Alright, y’all. Tuesday is around the corner, and my bubble gut anxiety, and manic moment is ready for this shit to over with. I’m dropping this straight from the journal, no edits, just real talk.
Let’s go back for a minute. My first election was 2004: George Bush vs. John Kerry. Puffy was out here pushing the "Vote or Die" campaign, telling us we had to get out there, and as a college student, I listened. There I was, a 19-year-old, Black girl from Memphis repping my HBCU, trying to follow along while two white men talked about issues that had zero to do with my life. And honestly? That election was way over my head. I did my part, but I left that booth feeling like they didn’t know the first thing about the issues that mattered to me.
Fast forward 20 years. Now I’m standing on the doorstep of 40, and life looks nothing like it did back then. We’ve got our “first” woman of color running for president, a fellow HBCU grad, no less. And who’s she up against? A reality TV star. Like, you cannot make this up. Donald Trump vs. Kamala Harris? This election feels like a bad episode of “Real Housewives,” and we’re getting closer to the reunion. But this reunion has a plot twist we all need to be ready for.
I’m exhausted. My core values? Faith, fellowship, and flowers—all the things that bring real joy. And we need every drop of that joy right now, because Lord knows, this election season has been rough.
Kamala’s campaign? It’s got shades of joy, I’ll give her that. But she’s played the game too, and we all know how Trump plays. ("Grab ’em by the pu$$y—" yeah, we remember.) And where are the real issues at? Where’s the relief for student debt, the help for people like me that’s always promised but rarely delivered? We barely talk about it, and if it does happen, folks keep it so hush-hush you wouldn’t even know change was happening.
This is the first election where I’m voting based on character and not policies. And as a Black woman? I do not trust Trump. Not one bit. This man has no morals, and that alone is enough to scare me. But if I’m being honest, I’m conflicted with Kamala too. Why do we automatically label anyone "of color" as Black? Look, she’s a woman of color, no question. But does she really represent “me,” a Black woman? That part is still unclear. And yet, I get it. She’s the better choice in a sea of bad options.
So, Tuesday night, I’m under the covers. Donald Trump is unpredictable, and that is not a good thing. His followers? Some of them have already shown what they’re willing to do (shoutout to January 6th). If he loses, I’m staying out of sight.
And for all my people, especially my men, who say Trump’s the guy—remember he was all for locking up five innocent Black boys. Oh, and that $1,200 he “gave” out during the pandemic? Please. You have made that back 100 times over in the past four years. Count his character, if nothing else.
So, I’m telling you—whether you like either of them or not, get out there and vote. There’s too much at stake to sit this one out. And until Friday, find your peace where you can, bloom in it, and let’s get through this week together.
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