Notes on election night

It was after midnight when we accepted that Donald Trump was going to be president of the United States. After an evening of cycling through desperate hope and nausea, there wasn’t much to say. Kyle and I finished our whiskey and I got up to leave.

I stepped outside, inhaled deeply. I wondered if I looked different now.

My conflicting emotions erupted with such perfect simultaneity that they canceled each other out and I was left simply feeling blank.

I walked into a bar and ordered a beer. It was Williamsburg, so people were generally well-dressed and unfazed. A white woman walked through the door and embraced her black friend, crying. After a few sips I left for the subway.

Inside the Bedford stop was a group of young black teens waiting for the train. One boy said that Trump’s election meant police would have even fewer qualms about gunning black people down in the streets. Another reckoned he should probably buy his own firearm.

One of the girls in the group of teens pointed and giggled at a white woman who appeared to be drunk, further down the subway platform. The woman was offended and yelled something loudly about how everything was not OK at the pointing girl. The girl continued to laugh, then the woman yelled louder, and then they got in each other’s faces. It’s unclear how it de-escalated, but the woman eventually stormed off.

Then a pair of white women struck up conversation with the group of teens, assuring them that protest movements would prevent things from getting too bad. The kids seem unconvinced. One of the white women then asked them if they liked to dance, and started miming step dance moves. They lost interest.

As the train arrived, they were approached once more. Another white woman came up and told one of the girls in the group that she liked her outfit. As the girl turned to get on the train, the woman reached out and stroked the girl’s hair. The girl recoiled, then stepped into the subway car.

When we got on the train, the boys danced for money. I handed them whatever cash I had in my wallet and got off at First Avenue. I wondered if they felt they looked different.

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