E

very morning I wake up and realize 

that we’re one day closer to the gen-

eral election on Nov. 3. Whether it be 

from a New York Times notification or a new 

mark on my calendar, the start to each morning 

feels like a ticking time bomb. With each con-

scious realization of Election Day’s proximity 
comes an unavoidable pit of anxiety. This un-

easiness is not foreign to me; in fact, it’s a feeling 
that I’ve felt before — four years ago, to be exact.

It’s what my therapist likes to call political 

anxiety. To me, it feels more like political deja 

vu. 

On the surface, it makes sense that emo-

tions similar to those I was experiencing in the 

fall of 2016 are reemerging now. After all, both 

2016 and 2020 are election years, and they both 

involve the ruthless presidential campaign — 

filled with misogyny, xenophobia and racism 

— of Donald Trump. But the most unsettling 

similarity between the 2016 and 2020 

election is internal; my thoughts, feel-

ings and anxieties suddenly feel eerily 

familiar to those I had four years ago.

Let me explain.

In the fall of 2016, I was an overly-

ambitious, tired-eyed 16-year-old with 

a growing interest in politics. My par-

ents have always been vocal political 

junkies, conditioning my brother and I 

to adopt the same interest in the topic. 

I followed this passion throughout my 

high school career: I was the president 

of our Model Congress club, vice presi-

dent of the Political Debate Forum and 

editor of the Millburn Observer — the 

high school’s political newspaper. That 

fall, I was enrolled in what would be-

come the best class I have ever taken, 

college included: AP Government and 

Politics (GoPo, for short), taught by Mr. 

Raymond. 

Mr. Raymond would regularly de-

vote parts of class to analysis of the 

year’s election. He never disclosed his 

party affiliation or personal beliefs, 

and instead offered us objective and 

detailed examinations of debates, his-

torical trends and news coverage. He 

taught us how to both properly listen 

to and process information from me-

dia outlets. This meant identifying 

bias and drawing conclusions based on 

evidence, whether the source be Fox 

News, MSNBC or CNN. 

I had never been both so knowledge-

able about and immersed in American 

politics. I valued Mr. Raymond’s les-

sons more than any course before: I would spend 

hours after school every weekday rereading my 

class notes, jotting down individual analysis 

and later referencing them when engaging in 

out-of-classroom debates. I began reading Real-

ClearPolitics and Nate Silver’s FiveThirtyEight 

every day. I watched the news from stations that 

leaned politically in both directions, whether it 

be delivered by Rachel Maddow or Chris Wal-

lace. I researched ways I could get involved in 

my own community, which led me to canvas and 

phone-bank for the Clinton campaign. 

I was always a Hillary Clinton supporter, 

but I was also extremely disgusted by Trump’s 

behavior. This disgust morphed into a grenade 

of anger following the 2016 October Surprise, 

when an Access Hollywood video was released 

of Trump telling then-reporter Billy Bush to 

“grab ‘em (women) by the pussy.” I cried to my 

dad as I watched the video, hearing a presiden-

tial candidate glorify, explicitly participate in 

and perpetuate rape culture. I couldn’t remain 

silent anymore. I quickly grabbed my computer, 

locked myself in my room and wrote a piece ti-

tled “An Open Letter to Donald Trump,” plead-

ing for people not to vote for him. 

I couldn’t imagine a world in which Trump 

was president.

But four years later, here we are. The simi-

larities from then to now are almost uncanny. I 

am a junior in college now, continuing studying 

my civic interests through a major in political 
science. I channel my anxiety into Get Out the 

Vote efforts, studying and planning how to in-
crease voter turnout in a course called “POLSCI 

389: Detroit Votes” or through phone-banking 

independently. While I am no longer Mr. Ray-

mond’s student, I still keep in touch with him 

via email. I still learn from his analysis when 

I feel too overwhelmed to adequately sort out 

my thoughts. I have been tracking the prog-

ress of the 2020 general election since the 

summer of 2019, still relying on RealClearPoli-

tics and FiveThirtyEight for political news. I 

still write about politics as a form of catharsis. 

I am just as, if not even more, scared for 

another Trump term as I was before. The po-

litical instability in the United States combined 

with little effort to control the pandemic right 

now is dangerous. Our country is in an extreme-

ly volatile state, and I am at a loss for ideas when 

I try to think about what else I can do about it 

beside traditional GOTV efforts. I’ve been rack-

ing my brain about this for a while, as the situ-

ation gets more pressing with each news bite. 

And while canvassing can be effective, I can’t 

help but feel an undeniable sense of dread 

when envisioning Election Day because I can-

not guarantee my desired outcome. 

My anxiety paints Election Day up as sort of 

political Armageddon. How could it not when 

the president has actively tried to suppress 

voter turnout, all while claiming he won’t con-

cede if he loses. And if it’s anything like 2016, I 

cannot get my hopes up only to be let down. 

Though I try to forget, I remember that day 

like it was yesterday. 
N

ov. 8, 2016 was a day the country 

long anticipated. I had been fol-

lowing the polls, and while they 

were swaying in favor of Clinton, they were 

creeping dangerously close to the margin of 

error. Still, I tried my best to maintain a cau-

tiously optimistic perspective. That afternoon, 

I drove an hour and a half away from my home-

town with my mom and a friend of mine to go 

door-to-door canvassing in Bethlehem, PA — a 
swing city in a notorious swing state. We knew 

we had to get out the vote on the day that mat-
tered most. 

We drove back home around 5 p.m., mak-

ing it back in time for my political debate club’s 

election party. A mix of 20 juniors and seniors 

met at a club member’s house to eat good food, 

make predictions and hopefully celebrate our 

country’s first female president. Mostly every-

one there was a Hillary supporter, with the ex-

ception of one or two Trump supporters.

We ate goldfish and crackers while drinking 

sparkling apple cider, packed together on the 

couch and floor. We switched between news 

outlets in an attempt to get bipartisan coverage. 

Adrenaline filled the air as the results flooded 

back in, at first reporting positive signs. We 

were laughing and gossiping, unaware of what 

was to come. 

Suddenly, the returns from Florida started 

to tip in Trump’s favor. Dangerous. The room 

started to get a bit quieter, beside the over-

whelming joy coming from the Trump support-

ers. Most of us were very tense, sitting with our 

fists clenched as fear crept into our minds. 

He could win this thing. 

The betting odds on FiveThirtyEight re-

freshed to hit a new high — 80% in favor of 

Trump. I emailed my teacher on behalf of the 18 

of us, nervously typing:

“When should we start crying? We are pray-

ing for a miracle. Eighteen of your students are 

already in shambles, including me. We saw the 

latest 538 poll, and we are unstable.”

And as soon as it started to look like he was 

going to win Wisconsin, my friend Arik started 

his application into McGill, a university in Can-

ada — an action symbolizing his newfound de-

sire to leave the country. 

The fear grew stronger with each return 

update. It was getting late, and the situation 

was only getting worse by the second. Around 

11:15 p.m., I had my best friend Kyle drive me 

home — I didn’t want to cry in front of my 

peers. 

In the car, I got a CNN update that Trump 

had won Wisconsin. That put him over the 
edge of winning the Electoral College, and 

I knew it. I told Kyle to pull over as we ap-

proached a spot in our town that overlooks 

New York City. It’s usually a place of comfort 

for him and I, showing us how small we are 

on the grand scale of things. Tonight was dif-

ferent, though. Everything felt huge and scary. 

Once he put his car in park, he took a deep 

breath and looked at me. I began to weep. Ev-

erything we had fought for, everything we had 

hoped for was at risk. People’s rights were at 

risk. People’s lives were at risk. And 

instead of bigotry receiving its de-

served ending — defeat — Trump was 

being rewarded for his dehuman-

izing, vulgar, oppressive behavior. I 

looked at the city in front of me but 

could barely see out of my teary eyes. 

Even as Kyle held my hand and told 

me it would be OK, I didn’t know how 

it could be. 

After 10 minutes, Kyle dropped 

me off at home. The only possibil-

ity of Hillary coming back was with 

a deadlock. I once again emailed Mr. 

Raymond, holding onto any small 

shred of hope I had left. 

“There’s no chance even with 

Michigan?”

His reply said it all:

“Go to bed.”
I 

don’t talk about that day often. 

It hurts too much to relive it. I 

tried to piece the details back 

together as well as I could remem-

ber it, reaching out to Kyle to fill the 

gaps I missed. When texting him for 

answers, he responded with a suc-

cinct but all-telling “i’m sorry hahaha 

i blocked too much of that out.” It 

seems a lot of us did. 

As much as I’d like to forget the 

darkness of that night, its effects lin-

ger everyday with the aftermath of 

living under a Trump presidency. 

Multiple sexual assault allegations. 

An impeachment. Continuous sup-

port of hate groups. Xenophobic leg-

islation. The furthering of a white na-

tionalist agenda. Dehumanizing, disgraceful 

rhetoric. Perpetual lies. Science denial. Crimi-

nalizing dissent. A failure to acknowledge or 

handle a global pandemic. A catalyst of hun-

dreds of thousands of innocent deaths. 

This is just the beginning — I can’t even try 

to create an all-encompassing list of the un-

acceptable things Trump has done in the last 

four years. The rage and distress I feel is in-

describable. And the anxiety surrounding the 

upcoming election is unavoidable. A weight of 

helplessness lies on my shoulders as I wait for 

Nov. 3, praying to anyone and anything that 

we vote him out.

It would be easy to give into those feelings, 

especially when it felt like all of my efforts to 

elect Hillary in 2016 were done for nothing. 

But I know that’s the attitude that results in 

complacency. We must keep pushing, even 

when at our most cynical. I may not be opti-

mistic, but I believe in actionable change. I 

will do everything in my power to help shape 

a better future.

Election Day 2020 needs to end differently 

than it did in 2016.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Wednesday, October 28, 2020 — 11
statement

BY ANDIE HOROWITZ, STATEMENT DEPUTY EDITOR

ILLUSTRATION BY EILEEN KELLY

We’ve been through this before: 
When 2020 feels like 2016

