How Did We Get Here? Grieving What Could Have Been

Untangling the Pain, the Anger, and what the fuck...

When I woke up on Wednesday, it hit like a punch to the gut—shock and numbness, blending into something heavier. Trump had won again. I couldn’t believe it. How? Why? And more painfully—why so easily? Harris put up a good fight, but “good” wasn’t enough, and here we are.

Writing this isn’t easy. Days have passed, but that ache still lingers, a heaviness that follows you around. Driving home, I watched signs of hope tossed aside like last week’s garbage: Harris posters, “My Body, My Choice” boards, all of it dumped, stripped down, faded. What was once a patchwork of belief and ambition, now trashed. Neighbors yanked down their signs like they wanted to forget they’d ever believed in something better. The sight, simple as it was, hit deep. We all felt that weight, and it’s not gone.

Watching Kamala Harris speak on Wednesday gave us something, though—maybe not comfort, but a kind of steadiness. She told us, “It’s OK to feel sad and disappointed, but please know it’s going to be OK.” I clung to that. We all did. Somehow, those words felt like a lifeline, like we’re allowed this hurt, allowed to sit in it, to let it remind us why we care so damn much.

We saw it all, didn’t we? Kamala’s rallies filled to the brim, the endless lines of early voters, the record-breaking fundraising. The momentum was ours, an energy crackling through the air like static. But it wasn’t enough. The Democrats fumbled. Harris didn’t make herself distinct from Biden. She leaned too heavily on celebrity voices. Meanwhile, the party turned a blind eye to Biden’s approval ratings, shrugging off what was obvious to the rest of us—his struggle to connect, his declining numbers, the undeniable signs of fatigue. They pretended that everything was fine in "Biden’s America," dismissing anyone who voiced concerns as misled or too far gone.

And they never treated Trump like a real opponent. They held him up as an existential threat to democracy—rightfully so, let’s be clear about that—but in doing so, they lost sight of the policies and issues that actually drew people to him. They overlooked how many Americans turned a blind eye to Trump’s hateful comments, his divisive rhetoric, even his conviction as a felon, all because they desperately wanted economic change. For that group, Trump’s promise to shake up the system outweighed his words and actions. The Democrats, meanwhile, acted like they were too good to engage with the core of his appeal, brushing it off as irrational, which only made them seem out of touch—almost hysterical in their avoidance.

On top of that, the Democrats’ stance on Israel and Palestine was a slap in the face. The Biden Administration kept fueling Israel’s arsenal, even as the conflict bled into Lebanon. Harris didn’t veer from Biden on this—she didn’t make room for the voices that needed to be heard. When Palestinian activists interrupted her, she hit back with, “If you want Donald Trump to win, then say that.” As if wanting justice and equality equates to endorsing the other side. They wouldn’t even let a Palestinian-American speak at the DNC. Meanwhile, Harris is standing next to Liz Cheney, but Rashida Tlaib? Nowhere to be seen. Democrats treat the struggle for Palestinian freedom like it’s radioactive, a taboo nobody wants to touch.

I don’t know what comes next. I’m still processing, still angry, and there’s no easy fix for any of this. And honestly, I don’t blame anyone who feels like throwing in the towel on politics altogether. The last few months have been heavy—full of emotion, frustration, and endless tension. Families have been divided, friendships ended. Politics has this way of poisoning connections, making everything feel a little darker, a little more draining. So, if you’re saying, I need a break from it all, I get it. I really do.

Maybe, as gutting as this all feels, that pain is something we carry forward. Maybe it’s a reminder of how much we care, how deeply we want a future that feels better than this. I’m working on a piece about the growing division in this country, and one thing is clear: neither party has done a good job of bringing us together. Both sides, in their own ways, have let this fracture grow deeper. And I don’t know if there’s a way to bridge that divide or if we’ll keep drifting further apart.

If this experience has shown me anything, it’s that there’s a quiet, shared ache among us all—a weariness that feels almost too big to bear. And maybe that’s just the reality we’re left with.