Hope in the face of cynicism, cynicism in the face of hope.

It’s ironic that the presidency of Barack Obama, whose election was fueled by a surge of hope for the future and motivation to work towards progress, will end with many of his supporters feeling perched on the precipice of a cesspit of despair.

I don’t need to tell you that Obama’s successor is a sexist, racist troll. I don’t need to tell you that Trump is either too stupid or too callous to stop himself from recklessly tweeting about expanding our nuclear capabilities, or that he insists on ignoring the shared conclusion of multiple US intelligence agencies that Russia’s government orchestrated interference into the US election in order to help him win, trying to deflect the blame onto anyone but himself. His online presence, which is nearly the only way he makes public statements, is that of an out-of-touch armchair political commentator who can barely be bothered to form a real opinion, let alone inform himself of the facts about the issue. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, if he were merely a washed up reality TV star and shady businessman, and not about to become president of the United States.

He has a made a habit of blatantly ignoring the law, ignoring the facts, ignoring criticism and consequences. “How can he do this?” we all wonder. The answer is he just does it. He just proceeds, where someone else with an ounce of sanity and regard for decency would pause and apply restraint. He gets away with it, possibly because we’re all so shocked that he would even do it in the first place. He tramples on decades of precedent, from refusing to release his tax returns to ordering all US ambassadors appointed by President Obama to leave their posts by inauguration day, showing that he doesn’t care about how our society currently functions, and that he’s perfectly willing to act outside our established norms if he believes it benefits him.

In short, he is terrible. I could say so many other things about why he is terrible. But he isn’t the only problem. Republicans in Congress are all too willing to fall in line behind him to save their own skins from the wrath of his supporters, or because they think it will benefit them to get on his good side, regardless of whatever “deeply held” beliefs they have. The millions of people who voted for him (a minority, but enough that the flawed electoral system we use made him the winner) are either rabidly in support of him, or hope that whatever he accomplishes will align with their conflicting desires. They all ignore the horrendous things he’s said (and probably done), because they’ve decided that the prospect of bringing manufacturing jobs back, or building a giant wall, is more important than having a president who understands there’s a problem with sexually assaulting people. They are willing to ignore facts that are backed by solid, provable evidence, even evidence that shows him directly contradicting himself about important issues. They do this because they like the idea that he will fulfill whichever campaign promise it is that appeals to them. Even if he has presented no plan or evidence that he can/will fulfill those promises, it probably feels good to assume that, like some kind of cheeto-colored genie, he will deliver on everything they want.

This is why it is so hard to have hope right now.

One of the words commonly used in 2016 was “post-truth”. This is one of the most frightening things to emerge from the election, in my opinion: the idea that provable, observable facts don’t matter, and that all opinions are given equal weight regardless of what evidence exists to back them up. I fear that if we accept the idea of living in a “post-truth” world, we will never recover from it. Scientists and others who attempt to demonstrate with observable, testable evidence that what they say is reality will never be taken seriously, because the reality they’re trying to educate people about is unpleasant. We will exist in a society where the statement that people like the most, or that makes them the angriest, will be accepted as true simply because more people are emotional about it. As a scientist and a progressive, I’m not only despondent, I’m afraid. I feel as though I’m watching our country collectively stick their heads in the sand on issues like climate change and globalization. I’m watching pro-choice women and men who voted for Trump close their eyes to the consequences of having a president who doesn’t care about women’s reproductive rights and a Congress controlled by people who actively seek to dismantle women’s access to reproductive healthcare (despite clear evidence that comprehensive sex education and easily accessible birth control lowers the rate of teen pregnancy and abortion).

Another irony: Margaret Atwood’s novel The Handmaid’s Tale, which is about a dystopian, theocratic Christian version of the US where women are literally male-owned commodities based on their fertility, is being made into a TV series that will air later this year. The irony is that it will air only a few months after the inauguration of a president whose actions and words have made it clear that he views women as disposable sexual objects, and a vice president who probably thinks that what’s described in The Handmaid’s Tale doesn’t sound like such a bad society to live in. The story is one that is especially relevant right now, but I fear that it will do nothing to convince people to change their views and votes, like so many other well-laid arguments.

What is there to do, then? One of the reasons why the aftermath of this election has felt so devastating is because it seems like we have taken a giant leap backwards. Our country isn’t perfect, and there was much work yet to be done before the election; we still needed to increase our use of renewable energy, make healthcare available and affordable to everyone, give everyone access to family paid leave, affordable childcare, and affordable education. But before the election it seemed like we were in a reasonable position to tackle those issues in the near future. It seemed like gains in those areas were within reach, and that people were coming around to the idea of progressive reforms. Now, not only are those items no longer on the agenda, but the people in power are actively working against making those ideas a reality. The consequences of Trump’s presidency plus a Republican-controlled Congress will be years of damage control before we can even start addressing what was once our progressive agenda, and that’s assuming that Democrats won’t drop the ball yet again and Trump/the Republicans won’t find some way to enshrine their regressive values so deeply that we can’t undo them.

As a Millenial, my political awareness began with George W. Bush’s presidency. As long as I’ve been paying attention, I’ve watched Republicans start costly, deadly wars, fight against the rights of historically oppressed people, and stand in the way of regulation as the economy crumbled and young people’s future prospects became bleak across the board. I’ve watched as they stonewalled President Obama every step of the way, neutering his efforts to bring about meaningful change, and now I’ve seen how their obstructionism and vitriol have succeeded in giving them most of the power. Is it surprising at all that I am filled with cynicism?

The prospect of moving to another country that has their shit figured out is very appealing (and I do recognize that it’s my privilege that allows me to even entertain this idea), both because I’m not expecting much progress from the US and because I feel alienated by the people in power and those who voted for them. The US doesn’t feel like my country anymore, because every notion I have of what should be used to decide policy and dialogue seems under attack. I don’t have much hope. But right now, I also have no idea what else to do other than keep working towards progressive goals. It feels like a losing battle, and I’m worried that by staying here I will be resigning myself to a life where my rights as a woman and a political dissident are under fire, and that no matter what, any future children I have will be brought into a world of economic hardship and climate catastrophe. Beyond that, it seems that our society as a whole will become much more hostile to people of color, queer and transgender people, and those without the means to pay for a better life for themselves. But what else is there to do? So I will try to drum up as much enthusiasm as I can muster and keep fighting. I’m not sure if this is hope. But whatever it is, it will have to do.

(Featured image: sunset in Berkeley.)