The 2024 election wasn’t just a political defeat for me; it felt like a deeply personal betrayal. As an immigrant, politics have always been interwoven within my identity. I was born during the election of America’s first Black president, took my first steps to the soundtrack of “Yes We Can” and learned to read during Obama’s reelection campaign — a time when hope felt like a tangible force shaping the world. Volunteering for Vice President Kamala Harris’ campaign felt like the continuation of that promise — Hundreds of hours spent on calls, events and advocacy left me certain that progress was not just possible but inevitable.

That belief shattered when the election results came in. For Former President Trump to win again felt like a rejection of the ideals I’ve worked so hard to uphold. But worse than that was realizing how many people I trusted — friends, neighbors, even relatives — chose to cast their votes for him. Knowing that some of them are women or immigrants like me, people who should understand the stakes, made the betrayal sting even deeper.

This is not a disagreement over policy. Trump’s agenda — mass deportations, reinstating “Remain in Mexico” and stripping DACA protections — is a direct threat to families like mine. For over 600,000 Dreamers, ending DACA means losing the ability to work, study and live in the only country they’ve ever called home. These young people, teachers, engineers and entrepreneurs represent the best of America, yet their futures hang by a thread. According to the Center for American Progress, ending DACA would strip over $460 billion from the economy, a self-inflicted wound fueled by cruelty.

For women and immigrants who supported Trump, Pew Research suggests the appeal often lies in his economic promises or conservatism. But these votes come at a cost — a cost paid by families like mine. The choice to endorse such policies feels like a tacit acceptance of systemic dehumanization. It hurts to think that those closest to me might value ideology over empathy.

Still, I am proud of the work I did with Harris’s campaign. Seeing her as the first female Vice President — someone I met and fought to elect — gave me a tangible connection to history. Even in defeat, I know that activism matters. It creates ripples, even when the results aren’t what you wanted.

This election left scars. Grief is natural when progress falters, when people you love choose a vision of America that denies your existence. That grief is valid. Yet grief must lead to action.

If this election has taught me anything, it’s that change begins with accountability. We must demand policies that protect marginalized communities and hold leaders accountable for divisive agendas. We must amplify the voices of those silenced by fear or policy. And above all, we must act. Hope is not passive; it’s a phone call, a march, a vote. It’s choosing, every day, to fight for an America that lives up to its promises. Progress isn’t always a straight line, but it’s always worth the fight.