Dear Dad,
I’ve spent the last week contemplating how to express my thoughts to you, and I’m honestly still unsure of how to articulate everything. But I’ll do my best.
First off, thank you. Thank you for holding back from reaching out as the election results began to unfold. I appreciate that you didn’t boast when the outcome became clear. Your choice to think before you acted means a lot to me. I’m grateful you texted me about the passing of issue 44, focusing on something positive, and offered hopes for the future, like “maybe better candidates will emerge in four years” and “perhaps both parties will come together.” Most importantly, thank you for just being my dad.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt that connection with you.
I imagine navigating parenthood with grown children is complex, especially in light of recent events over the last few years. I know it can be tough when you don’t share the same views as your children.
I see you, Dad, and I want you to know I’ve been genuinely surprised by how you’ve managed the aftermath of the election. Despite that, I am also deeply disheartened by your vote. As the father of two daughters—two intelligent, capable women who you raised to recognize their own worth—how could you support a man who believes he can assault women without facing repercussions simply due to his wealth and fame? Is it because you understand he would likely disdain my sister’s and my bodies? How could you, as a father, support someone who devalues women based on their looks?
Even more concerning is your choice to back a man like Mike Pence, who has actively worked against the LGBT community—something you know affects your youngest child. How could you endorse candidates who threaten your own daughter’s right to love and marry whom she chooses? What does it say about your concern for her safety and well-being?
And what about your granddaughters? What future have you voted for them? They will grow up in a world where Muslims are forced to register, which sends a troubling message about freedom of religion. What kind of people will they become, knowing that hatred is now openly endorsed? I worry about the environment they’ll face, filled with bigotry and intolerance.
My concerns run deep. I’m frightened for my safety, my sister’s safety, and for friends who are people of color or religious minorities. I fear for families facing deportation due to harsh immigration policies and for those struggling to survive in a broken system. The man you endorsed, who glorifies war and threatens nuclear safety, poses a real danger to us all.
You might think you’ve secured a tax break by voting for Trump, but economists have warned that these benefits will come at the cost of many others. You’ve put your interests above those of your children.
I hope you’re proud of that choice.
Yet, I know you’re not a hateful person. I believe you wouldn’t intentionally harm anyone. However, your indifference toward bigotry makes you complicit. You have chosen to ignore the struggles of marginalized communities, and that’s what makes your decision so disheartening.
So what now? I understand you can’t change your vote, but you can still use your voice for good. You can advocate against legislation that undermines the rights of those you love. You can challenge your friends when they perpetuate hate. If your party continues down a path of oppression, you can walk away from it.
There’s a lot of work ahead for you to regain my respect. I know I may have said things that hurt you, and I understand if they changed how you see me. But I’m committed to engaging with people who think differently, including you. If you’re willing to listen, I have much to share.
Let’s both strive to move past partisan politics and work towards a better future—not just for you, but for all of us. I still believe in the strength of togetherness.
Love,
Megan