The 2024 U.S. presidential election has become more personal to me—more personally threatening—than any other in my lifetime.

It took 60-some years for me to experience such a threat, thanks to a boatload of advantages I haven’t really earned: I’m white, college-educated, often mistaken for cis male. As a result, I’ve had the liberty to make voting decisions on “objective,” “rational” criteria, which here means criteria removed from my own experience. I read about the candidates, weigh their positions, get a sense of how they think, choose one. It’s not a bad approach per se. But I employ it at a certain distance.

Now comes 2024, and one aspect of my life—my status as a nonbinary person—is under attack.

Recently The Atlantic, AP news, and other sources have reported on Donald Trump’s rhetoric and plans for trans people.*** Because some of my friends may dismiss these sources as “liberal media,” I web-searched to see if I could find the same plans coming from Trump’s own lips. I did. Here’s what I found in two videos featuring Trump himself:

• He plans to call on Congress “to pass a bill establishing that the only genders recognized by the United States government are male and female, and they are assigned at birth.”  (This pledge begins at 00:15 into the video.)
• He has pledged to direct “every federal agency to cease all programs that promote the concept of sex and gender transition at any age” (begins at 00:26 into the video).
• He has said that transgender was never heard of “in all of human history” until “the radical left invented it just a few years ago” (untrue), and he pledged that “under my leadership, this madness will end” (begins at 00:55 into the video).

So if Donald Trump wins back the presidency, my own government may well cease to recognize me, or at least an essential truth about me. Being trans or nonbinary will suddenly become “less than,” or “less tolerated.” It’s easier to openly take negative stances against people in such circumstances. That can have consequences: as we’ve seen, some of Trump’s followers take his words and actions as license to commit violence against those not in his favor.

Granted, the risk to me is probably not high. But my trans friends and relatives may be more in harm’s way—whether the threat is to their personal safety or their access to needed services like healthcare and housing. So the 2024 election could reshape my own life and those of people I love.

It took this wakeup call to get me thinking of people and groups for whom every election is personal—and personally threatening. How they’ve lived with such a threat all these years, I have no idea.

What about the rest of you? What’s your experience of taking elections personally?
 

***Footnote: The line between trans and nonbinary is fuzzier than it used to be, which is why I feel justified in taking this personally. I seriously doubt Trump knows the difference.

Late last year, in a town about 90 minutes from us, a house exploded--really exploded. People felt it 40 miles away. Investigators found that an accidental gas leak caused the explosion.

​My first thought when I heard the news? Meth lab.

I know precious little about that town, let alone the house or its residents. There are millions more U.S. homes fueled with natural gas than there are drug labs (yes, I checked). So what the hell was I thinking?

I was thinking the way many folks think these days: assume the worst.

Consider the beliefs and stereotypes you hear from people assuming the worst. Doctors who order tests are just padding their bills. People who favor controls on immigration are racists. Businesses care about nothing but the bottom line. Scientists skew their research conclusions to please their grantors.

It’s true that, for each of the above statements, there are a few scoundrels. But too many people believe that everyone’s a scoundrel in a given category. Look how many human institutions (government, science, and the military, to name three) are no longer viewed with trust by large swaths of the populace.

There are problems with assuming the worst. For one thing, it’s flat-out inaccurate. I’ve met scientists who conduct research with the highest integrity, CEOs who care deeply about global concerns, doctors who are not padding their bills but using new and better tests to deliver better care. For another thing, when I assume bad intent, I can’t view the person I’m talking with as a unique being, with a unique perspective. I’ll learn little or nothing from the conversation.

In contrast, when I assume good intent, my heart opens. I’m suddenly attentive to whatever this person has to say. I may hear something that counters my hidden stereotypes or at least adds nuance to my thinking. Best of all, I’m open to a new or deeper bond.

Assuming good intent can also help us process the news. Yes, reporters and their employers have biases, and those biases may color their reporting. But what if we started by assuming that the reporter is trying to present the facts as they’ve uncovered them in their investigation? There’s time to factor in bias later, as we reflect on what’s before us.

Two other things about assuming good intent:

1. It’s not easy—especially not in today’s cynical public square. Cultivating it, from my perspective, requires both practice on our part and help from whoever/whatever lives in the depths of our hearts (God, Spirit, the Universe, whatever name you use).
2. Skepticism has its uses. If you’re facing someone who’s wounded you, or a news outlet you know well, your experience can help you filter what you’re hearing in a healthy, boundary-protecting way. But if this is your first go-round with someone/something, you have to start somewhere, and good intent is a happier place if nothing else.

What about you? Like me, you’ve probably done your share of both, good and bad intent. What is each one like for you? 

Yesterday, New Year’s Day, around 7:00 a.m., I gazed out the high window in our family room (as usual) and found a clear sky (not usual). It promised pink and blue later in the day but wasn’t there yet. I’d spent the week beforehand in an intensive at-home retreat, and I hadn’t noticed the unremitting gray skies that are more typical of our region. Still, the early morning clarity was a delightful surprise.

I’d like to cherish clarity and beauty, and wisdom, and delightful surprises as they come this year—and if they’re blogworthy, I’ll share them. They’ll likely mix with more difficult posts, because 2024 looks to be a difficult year for so many of us. Some topics will tread on sensitive ground, and I will do my best to handle with care. Some posts may seem political, but politics will (in most cases) not be the point; rather, I’ll use the political landscape to address a larger, more universal question.
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As I said a while back, I have no clue how often I’ll post here. One thing I do know: I’d love to have you join me on this journey. One person’s thoughts can only go so far. Many people’s thoughts can do much more. And if we get to enjoy some clarity and beauty along the way, so much the better.