Just another Wednesday
by Lauren R. Nowosatka and Sasha Chavez
Preface
On Tuesday, the 5th of November 2024, the majority of constituents in the United States of America voted to elect Donald Trump as the 47th President to (re-)reign over the nation for the coming four years. The results came as a shock to many, but was evidently a celebration for far more, or 75,169,068 to be exact. We write this Corpus–as women within the PCS research group in the Department of Kinesiology at the University of Maryland–as an attempt to reflexively respond to the results that have left us stunned.
Lauren R. Nowosatka, PhD Candidate
I allowed myself to sleep in on the morning of Tuesday, the 5th of November. Coming off of a busy five days at the 2024 North American Society for the Sociology of Sport Conference in Chicago, Illinois, and a sorry attempt at celebrating my 26th birthday on Monday, the 4th by my lonesome, I was exhausted. No thanks to my trusty internal alarm, I was jolted awake by 7.00am. So much for sleeping in! Eventually, I reluctantly rolled out of bed only to lay back down on the couch and inevitably turn on the news. Scrolling through the infinite guide of news channels was already mind numbing enough, so I made the executive decision to turn on something a little bit more bearable: season 9 of The Real Housewives of New York City (RHONY). Filmed in the fall of 2016, season 9 of RHONY infamously captured former journalist Carole Radziwill as she prepared for, attempted to discuss with her castmates, and suffered through the disappointing–to say the least–unveiling of the results of the 2016 US Presidential Election. I’m not sure if I was setting an omen for what was yet to come, or just subconsciously preparing myself for the worst, but throughout that Tuesday morning and afternoon, RHONY season 9 provided me with a familial sense of comfort, alongside a looming disturbia.
As the popular vote tallies started to roll in that Tuesday evening, I was not surprised by the initial, overwhelming concentration of red coloring over a few states among the southeast and midwest. This now being my third election cycle participating as an eligible voter, I had a feeling that was bound, regardless. Despite the initial tease of drops of faded blue in my home state of Michigan, neighboring Wisconsin, and Pennswingvania, I anxiously went to bed hoping for the best, but knowing the worst was still yet to come.
I rolled awake in the wee hours that Wednesday night/morning–a communal anxiety-induced-apnea, as I later came to learn–barred by the weight of a darkened dread. From 3.00am on, Wednesday, the 6th of November was nothing short of a spiritual black out. Depsite the sun attempting to peek through the whispy clouds, the day after the election was monochromatically filtered grey. Going through the motions of my typical Wednesday schedule–meetings, class, office hours–felt like trying to keep myself afloat in a bed of quicksand. Everything, and everyone, moved slow. It was hard to speak, it was hard to think. Texts rolled in with dear friends offering what felt like condolences, which were apt. After all, we were all in mourning.
As much as it pains me to say, I cannot say that the results of the election shocked me. That said, I remain frustrated, devastated, and debilitated. What does this mean for women? What does this mean for the academy? What does this mean for who I am, and what I do?
Sasha H. Tolliver, PhD Student
November 4th, 2024 was a day that I waited in anguish for. It was the day before the election, the day that I feared mattered more than the election itself. Attending classes, completing assignments, all of it felt redundant as the next day, would any of it truly matter? Going through my typical daily motions the Monday before election day, I felt fraudulent. How could I speak to people when I didn’t actually care to hear their response? Why am I giving a presentation on policies that will most likely be repealed? Nothing felt real, nothing felt purposeful. My time would have been spent better at home. But, I chose to push on. To put the election in the background and distract myself with work, hoping that tomorrow would come a little bit later.
November 5th, 2024 was the day I went numb. My anxiety was visceral throughout the day. I felt sweaty, thirsty, my mind raced, I was distracted, unfocused, and thankful that I did not have to be in school. I didn’t want 8pm to roll around, but it did. I went to my parents house for comfort, drinking wine with my mother as we began watching the votes roll in. Trump wins Nebraska, Trump is leading in Arizona. It’s still too early, there’s still time. All of the votes aren’t in yet. There’s still time, Sasha. I left my parents house around 11pm, not being able to stand the anxiety any longer. I turned my phone on do not disturb for the rest of the night and watched cartoons until I fell asleep. Restless, I woke up around 5am. I felt a lump in my throat as I went to check the phone, knowing what the first notification I would see would show: the election results.
November 5th, 2016 was the first election that I could vote in. Going to the polls, an excited teenager doing her civic duty, I felt that I was truly contributing to something in this society. Society came crashing down around me in the early hours of November 6th, 2016. Society had failed me and I felt that I had failed it on my first try. What more could I have done? November 6, 2024, I was transported back to my parents living room, crying on their couch not understanding how the America that I had grown up to love could harbor so much hate. I was high school Sasha all over again, feeling so small and disappointed in this country.