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Marah Evans

November, 2016:

All I see is red

Blood red

Pouring over states


I watch your expression as you see the map,

The representation of your country,

Your America,


Siding with a man who believes your faith defines who you are


A man who desires you to wear an ID tag, to exist on a registry


A man who considers your religion to be comprised of extremists


A man we assumed would never triumph


…But he did.



We sit together, stunned into our silence.

This is no time to force ourselves to be content with outcomes, to pretend that we aren’t damaged.


This is time to grieve.

Grieve for Americans who feel betrayed,

not because of what party won,

but because of what Trump stands for.

He openly talks about sexually assaulting women,

enforces negative stereotypes against those with disabilities,

he speaks about the danger of Muslims and Mexicans.



I worry.

For the safety and security of those who are “different”

For those who fear they are seen as “others.”



I cry.

I feel hopeless, lost, and afraid.

Disappointed, uncomfortable, and panicky.

Frightened for you.


You tell me you’ll be fine.

That you can handle yourself,

And I don’t doubt that-

That’s not the point.

The point is it’s not fair

It’s not right.

It hurts.


You leave to lock buildings,

I wrap up my work for the night.

2 am, I throw my backpack on.

It’s heavier now.

I say to myself a mantra for strength;


Get up. Fight for what you believe in. Repeat.


Get up.


Fight for what you believe in.




People are people.

No matter what they look like, whom they love, what they wear, their past, their native language, their aptitude, or their salary.


Love all people.

Love people for who they are.


Love trumps Trump.

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