After reflecting on the 2024 presidential election results for about eight hours and waiting for the sharpest sides of my disappointment to dull, I shared some words online on Wednesday.

I decided to give these words a permanent home so I can remember how I felt at this moment in history (and because a few people on Instagram asked me to). Here's what I said, followed by more thoughts that weren't within the scope of Wednesday's social media post but I'd like to express today.

This will not be a statement demanding that those who voted for Trump unfollow me. I don't care whether his supporters choose to follow me online or not.

I don't typically unfollow people who don't share my beliefs (unless they unfollow me first or they're being extremely hateful to the point that it impacts my mental wellness), and I don't intend to today. I try to have well-rounded and well-informed views, and it helps to see what the other sides are saying and doing.

This is a public space, but it's my space and I want to be clear about where I stand and who I stand with.

I’m (obviously) not with those who stay silent because they “don’t do politics.” This isn't just about sharing stances or support online; it's about thinking politics doesn't matter because you're not the one being harmed or not participating in important conversations on or off the internet.

I hope they'll reconsider being ambivalent about what happens to other people. Or fearing man so much that they'll do anything to avoid backlash or even productive conflict—at the expense of the most marginalized in our society.

Talking about politics doesn't automatically sow division. It can start movements and open minds. But even if it is division you're worried about, I will gladly divide myself from people who decided that racism, xenophobia, misogyny, etc. were not deal breakers.

I'm not with the people who say, "We can disagree politically and still be friends." For me, we're past that point in American politics.

I can confidently and proudly say that I don't have a single friend who voted for Trump, as I don't hang out with people who don’t care to protect anyone who isn’t like them or who smile in my face and then cast a vote for someone who has and will continue to harm people like me.

I'm not in 100% agreement with all of my friends on everything—I don't exist in an echo chamber—but they're also not people who are actively undoing all of the progress I'm working toward. There is a difference.

I'm not with those who loop the Black community in with all "POC" when it comes to politics. The numbers clearly show we're not aligned. In fact, the Hispanic/Latino population is a house divided, and we're misaligned in ways that endanger Black Americans. I'm not lumping them all together or casting them out; I'm merely saying we are not the same.

I'm not with those who cast a third-party protest vote or didn't vote at all. I acknowledge their right to do so, but they'll now have to live with the fact that their decision will directly harm other communities in this country that they likely care about, all because they wanted to make a statement on behalf of another country.

I didn’t vote for Harris because she was the perfect picture of the future I want to see. Specifically (we’ve got to start being specific), I’m against her original stance on Palestine. But walking an inch toward progress is still better than setting the entire path on fire.

And finally, I’m not with my fellow Christians who are slapping “Jesus is still on the throne” and “this world is not our home” platitudes onto this. These can be true and unhelpful at the same time. It's a cop-out way to try to move past this moment quickly and ignore the devastation the election result means for a lot of people that Jesus cares about, and we should, too. Hyper-individualistic self-preservation is not a Christian principle. We can look forward to the next world without being useless and passive in this one.

I'm sorry to those who feel betrayed and disappointed today. I identify with your grief, anger, and dismay. We were not foolish for having hope, as Cole Arthur Riley articulated very well earlier. It's also not foolish to continue to have hope.

If you see me going harder and even more actively participating in critical movements in this country and wonder what "radicalized" me, just know that it was this. My views haven't changed, but my patience for playing nice with people who want to go backward has.

I'm sorry to the immigrant community, who have faced some of the worst dehumanization during this election cycle. Your fears are valid, and I hate that it has come to this.

I'm sorry to the LGBTQ+ community, and I want you to know that I didn't vote against you. Your fears are valid, and despite anyone's personal opinions of you, your right to flourish as a human should be respected.

I'm sorry to 90% of Black women, who once again overwhelmingly carried this thing. It still wasn't enough to overcome the people who hate us more than they hate racism, sexual violence, fraud, or anything else.

That's all I'll say for now. If anyone is disappointed in me for saying it, I wish I knew how to express this more gently: I do not care. You are free to leave this online space. If anyone is surprised by anything I've said here, they don't know me at all.

If you do know me IRL and are thinking about texting my phone to attempt to argue me down about my views and values, don't. If you really knew me, you’d know that’s a bad idea, and I strongly advise against it. Good faith conversations are welcome at my discretion, but not today.

To those with progressive ideals, don’t fault yourself for trying. As others have said, this lesson isn’t ours to learn. You did what you could. What comes in the future may be bad for everyone—including those who voted for it—but it’ll be worse if we give up.

The fire has fuel, and I still have faith. The election is over, but the work isn’t. May we push forward with as much hope, love, and motivation as we can muster.

I stand by every word of this reflection, but as is customary with a brain like mine that won't quit, I've thought of more that I didn't say—thoughts that also might've been good, resonating, and warm (kind words included in some feedback I was sent on Wednesday) for the moment we've found ourselves in.

Most importantly, I realize I didn't have the space to make known what I'm for.

I stated clearly who and what I wasn't with—and I said what I said—but I also want anyone who engages with me (on or offline) to understand what's behind this politics talk for me.

Because it's not just politics. There are human lives at hand, and their ability to flourish equally is what matters to me.

What I'm For

I’m for curiosity, questioning, and innovation. I'm for changing our minds when we have new information, adapting as necessary to help people thrive, and switching up how we do things when the old ways aren't working (or are no longer working for all of us). I believe rejecting all societal change is dangerous, illogical, and unreasonable.

This openness to change means you'll hardly ever see me side with conservatism, which, by definition, is a "commitment to traditional values and ideas with opposition to change or innovation."

I have nothing against "tradition" (which can mean many different things to different people) and the right for people to be traditional or conservative in their own lives and homes. I reject the notion that their personal beliefs should dictate how others can live or become the law of the land.

I'm for accountability. I'm for accountability in ways that don't allow me to excuse the Democratic party at every angle and also explain why I'm not siding with those—like Trump—who want things like total police immunity.

I'm for freedom, equality, and liberation. It's freedom of religion for everyone or freedom of religion (and everything else) for no one. I stand with the Christians and other people of faith who aren't trying to force their biblical (and other ancient texts) interpretations and personal morals onto the government and the public.

And I want everyone who wants liberation (because we know some enjoy boxes and made-up rules and have the right to do so) to experience freedom from the interconnected systems of oppression that exist, which include but aren't limited to racism, ableism, and patriarchy.

I'm for civility and consciousness. It can be difficult to be civil with people who I believe are making life unnecessarily difficult for others. But in the same way that I want (nay, require) them to respect my right to believe what I do, I acknowledge their right to vote the way they want and commit to not dehumanizing them.

I'm for the original meaning of "woke" and want us to be aware of what's happening in the world and within ourselves. Real, meaningful change has never begun with people who go along with what they were taught regardless of the harm it causes or do things they don't believe are right just because everyone else is doing it.

I'm for the Church. This may sound crazy to some of you, given the support Trump received from many religious people. But it's critical to remember that his supporters were primarily white, conservative evangelicals—which I and many, many other people of faith are not. Millions of Christians don't look, think, act, or vote the same way and plenty of white Christians didn't vote for Trump.

I still believe in the Church as a whole, as a body of people who can mobilize in significant, remarkable ways to serve others and provide strong resistance to evil and oppression in this world (more on this in the next section). We just can't seem to agree on what "evil" and "oppression" are in 2024, and that will have to be okay.

I'm for compassionate lawmaking and decision-making. I'm for everything that helps humans flourish, but I understand that we won't always agree on what this means. For me, it means that I stand with those who don't want mass deportations, the defunding of public schools, or the elimination of inclusivity initiatives—to name a few.

I'm for action and mutual aid. This is how I believe the community (and the Church) will come together. We can help each other in ways the government can't (or won't). I want to be a part of that and the collectives, coalitions, and organizations working toward equitable outcomes for all.

Why I'm Not Leaving

I've seen a range of angry responses to the election results, from "If you voted for Trump, unfollow me right now" (which I addressed my take on at the beginning) to "Time to leave the USA" to "American Christianity isn't worth saving—the church will never see me again."

I understand each one and support those who want Trump voters out of their orbit or need to leave certain places and spaces to feel safe. But this is not my path.

It may be my pure stubbornness and fighting spirit. It may be my activated faith, which firmly believes that Jesus stood (and still stands) with those who were being persecuted and marginalized by religious people.

I refuse to give up my home and turn my back on those who can't leave. I intend to stay and try to move the needle toward what I believe is a better, more just America—not fly away to be comfortable elsewhere.

I believe the Church isn't about flashy lights or catchy soundbites for social media. It's not about having perfect attendance in the pews and then ignoring the plight of the "least of these" in our communities.

The Church (or at least some branches of it) still stands with the foreigner, the economically disadvantaged, and those who are most vulnerable to tyrants in power. Churches in America have the people power—unless we all leave, which is happening at an understandably rapid rate—and the resources to make a difference.

I pray that I won't have to eat these words in the future, but I won't be throwing in the faith towel just because I disagree with how some Christians voted. I won't let the world think that white, conservative evangelicals own Jesus or corner the market on Christianity.

I won't naively or unfairly suggest that they're all fake Christians just because we don't reach all of the same conclusions and didn't vote the same way, but I'm also not standing back to defend or convince those who don't want to change. I'm linking arms with those who are walking in the same direction.

And there are a lot of us who still believe and still want to stay, despite it all. I'm not leaving the country for the same reason I'm not leaving the Church: I want to help usher in the change that I want to see.