By Maya Bourne
Sitting at my desk, legs curled up to my chest, I anxiously watch my computer screen as little red blips appear like a disease, spreading to every corner of the pixelated borders. I click on one particular state, zooming in for a more detailed view; Pennsylvania grows, a sea of red broken up by little blue invaders. Waiting with bated breath, I constantly refresh the page with trembling hands, wishing in vain for a miracle. My prayers are ignored as the red bar illustrating Donald Trump’s electoral votes shoots from 248 to 267. Shocked, my mind fights to stay in denial. I shake my head, barely believing my eyes as the realization sets in; a convicted felon has just beaten an educated woman for the presidency.
Though the possibility of Trump regaining office had weighed heavy on my mind for months, I dared to entertain the idea of a better country where women’s voices are heard and we have the right to make choices about our own bodies. The knowledge that millions of Americans hold so much hatred for fellow humans in their hearts left me bereft, so I chose to be optimistic. As the votes for Trump mounted higher throughout the night, the same questions constantly came to mind: “How do so many people not realize that we matter? Why don’t they care?” That specific question crossed my mind more times than I can count. “Why don’t they care?” To me, the topics of women’s rights and freedoms have always been at the forefront, so it baffles me that others have such apathy for it. Here was a woman who promised to give other women the right to make their own reproductive decisions and live freely in our society. It made no sense that a man who has openly bragged about assaulting women and sexualized 10-year-old girls could gain just one person’s vote, let alone 73 million of them. At that point, I finally realized: they simply don’t care. People who vote for Trump do so because they don’t think any of his policies or worldviews affect them. White, cisgender, Christian, rich, privileged men have nothing to worry about. Why should they care if a woman can no longer get the abortion she needs to survive? Though a survey shows that 46% of transgender youth seriously considered suicide in 2024, why should a cisgender man care if a trans kid can no longer get the gender-affirming care they need to make them feel comfortable in their skin? It doesn’t affect him.
Apathy is a privilege many are denied. The ability to care so little about a situation that impacts tens of millions of lives is given to people few and far between. As someone living in a majority-blue state, I acknowledge the privilege that I will almost certainly have access to abortion and am surrounded by a supportive community. The tears falling on my pillow are not all for me; they are for the girls living in red states, or the minorities in communities, overlooked by others. This privilege becomes problematic, however, when people look only to accomplish their needs and pay no attention to who they step on in the process. What these people don’t realize is that sometimes, the people they step on live right down the street.
The morning after the election, I arrived at school in a daze, unable to focus on any of my schoolwork or the conversations my friends tried to carry. All I could see was the non-existent tear tracks on my friends’ cheeks and the happy, carefree expressions on passing faces.
“Don’t you care?” I wanted to scream at my friend as she shrugged. She said she didn’t care who won, that she’s too young to be worried about politics. “Don’t you know that you’re affected too? That your rights are being stripped away as we speak?” But no, of course not. She lives a completely separate life from me. She has the privilege that holds both a blessing and a curse. Sure, she may complain in a few years about the rising prices of groceries, but she will never lay in bed at night wondering if she will ever be allowed to marry the person she loves. Men will never sprint from the store to their car in the parking lot or walk, keys lodged between their fingers, afraid someone has chosen that night to take their anger out on someone else. The funny thing is that privileged people do care a lot about politics and policies, but only when those policies affect them and their livelihood. A man may not care about abortion rights for women, but once he learns that he can no longer have unprotected sex, the mandate is unacceptable.
The privilege of safe and stable rights can be a wonderful thing, though most people choose to abuse it. When women talk, they are interrupted or ignored; when men talk, other voices grow silent, bodies still, minds focused. Accepting privilege and using it to do good makes all the difference. Living in a blue state gives everyone a greater measure of privilege. We will probably always have access to abortion, birth control, and other rights that others don’t. Instead of living in a bubble of safety, unaware or indifferent to others’ struggles, use your privilege to uplift them. Speak out against injustices that others face when they can’t speak out for themselves. Look outside your bubble at the people struggling. Think of what you can do to help them instead thinking of how great your life is. The only real change comes when everyone joins together to accomplish one goal, and you can be one of them.