The ghost of election past looms large tonight

What we can learn from the trauma of Election Day in 2016

I’ve found that there are two types of trauma stories women are willing to talk at length about: what happened to them when they gave birth and what happened to them the night Hillary Clinton lost the election.

I’m no exception. When perfect strangers ask me how many kids I have, it’s entirely possible I’ll begin sharing the most intimate details about having placenta previa during my first pregnancy, along with a blow-by-blow of the manual delivery of the afterbirth. I don’t share this story because I’m still traumatized, but to connect with other women who have experienced and healed from similar trauma.

Healed is the operative word here. And that’s why, on this historic Election Day, I’m sharing my own Clinton election night story. Not to scare you, but because I know that no matter what happens tonight (and in the coming days), we will heal from the pain, suffering and trauma that a monumental and devastating election loss would cause so many of us. We will strengthen our resolve. We will continue to fight. We will protect the most marginalized among us. And, eventually, we’ll win.

Eight years ago, I flew to New York City to attend Hillary Clinton’s victory party at the Javits Center. As the founder of Moms Demand Action, I’d spent months canvassing and calling to get out the vote for Clinton/Kaine, and I was ready to celebrate the hard work of our volunteers with a huge party. I’d invited an Ohio volunteer as my plus one. I had my makeup done and got a blowout at the Dry Bar. I put on a white dress to represent the suffragists who had fought for 100 years for the right of all women to vote.

Standing in the huge line to get into the Javits Center, the thought that we might lose never entered my mind. Despite some polls that showed otherwise, I was certain that America would vote for and elect the most qualified candidate. A woman. And as someone born in 1971 when abortion was still illegal and my mother wasn’t legally allowed to have a credit card, I was about to have a front row seat to history being made.

I had a front-row seat, all right. As the polls started closing and the data rolled in, the early results weren’t where anyone expected them to be. Everyone around me kept saying, “Don’t worry. She’ll pull it off.” But as the hours went on and we lost Florida and the blue wall fell apart, the energy in the room downgraded from excitement, to concern, to shock. Instead of the glass ceiling shattering, it felt like the sky was falling.

At about 9:30 pm, I realized Hillary Clinton was going to lose. So did everyone else. Some people put their head in their hands or laid down on the floor. Some people started hugging and crying. I started shaking uncontrollably, the way I had in my early twenties when I found out my parents were getting divorced. It was as if I were standing outside in the cold night with no clothes on. Thankfully I had the good sense to realize I was losing my composure, and I decided to walk back to my hotel room. Shaking so much I was barely able to hold onto my phone, I called my husband. “What will we do?” I asked him, not sure whether I meant our family, all women, or the nation collectively. I’m not sure what he said—I didn’t have the capacity to listen to reassurances yet.

Back in my room, I alternated between the television and Twitter for updates. After a fitful three hours of sleep, I woke up. The results were the same—somehow, Hillary Clinton had lost the election. That’s when the sobbing started. I cried as I checked out of the hotel, I cried as I checked in at LaGuardia, I cried on the plane, and I cried as I drove home. The tears felt unstoppable and endless.

After a couple of days of honoring my postelection sense of loss, my husband said to me, “You need to pull it together. You’re a leader. It’s your job to help people keep going.” Begrudgingly, I knew he was right. I needed to dig deep and find the resilience muscles I’d been building since the beginning of Moms Demand Action. Keep going was part of the ethos of our organization—some of our volunteers had even had it tattooed on their bodies. So I sat down and wrote this Facebook post:

“Someone wise (ok, my husband) pointed out to me that wallowing in despondency over the election results is a luxury too many Americans don't have. Including those who have been shot and killed.

So if I want to be sad for someone today, it's going to be teens with black and brown skin who will be targeted by armed vigilantes. I'll worry about abused women whose partners have guns and are enabled to kill by weak gun laws. I'll be concerned for children who are at risk of having guns forced into grade schools and onto college campuses.

No more posts about existential despair. We all must decide what we're going to do and do it. Are you only tangentially involved in Moms Demand Action? Commit to taking on a leadership role. Make a donation. Insist your friends and family join. Make another donation. Ask strangers to join us. Then wake up and do it again.

Bob Weiss’s daughter Veronika was shot and killed at UCSB. He sent me this note: ‘Since Veronika was murdered, I've changed. I'm still grieving. Probably always will but shit doesn't phase me or scare me anymore. I've already survived a fate worse than death. This horrible election result is a temporary detour. We are winning and will continue to. Hillary is our hero. Our job would be a lot easier with her in the White House. Maybe. She would have faced the same roadblocks as Obama did. We can focus on the states during this brief Trump intermission. Hang in there. I'm proud to be with you.’

That's the truth: our movement has never been about one election —it's about saving lives. And you can bet that with their champion newly elected to the White House, the NRA will strike while the iron is hot in Washington and in our statehouses.

That's why I'll keep waking up every day as a Moms Demand Action volunteer to organize, speak, and travel. And that is an HONOR for which I will never be able to repay the universe.

So here I am, picking up my armor and putting it back on. It's super fucking heavy right now. But it still fits like a glove...”

That’s how I’m thinking about the work over the last 100 plus days with all of you. An honor. I know we’re on the right side of history and no matter what happens tonight, all of you have inspired me to keep going. Because the truth is, no matter who wins, this work isn’t over. It’s just beginning. If Donald Trump wins, we’ll have to play defense like never before. If Kamala Harris wins, we’ll have to organize to lift her up and protect her agenda.

For the foreseeable future—maybe the rest of our lives—Democracy may be in peril. And like a sick child, we will all need to keep working to help it get better—no matter how exhausted we are after this election season.

Eight years later, that election night experience is still as fresh in my mind as my first labor and delivery nearly 30 years ago. Not because it scarred me but because it changed me. That loss helped me become a better advocate and activist. It taught me that losing isn’t the end; it’s just the beginning. And it taught me the true meaning of my own mantra, “Keep going.”

I could have opted to stay home tonight—to hedge my bets and protect my heart by watching the election results roll in in the comfort of my own home. Instead, I’m traveling to Washington, DC, to be with many of the women I worked with this election cycle at Howard University in Washington, DC. I’ll be there hoping, once again, to celebrate the election of the first woman president. I’m anxious, but more than that, I’m inspired. I’m in awe of what Kamala Harris and her supporters accomplished in just 100 days. And I know that no matter what the election outcome is, we will keep going. And, eventually, we will win.

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