Column: Black women say they're exhausted after election, but won't give up activism

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Days after the presidential election, Kelley Glover started having nightmares that would jolt her from sleep. Her subconscious conjured large monsters that were chasing people. But she did nothing to help them escape to safety. She looked on with sadness from a distance. 

“They weren’t after me – they were going after everybody else,” Glover said of the creatures in her dreams. “I was just sitting there witnessing it and shaking my head.”

It became clear to the 55-year-old Pflugerville, Texas, resident that she needed to let go of some of the angst she had experienced since the early morning hours of Nov. 6, when news outlets projected that former President Donald Trump had defeated Vice President Kamala Harris in the race for president.

She is meditating again after years of neglecting the practice. She and friends are walking 8 miles on weekends. She is part of a drum circle that discusses how music can help heal the trauma stuck in our bodies. She’s watching more “House Hunters” on HGTV.  

“I'm feeling a little bit of joy again because I released it,” said Glover, who works at the nearby University of Texas-Austin as an instructional coach and mentor to future educators. “I've just had to unplug to find my joy and my grounding again because that election took me out.”

Like millions of other Black women, Glover felt deep dismay as polls closed across the country and key states were being called for Trump. 

Many of them didn’t expect the outcome, especially given the Harris campaign's apparent momentum. It raised over $1 billion in three months; held rallies that attracted upwards of 75,000 people each; notched an eviscerating debate performance; gathered high-profile celebrity endorsements; and planted Harris-Walz lawn signs, even in conservative enclaves.

“When the results came down that night and the next day, we were all just flabbergasted because we did not just feel like she was going to win – we knew she was going to win,” Vanessa “Vee” Richardson, 58, of Ashburn, Virginia, told me. “We just didn’t feel like she could lose.”

There was an energy that many described feeling only one other time – in 2008, when Barack Obama was nominated for the nation’s highest office and became America’s first Black president.

“We were going to have another victory party,” Glover said of a potential Harris win. “We were going to celebrate another slice of beautiful history.” 

Let me get this out of the way quickly. I don’t profess to speak for all Black women. And in no capacity could I interview every Black woman in America about their thoughts and feelings regarding the presidential election.

Not all Black women are like-minded. What I am presenting is a sampling of the sentiment and voices I encountered from various regions of the country over the past several weeks.

And many of them are exhausted.

'Rest and reset and recharge and realign'

In the aftermath of the presidential election, some of the Black women I talked with have pledged to take time for self-care, to work through their frustrations with healthy habits and to set clear emotional boundaries.

Social media hashtags, shared by politically active women in particular, have popped up, including: #blackwomenrest #enoughisenough #getsomebodyelsetodoit and #notourproblem.  

This mindset may mean added yoga classes for some. A book binge for others. Or simply granting oneself permission to shed the guilt of saying “no” when asked to volunteer for political or social justice causes.

“Right now, it's really about us regrouping before he enters that White House, and getting the time to rest and reset and recharge and realign,” 47-year-old Aurora, Colorado, resident and social justice activist Candice Bailey told me. “I think that's really important for us.” 

Black women have long been the Democratic Party’s most loyal and active voting bloc. They knock on doors. They join phone banks to text and call potential voters. And they consistently show up at the polls and organize voter mobilization plans to ensure others do, too. In the last three presidential election cycles, Black women have overwhelmingly voted to keep Trump out of office. This year, roughly 92% of them voted for Harris, according to exit polls.

They say it’s been difficult to process how so many people could selfishly vote for a man who has 34 felony convictions. A man who has a history of belittling and sexually harassing women. A man who elevates racism, xenophobia, misogyny and transphobia. A man who tried to subvert the 2020 presidential election and incited an insurrection. A man who spreads lies and conspiracy theories to vulnerable Americans.

More so, they see Trump as a man who has the plans and the will to trounce on the civil and human rights of our neighbors. This existential threat doesn’t sit well with women who embrace the calling to be advocates, allies or social justice warriors – not just for Black people, but for all people.

“At my stage in life, and I say this humbly, I don't foresee many things that are going to change my status – as a woman, to my career, to my finances,” Tameria Warren, a 44-year-old Columbia, South Carolina resident told me. “The next four years may not impact me, but I'm concerned. What does this mean for our environment as it relates to climate change? What does this mean for those who are in college, in high school, or those who have children and the quality of their education? As they're dismantling DEI and critical race theory, what does this mean for individuals in the workforce looking for different opportunities or hoping to be treated fairly? What does this mean for immigrants – are they going to be able to stay in this country?

“When I look at elections, I really don’t look at what it means for me, but what does it look like for us as a whole,” said Warren, an environmental engineer for a Fortune 500 company and an environmental studies professor at the University of South Carolina. 

“I’m worried.”

'I don't care about the little blue bracelet you wear'

Black women comprise about 7% of the population. And they have every right to feel disheartened and disillusioned by Trump's re-election. Harris wasn’t their choice just because she, too, is a Black woman. They didn’t turn out in droves simply because of her gender or racial identity, as some Trump loyalists insist. To suggest such is ignorant and shortsighted.

Harris ran on uplifting the middle class, not identity politics. She didn’t harp on the fact that she was a woman and a woman of color. If we’re being honest, such a move would have harmed her campaign – not helped it.

“It comes down to what values do we have for this country,” Warren told me. “I think as we're having this conversation post-election and moving forward, a lot of the emphasis doesn't necessarily need to be why 92% of Black women voted how they did. I think it’s time for others to start having a come-to-Jesus moment on why they chose to vote the way they did.” 

Black women embraced Harris’s messaging and proposals around affordable housing, reproductive rights, economic and employment opportunities, protected freedoms for the marginalized, sustainable health care, tax cuts for middle class families, clean energy, and equality and inclusiveness.

“Her stances on a woman’s right to choose, closing the income gap between the rich and the poor and helping small businesses were all things that were important to me and my friends,” Glover told me. “She had the experience as the vice president of the United States, and she seemed to genuinely want to help the little people.”

Harris wasn’t offering a radical transformation of America. But her appeal to many Black women voters included her empathy, decency and their belief that she would honor the office of president with dignity. 

All the more reason people like JeDonna Dinges, a 61-year-old metro Detroit e-commerce retailer who knocked on door after door for Harris, were dismayed to see a majority of white women pick Trump for president. 

“White women get a no-confidence vote from me,” Dinges said. “I have given up. How many times do they have to show us who they are? They voted by basically the same margins. This is not a fluke. This is not a one-off. Now there’s so much hand wringing and so much pearl clutching.”

Some white women – of whom about 53% voted for Trump, according to exit polls – seem equally dismayed that they are being described in certain circles as electoral weak links and scapegoats for the outcome of the election. 

Since the early hours of Nov. 6, when Trump was projected to win, there has been pushback by millions of white women who wanted to make it clear they were not the ones who helped him regain the presidency: What about the Latinos who voted for Trump? What about the Black men? 

It’s the defensive arguments and finger pointing on social media and in personal conversations that have exacerbated an already disappointing experience for those who worked to mobilize voters and those who for decades have played a crucial role in hoisting Democrats to office.  

Yes, we know white women voted for Harris. We also know the majority voted for Trump. Numbers don’t lie. So naturally there is chatter among some who feel betrayed and want to hold them accountable for their complicity.

“So much of this allyship is performative, and I am just tired,” Dinges told me. “After George Floyd was killed, they put out a Black Lives Matter sign, or they changed the profile picture on their Facebook page to a black square. You drive by those homes now and the Black Lives Matter signs are gone.”

Since the election, there’s been a movement among some white women to wear blue friendship bracelets as a way to broadcast that they did not vote for Trump, that they are allies and that a safe space exists among them for marginalized people who want to air their fears and grievances.  

“I think it's just propaganda,” Bailey told me. “I don't care about the little blue bracelet you wear, because you can take that off. I cannot take this skin suit off that I was born in.” 

'I told you so'

It’s almost been too easy for Black women to say, ‘We told you so’ – even weeks before Trump is officially sworn into office. Take the president-elect’s cabinet nominations, which  have been fraught with controversy, including at least four who have been embroiled in sexual misconduct allegations. 

Former Florida Rep. Matt Gaetz, Fox News personality Pete Hegseth, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and Linda McMahon – Trump’s picks for attorney general, defense secretary, health and human services secretary and education secretary, respectively, have all denied the claims. Gaetz withdrew himself from consideration on Nov. 21, as it became clear Senate confirmation was doomed.

But women, in particular, are paying close attention to Trump’s early decision-making. They’re not surprised by the overall chaos and questionable ethics.

“I don't necessarily think that the people who voted for him would even admit that they were wrong,” said Khelsey Gamble, a 27-year-old Dallas resident. “So us saying to them, ‘I told you so’ doesn't mean anything to them. They're just stuck in this perpetual cycle of cognitive dissonance. And the idolatry that they have for this man needs to be studied, because nothing that he does is wrong to them. So we could literally see and say, ‘Hey, he's holding a gun to your head.’ And they would respond, ‘No, he's not.’”

Trump’s potential cabinet also lacks Black representation – despite his pandering on the campaign trail to attract Black voters. 

For weeks, as Trump rolled out dozens of potential appointees, not one Black person was nominated. His woeful performance finally ended Nov. 22, when he selected Scott Turner, a former NFL star, to lead the Department of Housing and Urban Development. Still, no Black women are included among Trump's picks.

“Look at the cabinet he’s putting forth,” Richardson said. “There’s just a clear allegiance to white male supremacy.” 

'Resilience is absolutely coded in our DNA'

“While I may be the first woman in this office, I will not be the last. Because every little girl watching tonight sees that this is a country of possibilities. And to the children of our country, regardless of your gender, our country has sent you a clear message: Dream with ambition. Lead with conviction. See yourselves in a way that others may not, simply because they have never seen it before.”

Those were the words of Harris on Nov. 7, 2020. Speaking from Wilmington, Delaware, that historic evening, she became the first Black person, South Asian and woman elected vice president of the United States.

In a powerful moment, she acknowledged the “Black women who are too often overlooked, but so often prove they are the backbone of our democracy.” 

It’s a charge in the social and political arena that isn’t taken lightly. And it’s one filled with history.

Prior to the ratification of the 19th Amendment, Black women worked tirelessly for universal suffrage – even as their right to vote wasn’t guaranteed across the country until the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. They also helped galvanize the Civil Rights Movement and its effort to end legalized segregation and racial discrimination.

“They want us to be happy with what we've been handed through slavery,” said Richardson, who is employed as a recruiter for a technology firm. “This started in 1619, when we came here, we were always taking care of everyone but ourselves. We were always leading the way. We breastfed their babies and took care of them and raised them, while working in the fields and in the house. People should read a history book.”

I’ll help. Let’s say their names: Harriet Tubman. Sojourner Truth. Rosa Parks. Fannie Lou Hamer. Mamie Till-Mobley. Ida B. Wells. Dorothy Height. Shirley Chisholm.

As a country, we continue to stand on the shoulders of these women. We also stand on the shoulders of nameless Black women activists and those who are politically and socially engaged. Because Black women have embraced their roles as leaders in our families and communities. We grind for worthy candidates during political campaigns and vote in record numbers, in part, because former generations have instilled in us the history of activism. We will work longer and harder because it’s often required in a world where racism, discrimination and misogyny exist. 

And knowing that history helps Black women channel their feelings of disgust and anger at the outcome of this election into positive movement forward.

Richardson and Bailey say they are going to focus on local elections. 

 “This whole experience has uplifted me to the point where I feel like I'm invincible in getting women pipelined to run for office and to win – that's my whole goal,” Richardson told me. “I'm busy, but this is a priority for me. I'm going to identify, recruit, train, mentor and guide these women to win going forward in Loudoun County.”

Added Bailey: “No matter what the situation is, there is a resilience in the Black woman that says we must come together, and we must figure out how to support our community. And I think that is something that I'm doubling down on here in Colorado.” 

 The dichotomy for so many of these women: rest and self-nurturing or action and community-building. It can and should be both, Gamble said. 

“Resilience is absolutely coded in our DNA,” said Gamble, who works in finance for Kia. “I think what would be beneficial is for people who still have that desire to fight is to take a step back for a little while, and then once they're regulated and they're ... out of this current fight or flight mode, that's when they start to organize.”

It’s that mix of weariness and determination that Black women discussed around the Thanksgiving table with family and friends. Rest may be required. But permanent inaction is unacceptable. 

Because Trump has made promises – including using federal dollars to eliminate diversity, equity and inclusion efforts in government programs and lessons about race, gender or sexual orientation in schools – that could prove disastrous for future generations.

“We are going to pick ourselves up, using the strength of our ancestors, and we're just going to keep pushing forward,” Glover told me.

Like many women I’ve interviewed for this column, I believe this country needs to reset its moral compass. 

And while we wait, at least for now, some Black women say they intend to rest.

“We care about everybody – we're willing to put our cape on and protect and save everybody,” Dinges said. “We keep showing up. And now we are tired.” 

Suzette Hackney is a national columnist. Reach her on X:@suzyscribe