my toxic trait is that i believed in humanity
what an honor it is to be heartbroken with you.
I know you haven’t heard from me since the election, but it’s not because you weren’t on my mind. After being on the road for the last two months, Tuesday’s results broke me—physically and emotionally. And the only thing that would feel worse than what I was feeling was the thought of sending something that might make you feel even heavier.
I’ve started and deleted this piece more times than I can count, so now I’m just going to keep typing, hit send, and hope it brings a sliver of light in what feels like a dark week in our nation’s history. Airplane Mode has always been about finding clarity in the chaos, about grounding us in moments that feel overwhelming. My mission here is to help us process, reflect, and regroup—without losing ourselves in the noise. What we have done with this community is even more important than it’s ever been.
Your body wasn’t built to endure the weight of three Trump elections, let alone a second Trump term. But while I can’t change Tuesday’s results, I believe we can find a way forward that strengthens us, rather than breaks us. And while I can’t change how millions of people voted, I believe that we can come out of this better than how we were. Here are six truths I want you to feel instead of despair.
1.You should feel proud.
One reason I hesitated to reach out earlier is that, honestly, I felt embarrassed. As one of the founders of Hotties for Harris, I fully believed that a qualified, competent woman of color could win—and I decked myself out in merch and hope, believing it was possible. How could I have been so foolish to feel optimistic when we’ve been let down so many times? But then it hit me: there’s nothing embarrassing about believing in the best of this country and our world and the people who fill it. Of course it’s easier to be cynical. Easier to be indifferent. But given the choice, I’d pick compassion over callousness every time. Empathy may take more energy, but I’d rather feel dumb than numb.
If hoping for a better world is embarrassing, then let me cringe in peace. I’d rather lose while standing for something, than win being on the side of hate.
You should feel proud that you stood on the right side of history, even if that side wasn’t successful. We may have lost this round, but we’re playing a much bigger game. When the heroes lose halfway through the movie it doesn’t mean they’re defeated—it just means the story isn’t over yet.
2.It’s not your fault.
This one is for everyone, but especially my OCD girlies: this isn’t your fault. The morning after the election, I woke up in dread realizing that I had forgotten to wear my special Kamala socks. I caught myself thinking, If I’d just worn them, maybe things would have been different. But here’s the truth—for me, for you, for anyone struggling right now: there is nothing you or I could have done on our own to prevent this outcome. You didn’t cause this, and you alone can’t fix it. You did everything you could.
But it’s not just an internal monologue problem, there’s a weird thing happening online right now, which is that the pundits seem focussed on why a decent woman lost rather than why a criminal won. People are so committed to the bit, that they are still picking apart that one time she could have answered that one question about Biden a little better two months ago as the reason she lost. Meanwhile, her opponent is threatening to turn the military against the people who didn’t vote for him. Why would progressives be the ones doing soul-searching when the other team elected a rapist wannabe dictator? Instead of obsessing over why too few supported a woman, shouldn’t we be more focused on why so many stood behind a candidate who promised to use the military against them? This isn’t our failure to dissect. If you voted for the fascist, you should be thinking about what got you there. If you didn’t, you’re doing better than most!
Now this isn’t to say that progressives don’t need to improve their approach—far from it. Could the Democratic Party have done better messaging on the economy, taken a firm stand against the atrocities in Palestine, and reached out to male voters more effectively? Absolutely. Should they have taken the urgent concerns of the working class more seriously? Always—this has been an ongoing issue for decades. There’s so much to learn and adapt, and I’ll be spending the next few years focused on this. But we can’t let the fact that a fascist won push us to reshape our values to mirror his. America was in a rough spot, and she ran back to her toxic ex. That doesn’t mean we need to become more like him to win her back.
3.Consider the fact that maybe it’s not that deep.
America elected a racist pathological liar who gives fake blow jobs to mics and wants to turn the military on its own citizens. It’s beyond absurd, and I know it feels like we need to analyze this endlessly. But maybe, just maybe, it’s that deep. Journalists love dissecting these results to find intricate explanations—and yes, those takes make for interesting (and profitable) content. But here’s my take: maybe the worst decision ever made in the history of this country was just because the price of eggs was too high, and that people are too busy working four jobs and driving an uber on the side, to realize that they’re not gonna be cheaper under Trump.
Maybe it’s not that women and Latinos are betraying themselves, but that poverty and desperation often push people toward whoever makes the loudest promises—even when it’s someone who doesn’t have their best interests at heart. Right now, 45% of voters say they’re worse off financially than they were four years ago, marking a record high. These voters weren’t misled by media narratives; they’re responding to their everyday reality: skyrocketing costs for groceries, housing, childcare, and healthcare. COVID’s impact has left governments weakened worldwide, and many leaders who weathered the pandemic have paid the political price.
Let’s be honest: since the pandemic, many of us have made strange decisions, driven by isolation, fear, or sheer exhaustion. When people are anxious, cash-strapped, and uncertain about the future, their choices can seem irrational from the outside. So maybe these millions of voters aren’t raging sexist homophobes—they’re just regular people who want to afford eggs, believe their government should have done more, and feel let down that Kamala Harris didn’t do more about it.
This doesn’t excuse the accountability that Trump voters should face or the serious consequences of their choice, but assigning motives can sometimes lead us astray. In my conversations with people who intended to vote for Trump, their primary unifying trait wasn’t racism—it was a lack of information. Many were immigrant uber drivers, young Black men at bars, people whose primary concerns were economic. For most, the appeal of Trump was tied to his image as a businessman. What surprised me was how quickly some of them reconsidered when given more context—sometimes in just a few minutes during an uber ride. With better access to accurate information, many were open to rethinking their choices.
4.You can’t force people to cross the bridge—but you can build it knowing one day they’ll find their way across.
The biggest difference between 2016 and 2024 is that this time, there’s no technicality. In 2016, we could point to the electoral college and say most Americans didn’t want Trump. But now, he won the popular vote and every swing state. He even made gains with nearly every demographic except Black women—the group that tirelessly fights for a country that often fails to fight for them. This time, there’s no denying: this is the will of the people (funny that trump isn’t denying it this time so glad we can stop talking about voter fraud forever now).
And while it’s shocking that a majority of people voted or Trump, I’m not discouraged by it. I’m familiar with working in opposition; as a feminist who writes for men, I’m used to facing skepticism and distrust. Every day, I advocate for people who don’t see the value in what I’m fighting for. But navigating hostility and resistance has only strengthened my resolve. And it makes it that much more satisfying when they finally cross over.
5.Fighting for equality means fighting for those who don’t yet see how it lifts them too.
Instead of giving Trump the division he craves to entrench his power, we need to lean into the opposite impulse. He wants us to meet his hate with more hate—but we have to resist that urge. We cannot let their view of the world corrupt ours.
So, my message to the Trump voter is simple: even if you voted against my rights, I will keep fighting for yours. I will keep fighting for the pro-life girl in Texas who was against abortion until she needed one. I’ll stand up for my conservative neighbor who has no idea that one day, after a devastating miscarriage, she’ll face the same choice she once judged. I’ll keep fighting for the man who despises Obamacare, never imagining he’ll need it when the doctor looks him in the eye and says it’s stage four. I’ll keep fighting for gun safety, even for parents who won’t see school shootings as a problem—until they lose their own son to one. I’ll keep fighting for climate action for the farmer who doesn’t yet know his crops will fail in a drought. I’ll keep fighting against Trump’s tariff increases for the worker who doesn’t realize he’ll be the one paying for them.
No matter who you voted for, I will keep fighting for you too.
Because believing in a better future means fighting for it—even for those who can’t yet see it. You can’t make people cross a bridge before they’re ready, but you can build it, trusting that someday, they’ll find their way across.
6.Let your heart be big enough to hold both grief and hope.
The last thing I want to say to you is that you’re sad inside, it’s because you’re good inside. The ache you feel right now—the disappointment and heaviness—reminds you that you’re alive, that you care deeply, that you believe in something greater than yourself. How fortunate it is to care too much, to feel the weight of wanting a better world. This sadness, as hard as it is, is a reflection of your compassion and commitment. There is beauty in that, even when it hurts.
It’s okay to feel heartache; but let that sadness sit beside your passion. Together, they fuel each other, reminding you why you fight and you’re not alone in this feeling. There are others who share your values, your hopes, and your vision for a world rooted in dignity and equality. Even in sorrow, you’re part of a resilient community, many of whom subscribe to this newsletter and are reading these words right alongside you. Think about it…our hearts all broke at the same time. It’s bittersweet, but there’s something poetic in that shared experience of knowing we all care about something that much.
Our shared heartbreak is not a weakness, it’s a spark. How lucky are we to feel this collective sorrow. Let this pain soften you. Allow yourself to be cared for, to be held by others who feel this ache too.
What an honor it is to share this heartbreak with you. How lucky we are to walk hand in hand toward a new future, making our stride so bold and joyful that even those who once stood in our way might feel the pull to join us. And if others point and laugh, let them—because honestly, I’d rather be us than them. If believing in humanity a little too much is our flaw, then I’d say we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.
Please, take care of yourself. Thank you for all you’ve given, all you’ve done. Rest now. Together, we have a world to change—and I’m so grateful to have you by my side.
x Liz
how are you doing? 💜
Thanks, Liz, for all your hard work and for sharing your thoughts. I’ve been feeling naive to be so surprised, but you’re right, there’s nothing embarrassing about having hope and believing in the best of us.