A Letter to the Electors

By Mandy Nachampassack

First, I was shocked. I cried. I was angry. I called my mother to ask her if this was real, despite the fact that in my late twenties calling Mommy for reassurance is fairly juvenile. Then, I wrote this letter-

To You, an elector in whom I am now placing all of my faith,

They say that to vote against the popular vote of your state (however razor thin or unrepresentative of the state’s entire population) would make you faithless. I say that in you, in this very special job you’ve been given to be the conscience of your people, I am now putting all of my faith. Earlier this week I had enough faith in our country to go around. I was spilling with it. And why shouldn’t I be? My husband and I have two beautiful children who we’re raising in a house we own in a neighborhood that has access to all sorts of amenities and is safe. We’re college educated and work in our chosen fields. However, today I find that the faith I have left, not destroyed by Trump’s winning after his hate filled and terrorizing campaign, is a mere drop. I’m placing that last little bit in you, that you would never subject my children, my aging parents, and our American legacy to a Trump presidency. You see I am affronted on every side of the argument. My father immigrated here when he was of age but really still far too young to be trying to make his way in a foreign country sans parents to guide him. The man he is, I couldn’t be prouder. At the basic level he is a high school and college referee, someone who takes making fair decisions seriously. He’s been awarded for his level head even when games get chippy. Though I’ve heard the many calls of, “Go back to China!” from the sidelines, and I know he has too, he’s never responded. He’s always proudly walked off the field. It is I who have worried if he’ll get home safely, I who have shouted down ignorant ranters from the bleachers because, on God’s green earth, I will never let someone make my father feel uncomfortable in his own skin. And by the way, we’re not Chinese. On a more cerebral level my father, the man who came here not speaking English but graduated from high school on time and got a scholarship to college, translates for our local judicial system. You see, he speaks three languages and allows the court system to call on him as needed to use them. He goes above and beyond in so, so many ways. But, though my father is a first generation American, my mom’s family can trace their roots from England in the 1700s and a well known First Lady of a newly independent United States. I’m proud of both of those beautiful heritages. I am a woman, a mother of two women I know will be powerhouses one day. So when Trump stated that he, “grab(bed) them by the pussy,” I was roaring mad. He is the mascot for rape culture, an issue America has been fighting since our founding. Just this last year we were disgusted by the political power of one judge on the Stanford rape case. It seems to me Donald Trump is a progenitor of the environment in which things like that are allowed to happen. To be frank, I, and I’m assuming you, would be appalled to have our first seated president who would be facing charges of fraud (for Trump University), a maybe not pretend audit that he hasclaimed for some time, and who has admitted to using illegal workers despite the fact that he finds them despicable. An opportunist of the lowest degree. In writing to you I am peacefully protesting. I am also begging out of the sheer unshakable terror that has gripped me since election night- fear for my father that Trump’s presidency will only embolden those who already try to shame him, fear for a friend that has been a wonderful, active US born citizen in her beautiful hijab, fear that Russia’s ties to Trump will only lead to more innocent lives being ruined, that when you go to cast your electoral vote you name anyone, anyone but him.