As a Black woman, watching the outcome of the recent election has stirred up a profound sense of disappointment. It’s not only the results themselves but the layers of deception and betrayal that came with them, especially from communities that claimed to stand together. Many Black women invested hope, energy, and belief into the idea that change was not only possible but imminent. We campaigned, raised awareness, and fought tirelessly, often believing that others – especially white women – who presented themselves as allies would stand in solidarity for a future where we all thrive. Yet, in the voting booth, it seems many chose otherwise. It’s a painful reminder that allyship can often feel like a performance for some, an act that fades away when it's time to make the sacrifices required for real change.
It’s particularly disheartening to feel the sting of betrayal from white women who aligned themselves with our causes in public yet voted to uphold systems that continue to oppress Black communities. Some seemed to go through the motions of allyship, signaling support but ultimately protecting their own privileges when the stakes were high. This behavior reinforces a sad but long-understood reality: for many, privilege can overshadow empathy, and solidarity can be conditional, only offered when there’s little to lose. This duplicity is not only disheartening but feels like an insult to the hard work, risks, and sacrifices Black women constantly make, both for ourselves and for society at large.
Adding to the pain is the recognition that misogyny and patriarchy remain pervasive across racial lines. Many Black men, who share our struggles and should understand the necessity of change, have chosen to side with those who uphold these damaging power structures. While our shared history of racial oppression should ideally create unity, the residue of generational traumas and learned behaviors has led some Black men to adopt views about power and gender that echo the very systems that oppress them. It’s as if a “slave mentality” has woven itself into the fabric of some men’s outlooks, pushing them to seek status and validation in a society that disrespects Blackness but rewards the semblance of dominance and control. This alignment with patriarchy at the expense of Black women weakens the broader fight for equity and justice.
The breakdown of voter demographics in this election reveals a hard truth about the realities of power and privilege in the so-called "land of the free." Despite the nation’s claims of progress and equality, the results underscore how America, as the self-proclaimed "leader of the free world," often falters in standing by these ideals when it matters most. The numbers tell a striking story: rather than rallying behind candidates with qualifications, vision, and policies that support a more inclusive, equitable future, large groups of voters—across racial, gender, and socioeconomic lines—chose instead to reinforce the status quo. It's a painful reminder that for many, the preservation of hierarchy, however flawed, still outweighs the potential for transformative change.
Equally disheartening is the high percentage of Latinx women who voted against their own interests and the interests of their families and communities. The choice to support policies that negatively affect them as mothers, sisters, and wives mirrors an ingrained loyalty to systems that, historically, have not reciprocated that loyalty. For some, it seems there is a desire to stay in the "good graces" of those in power rather than stand with their communities to demand better. This dynamic—a willingness to compromise collective well-being for the illusion of acceptance or protection—is, unfortunately, a reflection of how deeply-rooted structures can influence personal and political choices. It shows just how complex and pervasive the fear of losing favor or perceived status can be, even when that favor comes at a great cost.
Now back to our black men who face challenges unique to their gender and race, often disproportionately affected by systemic violence and economic inequities. Yet, who stands by them more faithfully than Black women? When Black men are mistreated by the system, whether it be police brutality, unjust incarceration, or racial discrimination, it is Black women who march, speak up, and advocate for them—often at great personal risk. And yet, when the tables turn, when Black women rise to lead, our accomplishments are frequently met with suspicion or outright resistance. What fear of Black women’s strength lingers in some hearts? Why does their rise feel like a threat rather than a shared victory? For too many, it’s as if the same social conditioning that shapes prejudice and doubt in the dominant society has seeped into our own community, creating barriers to our solidarity.
This resistance to Black women’s success is tied to a societal conditioning that values male dominance and control, and unfortunately, the scars of this conditioning run deep. For some, a Black woman’s ambition challenges a fragile sense of power in a world that routinely undermines Black men. But true strength lies not in keeping others down but in rising together. Black women hold Black men down not only in times of crisis but every day. When economic opportunities are scarce, Black women stand by them. When self-worth is questioned, they lift them up. They nurture and empower while being fiercely resilient, bearing the brunt of both racial and gendered adversity. And yet, in the face of all this, they still champion the cause of Black men, no matter how exhausting the fight may be.
So, to Black men, the question remains: who will stand with you when you are economically disadvantaged, beaten down, and in need of someone who values your worth beyond what society says you’re worth? Black women have proven time and again that they will, no matter the cost. But we need to ask: who will stand with Black women? True solidarity means not only protecting one another but celebrating each other’s victories and trusting each other’s potential. As Black women continue to rise, they do so not just for themselves but for their communities, for the people who need them most, and for the promise of a stronger, more unified future. It’s time for everyone to embrace that strength rather than fear it, for it is the same strength that uplifts us all.
As we move forward, we now face the reality of what the next four years may bring. The consequences of this choice are not just abstract political implications—they’re likely to show up in very tangible, everyday ways. With this outcome, we must brace ourselves for the potential rise in domestic terrorism, policies that undermine our liberties, and a deepening of divisions across communities. For those who could have chosen differently but didn’t, remember this: when turmoil reaches your doorstep, when the very freedoms you thought would remain untouched are compromised, know that there was an opportunity to choose a different path.
This outcome is more than a political shift; it is a turning point with real repercussions for our safety, our rights, and our futures. The foundations of democracy and equality that many have fought for, bled for, and even died for are not immune to erosion. And for those who cast their votes out of fear, convenience, or a misguided sense of loyalty, remember that this moment will carry a cost—a cost that may be measured in hardships that could have been prevented, in freedoms that might be lost. When that reality sets in, it’s important to recognize that you had the chance to stand up for something better, to reject fear and division, and to choose a path of genuine solidarity and justice.
The power of choice is something not everyone has. But for those who did, the decisions made in this election will echo through lives and communities. It’s a painful truth that these choices may lead to struggles and sacrifices, especially for those who already carry the weight of discrimination and inequality. When these trials arrive, remember: there was a choice. There was a chance to stand together, to uplift leaders who genuinely fight for all of us, and to protect a vision of unity and equity. Now, as we face what may come, the hope is that more will learn from this and find the strength to choose differently in the future. For now, it’s time to prepare, to organize, and to remember that resilience has always been our greatest strength.
Sincerely,
A disappointed, disheartened, but still standing strong Black woman
