Reactions across the country following the US Presidential election reflect a mix of emotions. As CNN reported, responses have varied widely, from those celebrating the outcome as a new beginning to others fearing it as a return to darker days. Among these voices is a hopeful one: a “white, college-educated, young, gay male” in Phoenix who believes this moment might bring progress. Not all of us share that sense of possibility. For many, including myself, another white, educated, gay man from the American West, this election result has stirred something different: anger. This post is my own reaction—a perspective grounded not in hope, but in the hard realities and injustices I’ve witnessed and lived through. It examines Trump’s impact on healthcare and social justice in America, highlighting the struggles that vulnerable communities face under his policies.
Some Thoughts (and Righteous Anger) about the US Presidential Election Results
After crushing losses that handed control of the White House, Supreme Court, Senate, and (likely) House to Donald Trump and the MAGA Republicans, Democratic leaders, including Kamala Harris, insist that “the fight isn’t over.” Yet, for many of us, it feels as if it just might be. The United States has chosen a leader with a long record of inciting division and hate—a man indicted on multiple criminal charges—signaling a turn toward values that feel so far from the ones I hold dear. It’s hard not to feel my rights have been trampled on in the process. For what? In hopes of lowering gas prices or buying into empty promises of economic “revival?”
Having worked on political campaigns since I was 14, this isn’t the first time American voters have let me down, and I know it won’t be the last. I was an idealistic 16-year-old, canvassing with my then-boyfriend for Washington State’s Referendum 74, a measure to approve or deny same-sex marriage, the first time I was called a “faggot.” That was the moment I understood that many of my neighbors didn’t feel the same love and respect toward me that I felt toward them.
Today, that feeling is stronger than ever. To many MAGA supporters, our lives, our love, and our safety are just “identity politics” and “wokeism”—convenient fuel for their culture war. But for us, this isn’t about politics; it’s about our fundamental right to exist openly and safely without being condemned under a façade of puritanical “morality.” With Trump back in office and a conservative Supreme Court, even the right to same-sex marriage feels precarious. Protecting these rights is urgent—our ability to love freely shouldn’t hinge on shifting political agendas.
So, I’m angry—about so many things. I am angry that the promise of a better future seems more distant than ever and that so many are willing to overlook injustices. But my anger feels especially sharp when I think about America’s broken healthcare system, which has taken more from me than I could have imagined.
America’s Broken Healthcare System Has Taken Too Much From Me
Trump’s impact on healthcare is deeply personal for me. With the new administration, I worry about the social justice implications for those who depend on programs like the Affordable Care Act.
My mother passed away in 2018, ensnared in medical debt she couldn’t escape. She spent her last years shuffling between doctors, sometimes turned away because of unpaid bills. The healthcare system failed her in every way, and I’ll never forget the helplessness I felt watching her struggle. In the end, a doctor prescribed a medication that fatally interacted with another she was taking—one more mistake in a system that had already let her down so many times.
As a young man with type 1 diabetes living in America, I learned quickly that survival often meant crossing borders or turning to strangers. I used to travel to Mexico to buy insulin for myself and friends, and when things got desperate, I even bought it off reddit. The healthcare system had let me down over and over, forcing me into risky, makeshift solutions that never should have been necessary.
With the new administration, healthcare stands at a critical crossroads. Trump’s plan to loosen regulations could reduce protections for preexisting conditions and limit ACA coverage, with potential cuts to enrollment funds, Medicaid work requirements, and higher premiums for vulnerable populations. Advisors like vaccine skeptic Robert F. Kennedy Jr. raise concerns about public health rollbacks and weakened scientific standards. For those of us who have seen the system fail firsthand, these changes risk making life-saving care even less accessible.
Navigating Anger, Privilege, and a Disillusioned American Dream
The proposed cuts to federal spending are another example of Trump’s impact on healthcare and social justice, leaving working families vulnerable.
I first felt the gravity of this failure—and of America’s turn away from values I am committed to—as early as 2016, when Trump won the presidency. Not long after I met my husband, David, we began making plans to protect our future together. In early 2024, we finally moved to England, finding the peace and hope we couldn’t seem to hold onto in the country where we were born and raised. But I’m still angry that it’s come to this—that as gay men, our very existence and basic needs feel so unwelcome.
To those who claim to care about working Americans: how does supporting Republicans, who relentlessly push trickle-down policies despite decades of evidence proving they fail ordinary citizens, make sense? These leaders offer sweeping “solutions” to imagined cultural threats but leave those actually in need with little to nothing. They chip away at the few safety nets that remain, prioritizing corporate interests and the ultra-wealthy. What good is economic growth when it does nothing to improve the lives of everyday people?
Figures like Elon Musk exemplify this hypocrisy. An immigrant who built his wealth with government subsidies and taxpayer support, Musk recently offered millions in campaign giveaways to sway votes for Trump. Now, he warns voters to expect economic “hardship” if he joins Trump’s Cabinet to slash federal spending, framing austerity as a path to “long-term prosperity.” Economists, however, warn that Musk’s proposed $2 trillion cuts could destabilize key programs, with many viewing such drastic measures as risky and unlikely.
Musk champions policies that strip away the protections he once relied on, securing profits at the expense of those who need help the most. Watching billionaires thrive on public dollars while pushing for cuts to programs that support working people isn’t just hypocrisy—it’s exploitation. And as long as leaders enable this kind of greed, the cycle of inequality will only deepen, further concentrating wealth and power in the hands of a few.
Speaking of hypocrisy, can I even be angry? Here I am, grappling with my own complicity. With Trump’s victory, US stock markets surged, and Bitcoin soared. My own investments benefited greatly—Musk’s influence in this campaign alone caused my portfolio to grow significantly. As a former Tesla employee, I hold shares from my time there, even as I grow increasingly disillusioned with Musk’s actions and their distance from Tesla’s original mission. How can I rail against a system I, admittedly, benefit from in ways others cannot? It’s a difficult question, and reconciling my frustration with my privilege is something I continue to wrestle with.
David and I are ready to grow our family, but the reality of what’s happening in the U.S. is impossible to ignore. With Project 2025 on the horizon, Trump’s agenda is poised to roll back protections the moment he takes office. We’re left questioning if it will ever truly be safe to return. The thought of exposing our future children to discrimination, or even violence, simply for being who we are, is no longer something we can take lightly. The U.S. may be our birthplace, but it’s increasingly hard to see it as a place we could ever return to and build a safe, fulfilling future.
One of the reasons I love David so much is his unshakeable kindness and optimism; he genuinely believes things can get better and wants to assume the worst won’t happen. He hopes to return home for the holidays—to hold onto that hope with family and friends. But I’m too disillusioned to share that optimism—and after this election, I can’t foresee us feeling safe enough to go back anytime soon.
Though I’ve moved abroad, the pain lingers; it’s hard to process that the country of my birth now feels unsafe, a place where raising a family seems impossible. David’s belief in change keeps me grounded, even as my own hope fades.
I want to believe we can rebuild the America I hoped for when I was 16, idealistic and canvassing for marriage equality. But I don’t want that hope to come at the expense of facing reality. I want to ask: How can we hold onto hope without becoming blind to the pain of those who are most vulnerable? How can we build a safer, fairer, and more compassionate world?
These questions don’t have easy answers. But maybe by sharing our stories—of anger, hope, and resilience—we can start to see paths forward, even if they’re difficult to walk.
Unencumbered Press wants to hear whether you agree, disagree, or have a different perspective. Let’s have an open conversation in the comments.
November 11, 2024 @ 10:06 pm
What a moving piece. I completely agree; the path forward feels uncertain, but lifting brave voices like yours is essential to finding our way. Much love to everyone navigating the privileged, fractured, and sometimes beautiful American experience.