My favorite site on which to follow the presidential race is FiveThirtyEight.com, which provides an array of colorful maps and statistical models based on every new update to presidential polls. Within the past few weeks, as Trump’s numbers have improved, I’ve been making a visit to FiveThirtyEight every day. It’s safe to say that I’ve spent much time obsessing over this election. Donald Trump’s meteoric ascent in American politics has made me uneasy for at least a year, but as Election Day draws tangibly closer, I’m feeling a more acute sense of dread. For many Americans, Donald Trump’s white nationalist remarks have been a cause for deep, unshakeable worry. I check the polls religiously—each bump for Hillary is a small personal victory, each gain for Trump a small defeat. I find myself thinking about Donald Trump all the time. In fact, I’m terrified. Many of my peers are, too. We need to talk about the psychological toll that Donald Trump’s candidacy has on so many of us.
“This election isn’t like other elections” has become a cliché—it’s true that everyone, regardless of political affiliation, has been astonished by Election 2016. The bizarreness of the primaries, the unconventionality of the candidates, and the brutishness of the discourse are universally acknowledged. But the genuine fear instilled by Trump’s candidacy is rarely addressed. It is not enough to characterize this election as merely unusual. Trump has proudly proposed major civil rights violations, he has suggested apartheid-style measures to segregate Muslims, and he has threatened millions with deportation. That’s not just unusual—it’s unprecedented. Trump showers us with a numbing barrage of anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim, anti-everyone hate speech. And with Trump’s bombast on full display, it’s easy to ignore his quiet running mate, Mike Pence. But Pence’s famous Indiana anti-LBGT legislation is no less troublesome. For decades Pence has fought the gay rights movement, and he calls homosexuality “the types of behaviors that facilitate the spreading of the HIV virus.” For Muslim Americans, for Latinx Americans, for LGBT+ Americans, and for other groups singled out by the Trump machine, this election has the potential outcome of personal persecution. Deportation, stop-and-frisk, a Muslim ban—to many, Donald Trump poses an immediate risk. That’s why I’m so nervous all the time.
You don’t have to be a threatened minority to be uneasy about Donald Trump, though. Maybe you’re afraid of his ties with Putin, or perhaps you first recognized the threat he poses in his authoritarian speech at the RNC—the speech in which he bellowed “I alone can fix it,” as his name stood in letters thirty feet tall. I’m worried about Donald Trump for all of these reasons, too. And I must confess that I find myself thinking about him too often. I try to imagine what it would be like if he were elected president. I try to tell myself that it would be okay, that he can’t mess up everything too terribly, that maybe he would be merely an embarrassment. It couldn’t be all that bad, could it? But as the election nears, and the polls tighten, I’m worrying about him more than ever. Sometimes I feel ashamed for thinking about him so much—I know he’s an egomaniac, and I know he wants me to think about him. As my worries compound, I’ve realized that I can’t be alone in this. Lately, I’ve examined my peers for signs that I’m not the only one with 2016 Election Anxiety—and I’ve discovered plenty of others who have similarly deep concerns about the election.
When Donald Trump comes up in conversation, he elicits a wide variety of potential reactions. Some people ridicule him, attempting to appear unfazed by the prospect of a Trump presidency. Many people express exasperation not with Trump, but with the election. And occasionally people expose feelings of genuine worry. Whatever the reaction, it’s often evident that a more serious anxiety about Donald Trump runs deep—but no one is willing to truly express it. Usually we treat Trump with mockery and humor. Given his wild appearance and over-the-top persona, this isn’t too hard to do. But our humor often disguises more serious concerns. I, too, am guilty of making jokes about this election. However, our collective tendency to treat Election 2016 with sardonic humor makes it difficult to detect whether others are as deeply bothered by the Trump campaign as I am. So I’ve recently ditched the jokes in an effort to become more honest when discussing 2016 Election Anxiety. As I began to approach Trump conversations with a more serious bent, I soon noticed just how many of my peers shared my same profound worries about Trump’s wild rise to the top. Some have family members with shaky immigration status, some feel threatened by his anti-Muslim rhetoric, and some, who are less directly targeted, are afraid of what he will do to others.
In the current political climate, it’s difficult to communicate this fear. Many people are equally disgusted with both Clinton and Trump, to the extent that any complaint about Trump is met with a reflexive dig at Clinton. And when I speak to Trump supporters, my fear of Trump is politely dismissed as a partisan opinion. This is why it’s challenging to properly convey the seriousness of my 2016 Election Anxiety. It’s hard to express that the unease I feel due to Donald Trump’s campaign is not just political disagreement; it’s personal. It’s a profound fear of his authoritarianism and bigoted statements, which really are neither liberal nor conservative.
It’s true, there are multitudes of Americans who are not particularly stressed out by the Trump campaign—many people intend to vote for him, and others see him merely as a nuisance or a buffoon. But it’s important for everyone to acknowledge that many people, like me, feel a deeper, personal anxiety about Donald Trump. This is rarely acknowledged. Sometimes I feel like I’m taking the election too seriously. But just this morning, in lecture, I noticed a laptop screen in front of me refreshing FiveThirtyEight’s newest election map—and I was reminded that I’m not alone. If everyone acknowledged the unusually profound character of 2016 Election Anxiety, perhaps more safe spaces will open up in which people can speak honestly about the pervasive unease caused by Trump. With a bit more openness, many of us will be able to better express our sincere worries. If we can candidly talk about 2016 Election Anxiety, our compulsive joking about Donald Trump can turn into a more truthful and meaningful discourse.
Oh—and vote for Hillary Clinton.