The 18 words I shared with my daughters after the 2016 election
Their job is to keep the main thing the main thing.
I originally wrote and posted this article in 2016, on the morning following the presidential election. I decided to post it here, eight years later, for two reasons:
I don’t have it in me to write about the latest election, and
I was reminded of its posting after a discussion I had last week with a friend. During a conversation about raising successful kids, I said, “I want my kids to be like roaches, capable of surviving and, indeed, thriving, under even the harshest of conditions.
That, in this instance, means refraining from catastrophizing election results. Politicians win or lose; life goes on.
“Your job is to keep the goal the goal.”
I didn’t watch the election results. I was in bed before 10 pm.
When I awakened at 3 am, I lie on the floor in my still-dark office, opened Twitter and saw the results.
I was as surprised as anyone, though I was less than shocked. It always felt to me that more people despised HRC than loved Trump, a recipe for an upset in my mind.
When my daughters awakened, my wife shared the news. They were shocked, after having watched some of the debates, and hearing the way Trump spoke to Hillary and about women.
They didn’t have a favorite, but they were offended at then-candidate Trump’s behavior.
(We don’t discuss politics as a family; It works best that way.)
But at the girls’ schools, the kids talk incessantly about their love of Trump and how terrible Hillary is. (This is Texas, after all.)
Last week, when my oldest daughter said the teacher allowed them to share their views and my daughter was the only one who had anything good to say about HRC, I offered up the perfunctory “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.”
Your responsibilities don’t change
This morning, when I drove my daughter to flute practice, she mentioned how everyone will likely be talking about Trump winning and how excited they are.
“They have every right to be,” I said. “It’s no different than if we lived in another state and HRC had one. Most of the people would be bragging about that.”
She nodded in agreement.
As we crested the hill in front of her school, I felt compelled to say more.
“You know how I tell you that I want you and your sister to be able to go anywhere, under any circumstances, and succeed?” I asked. “This election is an example of what I’m talking about. A lot of people are going to be talking about how bad it is, who should have won, what it means for this group and that group. Those are all unknowns.”
I continued: “Here’s what we—me and you—do know: “Your job hasn’t changed; I still expect you to go out in the world and be amazingly successful.”
She’s heard the talk that ensued many times, so she flashed a big I-know-it’s-going-to-be-OK smile, gave me the three big kisses I require, then said “I love you, Daddy” while exiting the truck.
Blacks as sympathy figures
As a proud dad of two lovely daughters, I get sick of people selling the “you-can-only-be-successful-if” narrative, especially to black people. I want my daughters to know that the goal remains to goal, no matter who is in the White House or how difficult the task is in front of them.
This isn’t the narrative being told by the media, who seemingly want black people to think we can only thrive under ideal conditions.
When I returned home, I shared the gist of the talk with my wife, then added, “This is when we earn our money as parents, AND I LOVE it.”
My daughters are not victims