An Open Letter to Survivors in the Aftermath of the Election
We are not ok.
This letter is to Survivors. It is open to others, but only those who genuinely desire to understand. Who are ready to have some of their assumptions challenged. Who are open to being part of the solution. If you want to gloat, argue, debate policy or try to prove a point about the lesser of two evils, this letter is not for you.
This is a letter to abuse survivors from an abuse survivor. I see you. There are so many of us out here. And we are not ok.
(photo credit: Dr. Jemar Tisby1)
“As a woman and sexual abuse survivor, I feel marginalized and re-victimized. It’s an awful feeling to have a rapist in the White House.”
“As an Asian American [and abuse survivor], when I hear phrases like ‘Make America Great Again,’ I have to ask, ‘Whose America was great?’ The one that forbade Asians to immigrate here? That incarcerated hundreds of thousands of its own citizens during wartime? The one that didn’t allow for interracial marriage like mine until the late 60s?”*
“As a woman of color and a proud member of the AAPI community, I fear for this second Trump administration. The allowed racist language from one of the highest positions of power permits the normalizing of this grotesque behavior and dehumanizes people. This lack of psychological safety creates anxiety and trauma.”**
“As a trauma therapist, I recognize the impact that another Trump presidency will have on the most vulnerable people in this country and around the world. His first presidency is now considered a period of collective and complex trauma in therapy circles. As a fat bodied, chronically ill woman and sexual assault survivor, I cannot listen to his voice. It triggers some of my worst memories. So now I am challenged with not only caring for myself, but also caring for others in real time as we all experience this difficult terrain. We have to engage in collective healing if any of us are going to make it through this.”
“It feels that all these Christians that support Trump would also have supported my abuser. No matter what my logical brain can say to the contrary, my body feels that it’s no longer just a particular small community that supported my abuser and excommunicated me. But now, it is as if half of my nation, and an overwhelming majority of Christians would also have rationalized standing with my abuser.”
All of these words are direct quotes from people close to me in response to the election results earlier this week.
I know they’re not the only ones who feel this way. Recently, I’ve heard multiple abuse survivors say variations of the same thing:
“I’m not okay. This is re-traumatizing.”
If this is you, dear Survivor, I want to say to you: your feelings are valid.
You are a victim of narcissistic abuse on a national scale. As a trauma therapist who works with narcissistic abuse, I believe that the system that put Donald J. Trump in power is large-scale narcissistic system because not only is there a powerful abuser at the top, but also there are millions of enablers who looked the other way when racism, rape, misogyny, cover-ups and retaliatory behavior are just a few of the egregious things about the man who just won the 2024 election.
Where there is:
abuse
denial or minimization of the abuse
the abuser winning people to his (or her) side
those people turning against the victim
—it’s a good sign that you may be looking at a narcissistic system. In a blog series published earlier this year (Part 1 and Part 2), I explored narcissistic systems in more detail, as well as the various roles within those types of systems.
This week, I can’t help but see stark similarities on a national level.
Millions of people are being re-traumatized when it’s no longer just their church or family or colleagues but their nation that is telling them:
“Your suffering doesn’t matter to me because it doesn’t affect me.”
Survivors who are in pain right now include all ages. Many are committed Christians. Some are White, while many are People of Color. Their political policy leanings range from left to right, and everywhere in between. But all of them carry in their bodies heaviness, dread, fear, anger, and grief over a nation that would elect a rapist2 and convicted felon3 to its highest office.
I want to note: as a woman and an abuse survivor, I’ve been deeply impacted by this week’s events. But I can speak only as a White woman. Black and Indigenous people (plus other marginalized populations) have known oppression and abuse in this nation for centuries. They have been bravely speaking out for years. I don’t claim to speak for them because they have the right to speak for themselves, and they have already been speaking with courage and integrity. I’ll list some authors and resources below.
Historian and author Jemar Tisby wrote4:
If you aren’t tired right now, then you haven’t been in the struggle.
If you aren’t concerned right now, then you don’t know how much worse it can get.
If you aren’t preparing right now, then you don’t know how chaotic it’s about to become.
And boy are we tired.
Many who are part of the populations Trump has directly targeted (immigrants, disabled people, LGBTQIA+ people, Black, Hispanic, Asian, indigenous and other people of color, sexual abuse/assault survivors, and women)5 are experiencing fear, helplessness, terror and confusion. These are the ingredients of trauma.
It’s because our bodies remember. We have been here before.
This experience isn’t new to us. In fact, it’s hauntingly familiar. For many, such as Black and Indigenous people and other BIPOC, as well as the LGBTQIA+ population, the familiarity spans centuries and generations. It is in their history, their bones, intergenerationally, even in the land itself.
But all Survivors have been harmed by someone with power, and many of us were doubly traumatized when those around us (whether family, the community, coworkers or leaders) dismissed our pain, minimized the harm done to us or denied it altogether, and protected the perpetrator(s). Depending on whether our original abuse(s) were suffered in narcissistic systems, we may have also suffered coercive control, gaslighting, obfuscation of facts, slander, defamation, manipulation, and betrayal from our communities.
The parallels in this week’s election should be obvious: a person with power who lacks the ability to self-reflect, avoids personal accountability, delights in violating the most basic rights of others, and rewards those who flatter him. And people around him who not only permit his bad behavior, but celebrate it and endorse his presidency.
For those of us who have been part of a religious community, religious spaces and people may no longer feel safe.
And it’s no wonder; when about 80%6 of American evangelicals voted for a man who has at least 28 public accusations of sexual misconduct,7 including being found liable for rape and defamation when the victim accused him. Trump, whose behavior is so familiar to those of us who have been harmed by abusers (especially abusive men).
It would be understandable if for Survivors, it feels as if over half of the nation, and an overwhelming majority of white evangelicals, just communicated to us what every enabler in an abusive narcissistic system says through their actions (and sometimes words):
“Your suffering doesn’t matter to me.”
“He’s not that bad. The whole thing was blown out of proportion. There are always two sides to a story.”
“Maybe he’s made mistakes. No one’s perfect. Just look at all the good he’s done in this [community/church/country].”
“He never treated me that way, so I can continue to support him.”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
So to you, Survivor, I want to say: your body—your good, wise body that carries the wisdom of the Creator and the stories of your ancestors—is a body whose number one job is to keep you safe.
And this week if your body is signaling “DANGER,” it’s worth believing. It’s worth paying attention to. Your body is trying to say something that deserves to be heard. By you and the rest of us.
For some of you, your body’s survival responses are showing up in grief and confusion. For others, rage. For some there is hopelessness and powerlessness and fear. For some, a heaviness that threatens to close in on your very reasons for keeping hope alive. For many of us, it is all of these and more. Moment to moment, day to day. And I suspect all of us are tired.
Whether your body’s response to this overwhelming week is to mobilize (anger, rage, tension, avoidance, feeling jittery, keeping busy) or to immobilize (shutting down, numbness, collapse, depression), there is nothing wrong with you. No matter where you are on your healing journey (whether you’ve done a lot of work or are just beginning), if this feels tough, it is because it is tough. Your pain is valid. Your anger is valid. Your grief is valid. Your shock is valid. Your numbness is valid. Also, you are right: it’s not safe. Your body is letting you know “something’s off here.”
You are allowed to feel everything you’re feeling.
This is worth emphasizing: there is immense wisdom in the dysregulation you’ve felt. The fear, anger, rage or grief are appropriate and healthy responses to violence and injustice. It won’t just go away. You will wrestle and agonize and scream and cry and despair and wonder if you have lost your mind. And I believe that if God is who he says he is, then he is flaming mad about this too.
On a personal note: the day of the election I happened to discover that my narcissistic abuser is now planting his own church. In other words, yet another community is declaring that an abusive man is fit to lead.
It shouldn’t have surprised me when I found myself uncommonly exhausted and at times, my body extra mobilized (lots of tossing and turning into the wee morning hours). I’ve needed so much more sleep this week than normal, even for me, who, because I suffer from chronic fatigue, typically need a lot.
Surviving is exhausting.
Having to be on guard is exhausting.
Not feeling safe is exhausting.
The day after the election, Dr. Jemar Tisby wrote:
“Let’s not move immediately on to the next fight-and-resist phase. Let’s feel first. The exhaustion. The grief. The worry. The anger. Even the despair. These feelings need not last forever, but neither should they be suppressed or ignored. Take the time you need to process… we need the healthiest you possible.8”
“We need the healthiest you possible.”
We need the healthiest you possible. It’s worth pausing and asking, “how do we get there?”
In the aftermath of the election, Dr. Tisby has written multiple times about the importance of self-care (and I credit him with many of the ideas I present here). He has argued that we cannot “give [Trump] another victory by not taking care of ourselves.”9 The fight against injustice is a good fight. It’s arguably the most important fight there is. And part of that fight is to honor our own pain and do what we can to flourish so that we have the energy and hope to continue the other forms of fighting: activism, whistle-blowing, writing, learning, standing up, speaking truth, dissenting, seeking justice.
According to author and advocate Tricia Hersey, “Resting is part of the strategic plans for people who are organizers and activists, because [resting] is generative.10”
So, Survivor, take the time to care for your body, and if you have the capacity, the bodies of others around you. Let rest and self-care be part of the fight. I want to be clear that these concepts are not original to me. They come from Tricia Hersey’s book, “Rest is Resistance.”11
I’m not saying we have to be ok right now. It is absolutely ok not to be ok. But I am saying that being embodied, honoring the dignity of our bodies with all that they have suffered and all that they are suffering now is resistance against a system where every act of abuse that has told you, “Your body is something to be used, and we don’t care how it impacts you.” We fight against dehumanization and assaults on bodies by honoring what it means to be fully human—that is, that we are bodies—beautiful, wise, connected, and that our bodies belong to us and no one else.12
If you don’t know where to start, take it slow. Take a nap. Drink water. Wrap yourself up in a cozy blanket. Hold a warm drink in your hand. Change your clothes. Dance. Step outside and put your toes in the earth. If it feels safe to do so, allow a wave of grief/pain/distress flow through you. Text someone you love. Hug a friend/pet/pillow. Start trauma counseling (I offer trauma intensives, and will list multiple additional resources below). Join a support group for abuse survivors (I’ll be starting one soon, so please subscribe to be the first to hear and sign up).
There are additional resources I’ll list below if you don’t have a support system or would like more.
There is no one right way to be a Survivor. There is no deadline for healing. There is no timeline for grief. Take all the time you need. You matter. Your pain matters. You’re allowed to feel everything you feel.
Let others of us help carry the load when you’re too exhausted or overwhelmed or bitter or shut down to carry anything.
I’m so glad you’re here. I’d love to hear how you’re feeling in the aftermath of the election, or any feedback to this post. Leave a comment below.
The lists of resources below come from my friend and colleague, Lindsey Horvatich, who is a trauma therapist, chronically ill woman, and sexual abuse survivor. Her full documents for post-election resources can found here.
For White people who want to learn more:
Watch the Deconstructing Karen documentary. Read Rachel Cargle, Octavia Butler, adrienne marie brown,
Latasha Morrison, Sandra Van Opstal, Joy Harjo, bell hooks, Amanda Gorman, Tricia Hersey, Layla Saad, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Stephanie Foo, Viet Thanh Nguyen, Kai Cheng Thom, Virgie Tovar, Resmaa Menakem, Tamela Gordon, and Jennifer Mullan then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. If you don’t know where to start, just ask.
Resources for Support:
The Embody Lab Therapist Directory
Asian Mental Health Collective
All of the organizations accept donations as well, and they are going to need our help to sustain others. Please consider donating financial resources if you are able to do so.
I’m so grateful for the survivors who allowed me to share their experience through their own words. Here are the full quotes excerpted from the beginning of this post :
*As an Asian American, I don’t know how I feel. I had to be reminded by my (white) wife how much anti-Asian hate and rhetoric there was the first time, especially around the “China virus.” They’re memories and feelings I’ve since repressed and tried to forget, all while engaging in “Very Asian” spaces that grew out of that time.
When I hear phrases like “Make America Great Again,” I have to ask whose America was great? The one that forbade Asians to immigrate here? That incarcerated hundreds of thousands of its own citizens during wartime? The one didn’t allow for interracial marriages like mine until the late 60s?
The more I hear, the more of the longing I see becoming clear to return to an America built by white men (and those clamoring for proximity to them for their own promotion and self-preservation) who want nothing more than power and control over those they deem as less than. Not equality, not a pursuit of liberty and justice for all, not a promoting of the general welfare or declaration that all men are indeed created equal and endowed with certain unalienable rights.
**As a woman of color, a proud member of the AAPI community and a Licensed Professional Counselor in private practice, I have my own personal experience and that of my clients of color of the tremendous negative impact from the first Trump Administration. I fear for this second. The allowed racist language from one of the highest positions of power permits the normalizing of this grotesque behavior that others and dehumanizes people. This lack of psychological safety creates anxiety and trauma. He is a danger to us all and it is our job to figure out how to survive the next 4 years.
Here is a list of hundreds of Trump quotes about people, places and things Trump has insulted on Twitter alone:https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2016/01/28/upshot/donald-trump-twitter-insults.html
One of multiple sources citing Trump’s 28 accusations of sexual misconduct
A topic I allude to but do not refer to explicitly here is the work of decolonization in the mental health field. I am currently reading “Decolonizing Therapy” by Jennifer Mullan and highly recommend it for anyone, especially White people in the mental health field.
I, once again, thought that I was the only one.
Thank you. I needed this.