aggressive”; stay quiet, and we’re “followers.”
I wish we, as women, understood that sometimes we perpetuate these impossible standards ourselves. We think men are the only ones keeping us disempowered, but how can we expect men to support us when we don’t always support each other?
The day of the election, I saw someone post, “Let’s teach our daughters to vote for strong women, not for women who gaslight and stay with their cheating husbands.” This hit a nerve. Why are we still holding women to impossible standards? Can we empathize with the complex pressures a woman might face when making deeply personal decisions—like staying in a relationship? Haven't we’ve all stayed in situations we knew weren’t great for us because we didn’t like the consequences of leaving?
2. The Dehumanization of Immigrants—and the Power of Misinformation
The second issue that I can’t get behind is the dehumanization of immigrants, especially when it’s fueled by rhetoric that distorts the truth. I’ll admit, I don’t pretend to understand all the complexities of undocumented immigration or refugee resettlement in the U.S. I know there’s no perfect solution, only trade-offs. But what bothers me deeply is the loss of empathy for individuals seeking a better life. Somewhere along the line, we’ve moved from seeing immigrants as people with hopes, dreams, and struggles, to treating them as “problems” to be solved.
It’s deeply unsettling to see elected leaders gain support by making statements that are exaggerated or simply untrue—stories of people “eating cats and dogs” or entire cities “taken over by gangs” used as scare tactics. The disturbing thing is, even when we think we can recognize what’s true and what’s a ploy for votes, hearing these messages repeatedly has an impact. When a narrative—like “immigrants are dangerous”—is repeated over and over, even if we believe we don’t agree with it, it can still seep into our subconscious. We may think we don’t see immigrants or refugees as dangerous, but hearing that they are can start to trigger subtle feelings of fear or suspicion.
This, to me, is one of the most troubling aspects of modern politics: it’s not just about policy, it’s about influence. Repeated narratives have the power to shape our beliefs in ways we don’t fully understand. We need to ask ourselves if the stories we’re absorbing align with our values and our empathy.
Responding Rather Than Reacting
In the past few days, I’ve tried to sit with this mix of emotions rather than react impulsively. I’ve spent time in nature, practiced yoga, meditated, and done breathwork—all with the intention of listening to what’s going on inside me. I wanted to respond to my emotions with intention rather than let them push me into reaction.
Finally, I asked myself a question that has become one of my favorites: How am I complicit in creating the situation I say I don’t want? I didn’t vote for Donald Trump, but if I’m being very honest with myself, I’ve played into the very system and collective mindset that brought us here.
Here’s what I realized. I spend too much time reading divisive social media comments—unconsciously confirming the that people are terrible. I’ve also failed to invest enough time in building relationships with my community, particularly with the immigrants and refugees who are my neighbors. I live in Denver, a sanctuary city, and yet I haven’t protected my mind enough from the pervasive narrative that refugees and immigrants are dangerous. I’m beginning to realize that while reading can teach you a lot, relationships are what confirm for us that most people are good at heart.
And when I reflect on women’s solidarity, I also have to acknowledge that I haven’t always been the ally I strive to be today. In my younger years, I judged women harshly for not meeting society’s standards. I slut-shamed, body-shamed, gossiped, and assumed I knew everyone’s motives and intentions. I’ve worked hard to unlearn these patterns, but I still catch myself falling back into judgments—like tsk-tsk-ing certain “unattractive” behaviors, clothing choices, or lifestyle preferences. The patriarchy’s influence runs deep, and unlearning it is an ongoing process.
Moving Forward: Committing to Growth and Change
As I think about moving forward, I know that I can’t control much beyond myself. But I also don’t want my focus on personal growth to turn into an escape from the world’s problems. So I’m finding ways to center on my own actions in a way that still acknowledges and engages with what’s happening around me.
I’ve started making a list of the things I can focus on that, while beginning with me, may contribute to change in the world as well:
More yoga: I may not be able to bring about world peace, but inner peace is valuable. It’s one step toward being more present and grounded.
More meditation, journaling and breathwork: The calmer I am, the more capacity I have for empathy and compassion. Regulating my nervous system has to come first.
Building relationships with people I’m likely to have unconscious biases toward: I’m making more of an effort to connect with people of color, LGBTQ individuals, immigrants, and refugees. Volunteering, supporting businesses run by these folks, and bearing witness to their struggles and stories. I want to make sure I'm being proactive in knowing and seeing people as humans, not as statistics or issues.
Bringing more questions into my belief work and self-reflection practices around social issues and biases: I tend to focus my introspection on my beliefs about myself—my feelings, goals, and inner challenges. Now, I want to ask myself more questions about other people and my beliefs about different systems and communities.
This election has been a reminder that we all have work to do, both individually and collectively. And maybe that work begins with reflecting more often, listening more deeply, judging less harshly, and offering each other the support we all need.
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