Dear Dad,
I’ve spent more than a week contemplating what I should express to you, and I’m still unsure if I can articulate it correctly. Nevertheless, I’ll attempt to share my thoughts.
First and foremost, thank you. Thank you for refraining from calling or texting me as the election results unfolded. Thank you for not reveling in the outcome when it was clear before bedtime. Thank you for considering how to approach me rather than simply reacting. Thank you for reaching out about the passing of Issue 44, for striving to maintain a positive outlook, and for saying things like, “hopefully, in four years, better candidates will emerge” and “perhaps both parties can collaborate to impeach him.” I appreciate your effort to remain mature, but more than anything, I am grateful for you simply being my father.
It has been some time since you’ve acted as just my dad. I can only imagine how challenging it must be to have grown children, especially when you might not always share common ground with them.
I see you, Dad. I was genuinely surprised by how you managed your response to the election results, and I say that with gratitude.
However, I am also profoundly disheartened by your voting choice. You are the father of two daughters—two intelligent, strong women whom you raised to understand their value and worth. How could you betray us by voting for a man who believes he can sexually assault women without repercussions due to his wealth and fame? Is it because you know he wouldn’t respect my sister’s or my own bodies? How could you support a candidate who discredits the capabilities of women who don’t fit a narrow beauty standard? How could a father of two girls align himself with a man who has made lewd comments about his own daughter’s appearance?
Moreover, you voted for this man despite his running mate, Mike Pence, who has targeted the LGBT community—one to which your youngest daughter belongs. How could you support candidates who threaten your own daughter’s right to marry someone she loves? How could you endorse individuals who view your daughter as an affront to their beliefs? How could you support a team that incites hatred toward your own child?
What does your decision say about your concern for the safety and well-being of your children? What kind of parent is that?
And now, consider your two granddaughters, the only grandchildren you have. What future have you chosen for them? What kind of world will they inherit? What distorted views might they adopt in a society where Muslims are forced to register and identify themselves? How will this affect their understanding of freedom of religion? What kind of individuals might they become when hatred and bigotry are openly endorsed? What was once whispered in secret is now shouted from rooftops, fueled by Trump’s candidacy and impending presidency. The prejudiced individuals who once hid in shame are now emboldened. My child will attend school with their children—what will she face? How much effort will I need to exert to raise an open-minded and loving child?
This barely scratches the surface of my concerns. I couldn’t express all my fears in a single letter, even if I wrote for days. I am scared for my safety, for my sister’s safety, and for my friends who belong to marginalized communities. I fear for friends facing deportation due to harsh immigration policies. I worry about educated professionals struggling to survive in a flawed academic system, who rely on welfare programs and are threatened by proposed economic changes.
I fear for all of us, Dad, as you should. You elected as commander-in-chief a man who glorifies war and believes violence is the solution to diplomacy. He is now in charge of nuclear weapons, and we should all be alarmed. A nuclear disaster is a legitimate concern under his leadership.
Even if we don’t face annihilation, his economic policies threaten our livelihoods. You may have voted for a tax break, but this has come at the expense of your daughter’s safety. You sold out your children for a potential tax cut that you may never receive.
I hope you’re proud of that decision.
The troubling part is that I know you are. You’ve often said you “don’t vote issues.” You don’t consider the rights of others, and while that is your prerogative, it’s disheartening. It’s your choice to prioritize your interests over your children’s safety, and you’ve exercised that right, but it’s a right you should feel ashamed of.
You have let us down.
While you cannot change your vote, you can use your voice for positive change. You can stay informed about legislation affecting your children and speak out against it. You can reach out to your representatives and express that laws rooted in hate do not reflect your values. You can challenge your peers when they express prejudiced views. If your party continues down a path of oppression, you can leave. It’s acceptable to have differing views on government and economic issues, but it’s unacceptable to support a party that threatens human rights, especially when those humans are your daughters.
You have a long way to go to regain my respect.
I understand that I have said things in the aftermath of this election that may have hurt you. I acknowledge that I have considered distancing myself from you. However, I am grateful for how you have conducted yourself post-election. I appreciate that our relationship hasn’t suffered as it has in the past due to political differences.
In light of this election, I am committed to not excluding conservatives from my life. People like you need perspectives that challenge your views. I am resolved to speak out, and if you truly are not the terrible bigot I perceive, you will stand with me, open your heart, and listen. I have insights that you may not, and now is the time for you to start hearing them.
Here’s to both of us making an effort to set aside partisan politics to mend this situation you have contributed to. Not for your sake, but for ours. I still believe we can be stronger together.
Love,
Rachel