Donald Trump Is My President


This post was written just under two weeks ago before the title was official. At the time, I felt sure and ready. As it became real today, I felt myself become worried and scared. I did not watch the inauguration, I tried to stay off social media because I couldn’t look at his face. In all honesty, today I am not as bold or as ready to call him my president. With that being said, this blog post was true when I wrote it and I hope it’ll once again be true in the very near future. I still want to share this with you because I believe it is important. After this, I’m going to go home and give my husband a big hug. Tomorrow he and I will join the thousands of others across the country and in Los Angeles who will march to show unity. You’re allowed to feel what you want to feel but don’t let the bad feelings last forever. Wipe your eyes, take a breath, and prepare yourself to fight for your rights. Take care of yourself and each other.

As always, thank you for letting me share my heart with you. Thank you for your time. Thank you.

– Ida


It used to be hard for me to write that. I was definitely a part of the Not My President party. That was until I read an Instagram caption that made me re-evaluate a statement that I considered to be bold and rebellious.

In an Instagram post linked to an ongoing series, The Fuckboy Files, Yahdon Israel challenged those who claim that he is Not My President:

Although I understand the intention behind #notmypresident, the denial is pernicious as hell. It’s linked to the same denial that laughed at this sun-burnt persimmon, thinking he wasn’t serious when he declared he was running for president. The same denial that disregarded his fuckery cause no one thought he was gonna win. It’s the same denial that underestimated the white people who voted for ol’ boy. It’s the same denial that refused to believe a country born of oppression could elect an oppressive leader. The same denial that thought the electoral college was really gonna upend the election results. On the more insidious side: all this denial is linked to the same naïveté that allowed too many people in this country to believe that one black family’s presence in the White House was to be weighed against with the everyday realities of black people. When black men, women and children were not only being killed by cops (which is bad enough) but those same cops were being acquitted, the same people tweeting that “not my president” shit was screaming “not all police.” When we said that state sanctioned violence was a crime, that same denial was linked to the retort, “What about black on black crime?” When anyone yells “Black Lives Matter,” that same #notmypresident fuckery made people hear, “black lives matter more,” and felt it a personal responsibility to “remind everyone” that “All Lives Matter.” And in writing this I’m realizing that the aforementioned denial and naïveté are all nuanced expressions of arrogance, and covert expressions of power and privilege. The ability to deny and disconnect speaks to a luxury many people swear they don’t have but actively participate in every day. This country always preaches of nothing changing for us until we decide to take responsibility for our lives and actions. It’s time for this country to practice its own sermon. In the words of Jimmy B: “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” This is what it means to “stay woke.” It’s the only way to prevent this fuckery from happening again. #notmypresident #getoveryourself #yesyourstoo #fuckboyfiles”

When I began to read his post, at first I was offended but his is an opinion that I valued in the past so I felt he deserved to be read all the way through. I finished and my mind was changed.

I can no longer deny that Donald Trump is the president of the United States. As a citizen of these United States, that makes him my president. Denying that he is the president, my president would mean denying everything that has happened during this last election. Denying that he is my president would mean denying that he rose in political popularity frightfully quickly and seriously. Denying that he is my president would mean looking past the hateful foundation that elected him and what that says about our country as a whole. Denying that he is my president would mean denying everything he has done and said.

I am asking us to not ignore the racism, misogyny, xenophobia, etc in this country and yet I am quick to denounce the position of power the mascot for bigotry now holds.

I cannot deny he is my president because doing so would be like denying everything I’ve worked so hard to overcome.

My regular readers know that I have been quite open on this blog about my family troubles and my path to mental health. I am in a far better place than I was five years ago. Heck, I’m better off than I was this time last year.

This progress couldn’t have happened if I didn’t acknowledge and give name to the demons that haunt me.

In order for me to find healing and fight to move forward, I had to recognize the root of the hurt.

The harmful root used to be more disarming before I admitted that it had an impact on me. The moment I was able to acknowledge this, I was able to breathe a little easier. I wasn’t hiding anymore; it was brought to light and the only thing left for me to do was to address it and move forward…in the light.

Now, that’s how I feel about president Trump. At least for me, in order to move forward and truly deal with what’s happening, I need to acknowledge him and what he managed to accomplish. Only then will I be able to move forward and fight.

Donald Trump is my president. He doesn’t have to be yours. I get it.

I don’t like it. I am not happy about it.

His presidency encapsulates so much of what is wrong with this country, this world.

I’ve let the title slip from my mouth. The boogeyman has been exposed. I am no longer afraid. Time to get to work and oppose the shit out of this presidency.

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