I’m no political commentator and I can’t claim to know the ins and outs of every campaign promise of Clinton and Trump but when I was awake with Gabe at two thirty this morning and saw that Trump was leading in the American presidential election I had a sinking feeling that we were going to see a result that was unthinkable a few months ago.
At two thirty though, as I kissed my baby and gently put him in his cot, there was still hope. Still a chance that the people of America would do the right thing. But I woke this morning to the news that Donald Trump is to become the next president of the United States. I would laugh at the absurdity of it if it wasn’t such an horrific prospect.
And just like in the last two general elections, and the Brexit referendum here in the UK it is predominantly the white, over 45s who are making choices which, when it comes down to it, probably won’t even affect them that much. But they will affect me, and they will affect my children.
This morning I am sad. I am sad for the world my children have to grow up in. But then I grew up when Thatcher was in power, my parents worked hard to keep us happy and fed, with a roof over our heads through two recessions. It is possible to survive these things.
So tonight I will hold my boys a little closer and I will continue to teach them to be kind, to be thoughtful, to try their best and to believe that there are good people in the world, even if they don’t always win elections.
And I will hold out the hope that sooner rather than later it turns out that not only is Donald Trump a liar, a racist, a bigot, a sexist and who knows what else, but that he’s also done something illegal somewhere along the line (because seriously, he must have right?) and maybe, just maybe, he won’t become the next president of the USA after all.