As a nation, we’ve been trumped. As democrats, we’ve been dumped. As LGBTQ folks, we’re stumped. “How did this happen?,” we’re wondering. It feels like a conspiracy. We’ve been betrayed. 

The surrealism is intense. A Trump presidency was alluded to 16 years ago on The Simpsons. Kurt Cobain may have joked about it in the 1990s. It sorta lends credence to an end-times prophecy, electing a man to power who’s a real estate mogul and reality TV personality rather than a true politician. It feels like it’s about gaudy bling rather than leadership, like all that tacky gold detailing in the Trump penthouse. It feels like the lonely aftermath of a cheap fuck you wish you’d avoided. Some folks are screaming rape, like they’ve been grabbed by the pussy. It’s potentially disastrous. Bigly. 

Donald Trump caught us with our pants down. After eight years of Obama, we’d relaxed. There’s nothing wrong with relaxing. We ought to be able to do more of it. But while we were relaxing, our fellow Americans were getting bent out of shape. They grew tired of being told how to think about immigrant populations, angry about being forced to tolerate ideologies so blatantly different from their own, and sick of being instructed on how to speak about people they simply don’t respect. This is proof that preaching cultural sensitivity doesn’t make the hate go away, just forces it underground. We may not hear it as loudly, but it’s still there. Growing. Festering. Waiting for someone to signal that it’s okay to say what’s really on your mind. Enter the Donald.

Trump saw an opportunity in that anger. That’s what businessmen do: They assess opportunities. He saw an annoyed populous that’d been instructed not to express their frustration because it reeks of intolerance. He pinpointed a large group of Americans who felt like their voices were being silenced and their values were being erased—ironically, pretty much the same things we LGBTQ folks have claimed in the past as people on the fringes of society. He preached to them about going against the grain, bypassing the “establishment,” and beating the “system.” These generalized terms mean different things to different people. In the minds of Trump’s target audience, lefties—with our high-falutin’ ideals about funding, civil rights, and brown people—had become synonymous with the establishment. Trump’s supporters have dreamt of taking the establishment back by silencing gays and folks of color. He made them believe he could help them do it. 

Now that he’s the president-elect, the gay community has sounded its emergency broadcast alarm. This is not a test. People are freaking out. And there’s plenty to be concerned about, no argument there. But maybe—just maybe—we’re overreacting. With Obama, we flipped the script on the mainstream. Now, we fear, we’re going to pay. But is fear running the show? It’s not meant as a nasty criticism. It’s perfectly natural. Fear of the unknown is a large part of what makes people intolerant. It’s what’s led, in part, to a Trump presidency. And it’s also spurring our reactions on the other side of the aisle. Fear is a very human common denominator. We’re all suffering with it. Or, at least, most of us are. But we shouldn’t be letting it call the shots. 

As I sat with friends over dinner the other night, a gay man I know and respect said, “I didn’t vote for him, but I don’t understand why everyone’s acting like it’s the end of the world.” It didn’t really click until I was alone, several hours later: This man hasn’t been feeling the fear and panic. He’s free of this burden we’ve all been carrying. Is it because he doesn’t spend a lot of time on social media? Is it ignorance, or is he seeing something we’re not? Either way, I found myself jealous of his detachment. Now I’m striving to adopt it. 

Trump’s game plan is ambitious. But in a very real way, regardless of congressional leanings, he’ll barely get a fraction of it accomplished. What’s more, businessmen don’t like having to wait. Trump is used to getting his way, and getting it quickly. He will soon discover how slowly things move in Washington. It will try his patience. This probably isn’t the gig he thought it would be, but we’ll need to let him find that out on his own. Who knows, maybe he’ll resign out of frustration.

All the scary stuff about Mike Pence (who Randy Rainbow correctly labeled a “silver haired daddy”—but I should clarify, wanting someone in orifice and in office are two very different things) is indeed scary. But it’s also mostly old news. Like, 1990s old news. Early 2000s old news. Which isn’t to say we shouldn’t be vigilant, but the way these “news stories” about repealing gay marriage and conversion therapy have been thrown around social media, you’d think it was fresh information. It’s not. Pence definitely has some issues with gays, or at least he used to. In that light, it’d be better if he wasn’t our VP. But in the big picture, we’re but a blip on the almighty presidential radar.

The far left is just as bad as the far right these days, and in many ways indie media is driving deplorable behavior on both sides. Inflammatory headlines designed to incite fear and anger have flooded everyone’s Facebook feed. I’m as much to blame as the next guy, feeding the frenzy up until quite recently. I’m upset about the election results, and I’m concerned about the country’s political state of affairs. But going forward, I refuse to let half-assed stories from special interest groups (that stretch the truth!) run me around. We all have lives to live. If I’m a “privileged cis-gender white” because I’m thinking this way, so be it. I refuse to internalize any shame about that.

As has been pointed out to me several times recently, rights that have been formally granted are very seldom taken away. There’s a tricky process involved in rescinding them. Trump is the president-elect, not an emperor. The possibilities aren’t endless. What’s more, it seems like maybe we’ve forgotten that we’re really only a small percentage of the population. Obama coddled us, but not every president will. The sooner we accept that, the better off we’ll be. If we expect to be coddled repeatedly, endlessly, we’re setting ourselves up. There’s an air of grandiosity to much of the thinking I’ve been exposed to lately. It’s a bit much. 

The real concern here, if I may be so bold, isn’t the Trump/Pence factor. And while appointing Steve Bannon as chief strategist is alarming, as are rumors of repealing Obamacare and Medicare, the feared drastic behavior of this motley crew isn’t nearly as worrisome as the very real hate crimes committed by some of the voters that made their election a reality. There are folks running around out there perpetuating a sense of lawlessness and anarchy in the name of Trump’s America, as if his victory gives them a green light to rape and pillage. It’s terrifying, unfortunate, and sad. But we must try and remember: Those behaviors belong to their perpetrators, not the politicians. I’m not excusing them, but if we blame the nightmare in Washington, we’re not seeing the reality of the problem for what it is: ill perception, bad judgment, and low moral standards from fellow countrymen.

At least for the moment, the aftermath of the election has fostered a greater sense of community. As gays, we used to do more together. We had neighborhoods, establishments, and publications. We had subculture. And while we haven’t outright lost all of those things, we’ve abandoned some of them in favor of our newfound everyman status. Marriage, adoption, the corporate ladder, and suburban living have distracted us. I can think of worse outcomes than feeling a greater sense of unity as we band together to protect the strides we’ve made. And while I do agree that we are “stronger together,” and need to partner with other minority groups in this scary time, I would caution: the LGBTQ umbrella isn’t intended to shelter anyone and everyone that’s ever felt disenfranchised. My saying so will probably make some people angry, and that’s fine. But as someone pointed out to me recently, there’s a reason why we’re instructed to secure our own oxygen masks before attempting to assist others when the plane is going down. 

 I’m not telling anyone to calm down and accept a Trump presidency. You do what you need to do to feel like your voice is being heard. But I’m going to calm down so I can suit up and show up for my life. This election cycle has left me feeling exhausted and empty. I’ve got nothing left. I can flap my arms and squawk till I’m hoarse and have no social media followers left, but it won’t change anything. I can, however, ‘be the change,’ by waiting and seeing what happens next before I flip out—what really happens, not what a far left blog tells me is going to happen, not what ill-informed LGBTQ allies tell me to fear will happen. Maybe next month the electoral college will do its job and veto this erroneous farce, although I doubt it. But in the meantime, don’t believe everything you read. And maybe, don’t read everything in your feed. It may feel out of reach at the moment, but we’re going to get through this.