I step out onto the street and it’s pitch black. The roads are empty and lamp light glows on the pavement. In my left hand I clutch an alarm with my fingers poised to pull the pin should anyone get too close. I’m aware of everything and everyone. I cross the road when figures approach. I stay out of reaching distance. My legs are electric and ready to sprint. My head twitches as a taxi driver slams the door shut. I can never be too careful. I used to think there was nothing I would drop my guard for.

One morning in early November I was walking in the darkness and reached the corner of the slip road to the gym. On the corner is a hotel with floor-to-ceiling glass windows through which I often watch people eating croissants or ladelling themselves a puddle of baked beans. At the far end of the breakfast buffet is a TV showing the news. I was surprised, that morning, to see a group of people gathered at the window. They were all men. I could tell from the breadth of their shoulders as they stood with their backs facing me, looking in. Some wore high viz, others wore suit trousers, a couple wore steel-capped boots. I tentatively walked towards them, my heart raced and my grip tightened around the alarm. No one noticed as I approached. They didn’t move at all. Their chins were titled up and their eyes transfixed on the screen inside which read ‘Harris 226 Trump 312’.

We couldn’t hear any sound, we could only watch the news presenters opening and closing their mouths while the banner read ‘TRUMP WINS PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION 2024’. The man to my right turned to me and said “What the fuck”. I’ll never forget that morning. Before that moment I would have thought that nothing on this Earth could make me stand elbow to elbow in the dark, empty streets with a group of men. Some things are so backwards they make you forget about everything else; personal safety out the window, the pounding of my heart numbed, the pin slipped from my fingers; what would sounding the alarm do for this?

So began the social media onslaught—this I did enjoy. I saw a photo of balloon letters lined up as if for a baby shower with the letters ‘RA-IST’ and someone holding a ‘C’ and a ‘P’ in either hand, unsure which to place in the middle. I saw a tweet about Kelly Clarkson winning American Idol with the caption ‘the last time America voted with any sense’. While this was funny and affirmed that not everyone had gone mad, the whole thing felt terrifying. I was in complete disbelief. ‘How could this happen?’ I kept asking myself. 

The most terrifying thing is that he was democratically appointed. By legal definition, he is the rightful president, elected by the people and for the people to make America great again. It may have been naive, but I didn’t realise that so many people believe in what Trump stands for. On his own Trump stands singular, mortal and withering. One day he will grow older and be buried like everyone else. Unfortunately dying won’t be the end of Trump. If we identify a child-eating snake in the village, we hunt the snake, kill it and end our terror. Trump is a problem much unlike this. He is only a personification of all the right-wing, racist, misogynistic, elitist ideology that exists in the proven majority of Americans. This ideology has its own lungs and is running rife like wildfire. It won’t die when he dies, it’s regenerative, folkloric, and will be passed down through generations. Like many, I’m sure, I felt completely heartbroken and useless. There is very little I can do about this. I am not a US citizen and Trump is not my president, they voted for him and now they have him. Neither I nor scathing social media posts can do anything to change that.

As an ordinary individual, my circle of influence is minute and does not include the US election. I could not change the election any more than I could travel to the future. I wanted to do something good to help people who would suffer from the vote. I decided to donate to an organisation that supports women’s reproductive rights in the US through legal support. I filled out the form, paid my money, got my thank you email and then, once again, felt completely useless behind my computer. There are people who will feel the devastating effect of the vote in their lives and I wish we could fix that. The unconvincing truth is that all I can do is try and do the right things myself, be kind, and support the right causes when I can. I must look out for opportunities for goodness — none of this feels like enough. 

Every time I walk past that hotel on the corner I think of that morning. I think of the shock that stopped us all and glued our eyes to the screen. I think of how I can close my jaw and walk away from it relatively easily; I think of those who can’t. Like standing too close to a fire I can see the Republican red light pouring out the screen and casting shadows on our faces. The devil appears in a red flame and has been housed in the Oval Office where he will stay for four long-suffering years to come; the crowd cheers.

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