Dear Dad,
I’ve spent over a week contemplating how best to express my thoughts to you, and I’m still unsure if I can articulate it all perfectly. But I’ll give it a shot.
First, I want to express my gratitude. Thank you for holding back from reaching out as the election results came in. Thank you for not gloating when we learned the outcome, and for taking a moment to consider how to approach me instead of reacting impulsively. Thank you for choosing to text me about the positive news regarding issue 44 and for your hopeful comments like “maybe in four years, better candidates will emerge” and “perhaps both parties will collaborate to remove him from office.” Your attempts to maintain a mature perspective mean a lot, but more than anything, I appreciate you just being my dad.
It’s been a while since you’ve simply been that for me. I imagine navigating the dynamics of having adult children must be challenging, especially with everything that has unfolded over the past few years, and I’m sure it’s even tougher when we don’t always share the same views.
I see you, Dad. I genuinely acknowledge how well you’ve dealt with the election results, and for that, I’m thankful.
However, I’m also deeply appalled by the choice you made on your ballot. You are the father of two daughters—two intelligent, confident women whom you raised to recognize their worth. How could you support a man who believes he can assault women without repercussions simply because he is wealthy and powerful? Is it because you know he would look down upon my sister and me for our body types? How could you endorse someone who thinks unattractive women are incapable of achieving the same success as those who fit his narrow standards?
More troubling is that you voted for this man despite his running mate, someone you know has actively targeted the LGBTQ+ community—your youngest daughter is part of that community. How could you choose a team that seeks to undermine her right to love and marry? How could you support candidates who view your daughter as an affront to their beliefs, who rally crowds that would harm her if given the chance?
What does it say about your care for the personal safety of two of your three children? What kind of parent disregards that?
And then there’s the matter of your granddaughters, the only grandchildren you have. What future have you chosen for them? What kind of world will they inherit? What distorted perceptions might they develop growing up in an environment where certain groups are marginalized? What does this mean for their understanding of freedom and acceptance?
These thoughts barely scratch the surface of my fears. I’m terrified for my safety, for my sister’s, and even more for my friends who are people of color or religious minorities. I’m worried for those who have adopted children from abroad, who now face the threat of deportation due to proposed immigration policies. I fear for the dedicated educators I know who struggle financially despite their hard work, who depend on social programs that may be jeopardized by the incoming administration’s economic strategies.
I’m afraid for all of us, Dad. You’ve chosen as commander-in-chief a man who openly expresses a love for war and believes in bombings as solutions. This man now holds the power of nuclear weapons, and it’s something we should all take seriously. The prospect of a nuclear disaster is frighteningly real under his leadership.
Even if we survive the explosions, his economic policies could lead to dire consequences for our livelihoods. Trump may promise tax breaks, which I know influenced your vote, but many economists believe these cuts are unsustainable and will harm the economy rather than help. Ultimately, you might find yourself without the benefits you hoped for, while his wealthiest friends profit.
You’ve traded your children’s future for a tax incentive you may never see. I hope you’re content with that decision.
What’s troubling is I know you don’t consider the issues that matter to others. You’ve mentioned before that you don’t vote for the rights of others, and while you have that right, it’s disheartening. You’ve prioritized your interests over those of your daughters, even when those interests conflict. It’s a choice that reflects a deep-seated privilege, one that you should reconsider.
You have let us down, Dad.
I realize you can’t change your vote now, but you can use your voice for positive change moving forward. You can stay informed on legislation that impacts your children and speak against it. You can call your representatives and tell them that policies based on hate don’t represent your views. If your party continues down a path of oppression, you can choose to leave. You have the power to send a message that decent people won’t stand for laws that harm others.
You have a long way to go to regain my respect.
I know I’ve said things in the wake of this election that might have hurt you. I’ve considered distancing myself, but I appreciate how you’ve handled our relationship since the election. I’m grateful that we haven’t allowed politics to ruin our bond.
In the aftermath of this election, I commit to not shutting conservatives out of my life. You need to confront these issues, and I genuinely want to help you see beyond your perspective. I have insights to share, and now is the time for you to listen.
Let’s both strive to set aside party lines and work to mend the rift this election has caused—not for your sake, but for ours. I still believe in the strength of unity.
Love,
Claire
In summary, this heartfelt letter addresses the complexities of familial relationships in the wake of a contentious election. It expresses gratitude while confronting difficult truths about political choices and their implications on personal relationships and societal values. It calls for open dialogue and mutual understanding, emphasizing that we can only move forward together.