My loves,

Today will be one of those days that will be seared in my memory. Someday you will probably read about today in history books. Two of you will be too young to remember, and yet, there is so much I want you to know.

You won’t remember how I snuggled next to you last night as you fell asleep and sent a silent prayer into the universe to protect you. You won’t remember the midnight tears as I realized a Harris/Walz win was unlikely. The way your dad held me and told me, “The girls will be okay. We will be safe. We can keep them safe,” and how that only made the tears flow more freely knowing that we are the lucky ones. You won’t remember how I held you just a little tighter and a little bit longer this morning when you climbed into our bed or my silent tears on the drive to daycare this morning as we listened to “The Flower” by Michael Franti and you sang along. How I cried on my drive to work knowing that the rights your grandma, her generation, and those before her fought so hard to gain for women, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community may be quickly stripped away, and you could grow up not knowing any different.

And it is not lost on me that we are the lucky ones. Lucky to live in a state that protects the rights of people with a uterus to make decisions about their own bodies, that affirms our LGBTQIA+ community, that believes in common sense gun control, that has access to high quality healthcare, that values the rich tapestry of ethnicities and cultures that call Minnesota home, that acknowledges the stolen lands we live upon, and so much more. Your dad and I are lucky to have been born to middle class parents who supported our goals and had the means to help us achieve them. We are white, cisgender, heterosexual, middle-aged adults who American society won’t give a second thought to accepting. And while we don’t yet know your sexual orientation or whether you are gender conforming, you have the privilege of whiteness and socioeconomic status to cushion you out in the world and a safe place to come home to where you will always be loved and accepted. Your dad and I have always told you our first job as parents is to love you well and keep you safe, and that is a promise we would do anything to protect.

And yet, I mourn with those without our privilege. Nothing but luck gave us the privilege of being born into these bodies and circumstances, and my heart breaks knowing that others do not have the same built-in safety net that we do. Over 72 million people in our country voted for a man who spews hatred and misogyny toward anyone who threatens his power or doesn’t fit his narrative and agenda. I still can’t believe it’s true. I fear the humanity, mental health, and livelihood of historically marginalized peoples, which have always been impacted by systemic oppression, implicit bias, and covert bigotry, is about to come under a very intentional, explicit, and ugly government-sanctioned public attack.

And so there is a reckoning. What comes next? Where will our story go?

What I hope you do remember is how your dad and I raised you in love and service towards others … to see the humanity and goodness in the people you encounter … to be brave and show up wholeheartedly … to wield the power you have to continue to bend the moral arc of the universe toward justice. I hope you remember how we not only spoke, but lived our values. How we took action to secure and protect your rights and the rights of all individuals. How we participated in civil discourse with others, especially those with different views than us. How we continued to build bridges, not walls. How we welcomed, rather than turned away or locked up. And above all, may we instill in you an unabating hope and drive toward a more just future, where all really and truly means all.

My darlings, you are so loved and always will be.

Mama

Justine Trueblood, formerly of Webster City, lives in Rochester, Minnesota.