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After the 2024 national election results were finalized, I joked I would just move out of the United States for the next four years because I was close to graduation. However, with each day that passes, I am starting to realize this is no joking matter. Last week, my mom texted me with urgency, reminding me to have my ID on me at all times. Suddenly, the weight of what the next four years of my life in the U.S. would look like as a woman of color sunk in.
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Policing myself because of the color of my skin is nothing new. I mean, on my first day of kindergarten, I became best friends with someone because we wore the same skin color, and we followed each other around throughout high school. I acknowledge that the Biden administration was flawed and that Democrats failed to secure protections that are being stripped away now. Yet everything feels a bit more hopeless.
“More than anything, staying and fighting for my rights and making sure that my story, culture and community aren’t being erased is extremely important for me and the future I want my younger cousins and future family members to be able to live in.”
I understand the somewhat complicated history of who I have become and how I came to be a person who grew up in the San Luis Valley. I have had the privilege of receiving an education, challenged to do just about whatever I want to do. I was raised to speak perfect English and know how to engage in intellectual conversations.
As a woman of color, I can say that I am fearful for what my future holds, and leaving the U.S. for four years is still at the front of my mind — that way I can come back to a place that I call home with a president who best matches my beliefs.
But the fear of leaving for four years and leaving those I love behind because I have the means to do so is similar to what held me back from leaving Colorado four years ago. More than anything, staying and fighting for my rights and making sure that my story, culture and community aren’t being erased is extremely important for me and the future I want my younger cousins and future family members to be able to live in.
So rather than fear, I propose hope, joy and community. When I remember that my grandmother had more rights than I do now, especially when it comes to abortion rights and women’s rights, I use it as an opportunity to learn from past advocates. I remember to care for myself first and my community next. I remember that I cannot allow myself to feel overwhelmed. Instead, we must love each other and stay focused.
I am not sure exactly what my next move will be, but as I continue to finish my college career, I am beginning to understand more that I can’t hide from the realities that have been put in front of me — in fact, none of us can. Rather, I need to try to use my knowledge and minimal power I have to try to advocate for others. That has been my best solution in trying to cope with the current political climate that we live in.
Reach Dominique Lopez at letters@collegian.com or on Twitter @caffeinateddee6.
