Dear Son

Dear J---,

I'm writing you this letter because nineteen days ago, Donald Trump won the United States presidential election.

When I decided to become a mother -- your mother -- I knew that the world into which I was bringing you was imperfect. I knew that you would one day learn about the terrible atrocities human beings have committed against one another and against the natural world. I knew that you would be forced to confront human cruelty in at least some of its forms, although I believed and hoped, and I still believe and hope, that I could shelter you from directly experiencing the worst things that can happen to a child and a man. I never expected that you would be growing up in country ostensibly "led" by an ignorant sexual predator who encourages racism and denies the scientific method, intellectual expertise, and facts.

Don't get me wrong, you are still leading a privileged life, and you will continue to lead a privileged life, compared to most other children in the world and even most other children in our own country. You have always had, and will almost certainly always have, your basic needs met: nutritious food, comfortable house, warm clothes, shoes that fit, clean water. You have two highly-educated parents who love you and who read to you every night. You have stuffed toys and art supplies and books and blocks and toy trucks -- a lot of toy trucks, Jude, if we're honest. (Your request to Santa for a toy street sweeper is still pending.) You've attended a private preschool since you were two. Yesterday we coaxed you into eating Brussels sprouts, because nutrition is important. You are loved and indulged and cossetted, and I'm working on not spoiling you, but that's another letter. My point is: you have it good.

You also have other kinds of privilege that you'll come to understand -- racial privilege, gender privilege, national privilege, linguistic privilege.

I'm not suggesting that the election of Donald Trump is going to directly or immediately change the comfort and advantages of your life. But it does make me lose some of my faith in our country and the American people. You aren't living in a war-torn country or a failed state, but you are growing up at a time when our society is flirting with fascism, and when hatemongers are finding a dangerously receptive audience. Right now, white supremacists, misogynists, anti-intellectuals, and xenophobes are making headlines every day, and their disgusting commentary is slowly becoming normalized as part of a regular political spectrum.

I hope that when you are old enough to read this letter, we can laugh about my worries. We can say "look how paranoid your mom was back in 2016." I hope this letter is not prescient. I hope I'm wrong about the dangers of this time in which we live.

But if I'm not wrong, Jude, then I want you to know:

I love you.

I'm sorry that I didn't do more to influence this election and to defeat Donald Trump. I should have volunteered to do phone-banking for Hillary Clinton. I will always regret that I did not.

I will do everything I can, on both a personal and a national level, to fight racism, sexism, and attacks on scientific accuracy. I'll do everything I can to support the freedom of speech, freedom of religion, multiculturalism, gender equality, and cutting-edge education and research that I believe make our country beautiful.

I'm going to be spending some time over the next four years, and over the rest of our lives, working in my own ways to support our values. Mostly, I'll try to include you in the things I do, but sometimes you might miss out on time with me, or not understand why we need to devote our time and money to causes that don't affect our lives directly on a daily basis. I'll try to explain as we go along.

I don't know exactly what's going to happen, and I'm scared for all of us -- for myself as well as for you. I hope that if some of the worst possibilities come to pass, that I will be brave enough to step forward and stand with people who are being victimized by our current politicians. I hope some day you'll understand that even though being your mother is my highest priority, sometimes being your mother will mean spending time writing and volunteering and marching, because good moms fight for a better future and a better country, as well as cooking dinner and doing the laundry. (Okay, yes, dad does the laundry in our house, mostly, but you see my point.)

My hope for you is not that you do any one thing in particular with your life. I'm excited to see you continue to develop and to learn what your interests are going to be, what career you follow. I don't want to hamper you by putting a lot of parental expectations on exactly what you make of yourself. My only hopes for you are that you will be kind, you will be thoughtful, and you will be proud to stand up for what you believe in. And, if I'm honest, I hope you'll be proud of me, too.

Love always,

Mom