Donald Trump was sworn in as President of the United States when I was 13 years old. While I didn’t know much about politics, I knew that a man who said “grab 'em by the pussy” on air probably wasn’t the best representation of me and my country. Most importantly, I saw the pain in my mother's eyes watching Trump be sworn into office.
When I was 17, the pandemic was in full force, and the Black Lives Matter movement was at its height. Amid the chaos, I was becoming a person who avidly kept up with the news and posted the occasional political infographic to my Instagram story. The obscurities of Trump’s actions forced me out of my shell to engage with the world outside of my small town and become invested in the well-being of people outside my small circle.
Now, I am 21 years old, a senior political science and communications double major in college, and I am watching Trump come into office for a second term.
In November, election night was spent on my couch with my housemates in tears, trying to make sense of the news. We had been so hopeful, resulting in a harder confrontation with the reality of the election results. We stayed up all night talking, weary political science majors sorting through the implications of the incoming presidency for our economy, conflict overseas, and marginalized communities.
After only a few hours of sleep, I woke up the next morning and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. I didn’t want to go to school or to beach volleyball practice. I didn’t understand how the world could keep spinning when something so drastic happened in our country.
Nevertheless, I went to class and practice, stopped by some office hours, and by the time I got home, most of my dread and anxiety had been replaced with gratitude and self-reflection. I realized I was part of a community going through the same heartbreak, and in our grieving, we had one another’s hands to hold.
What better place to process the election results than with a close-knit community of people who study communication and politics?
Communications professor Natalie Nelson-Marsh shared my worry and told me the election results were a reminder to keep having hard conversations and to put time and care back into our local communities. Political science professor Anne Santiago reminded me that you can always intellectualize current events when you can’t deal with the emotions (I don’t know if this is healthy, but it got me through a few tough days). Communications professor Azeb Madebo drilled the importance of being a conscious media consumer for the sake of democracy. Professors Jeffrey Meiser and William Curtis talked my housemates through the different scenarios that could play out overseas, the information they relayed to me when we all got home.
Curled up on our couch after the longest 24 hours, our housemate conversation looked a lot different. There was still an undertone of sadness and grief but an acknowledgment that there was nowhere else we would rather be to experience a presidential election.
With the intensity of my emotions and the support of my community at UP, I have felt a fire and determination I haven’t felt since I was a kid watching my mom tear up at the television screen in 2016. It’s a strange but gratifying feeling to connect with your younger self, to be confronted with your growth yet reminded of what stays the same. The 13-year-old me was so compassionate, and the 17-year-old me was so tenacious, sometimes without a clear direction.
Now, a handful of classes away from holding a bachelor's in political science and communication, I’ve never been so motivated to go out into the world and put those attributions to use.
Taylor Helle is a news reporter for The Beacon. She can be reached at helle25@up.edu.
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