It was 7.30 pm when I put our 10-month old baby boy in his crib at home in our serene neighbourhood in East Seattle on Tuesday night. As he drifted off to sleep, I idly checked the New York times on my phone. The words jumped off my screen: Donald Trump had a 95 per cent chance of becoming the president.
I refreshed the page; it had to be a mistake. Just that morning he had less than a 15 per cent chance of winning, according to the very same website.
I ran down to my husband, and over the next few hours we watched in horror as a sea of red filled the American electoral map. I went to bed frightened, wondering how things were going to change in this great state of Washington that I now call home. We’ve build a life here, and I can’t imagine going back home and starting all over again.
The next morning our son was unusually cranky, and I messaged the Montessori teacher about it - “probably teething related, or election stress!” When I got into work, the mood was somber. One colleague came in with tears on her face, others were ashen faced and looked visibly shaken. It’s a revolution, someone lamented, but not the one any of us wanted. Our boss emailed to say to be kind to ourselves today, and get home before dark.
At lunch time I wandered down to Pike Place Market. It was unusually warm for November, and I took off my winter coat. Climate change was what I was thinking, but something Donald Trump believes is just a big hoax.
It was eerily quiet at the market, normally buzzing with locals and tourists. I looked for a safe haven, and went to my favorite lunch place. An elderly gentleman was standing in front of me in the line, wearing a dated brown suit and white collar yellowed at the edges. He was sporting a felt hat, and looked as if he came in a time machine from the 1950s.
He ordered a slice of pizza, and asked the server what a brownie is. As he paid the server, he seemed in jubilant form, telling her how great Donald Trump will be for the country. The server smiled and nodded, but tried to move the man along as the line was building and he was very slowly packing up his belongings.
How have I not noticed people like this man before? Did he suddenly come here from under some rock in the city? He doesn’t fit with my perception of Seattle.
One of the things I love about this city is that it is so liberal. We have a mayor who is gay, a police chief who’s a woman, and pot is legal. I feel like I have been living in a bubble, as clearly there is a percentage of people in this city that voted for Trump and are happy to send us back into the 50s. The west coast always felt progressive and safe, but now I’m not even sure about that anymore.
As I walked back to the office, I noticed a Democrat button smashed into the ground, covered with dirty brown autumn leaves. Just a few days ago, the future for the country and for Hillary Clinton seemed so bright, and it was hard to fathom how these hopes and dreams could be squashed in just one day.
Back in the office today, people have perked up, and the bright autumn sunshine streams through the office window. I want to hope this election won’t change my life too much here, but a dark shadow hangs over me now.
