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Tuesday night was rough for people like Martha. After a whirlwind summer and fall, the "joy" of a "new way forward" all dripped slowly away as the counting marched on in Pennsylvania. On Wednesday she woke up in a daze.
Martha is in her twenties, or maybe thirties, and lives alone with her two cats. She has a career she's proud of, although her job consists mostly of forwarding emails, and she spends a lot of her work day posting on social media. She posts memes, selfies, all the usual stuff. She thinks of herself as a 9 but is really more like a 6. She gets matches for hookups on Bumble but nobody's taken her on a real date in years.
After being a luke-warm Hillary supporter in 2016, she went all in on Kamala this time around. Here was a candidate who put women's bodies at the center of her campaign, who married at age 49 to a guy who supports her career, who was friends with Beyonce. She finally felt seen.
Work was a drag on Wednesday. Most of Martha's colleagues share her demographics and her politics, and they were all in a bit of a daze. By the time she arrived home at her apartment, she didn't know what to feel or what to do with herself.
She was even more unsure when a man slightly older than her in a red MAGA hat knocked on her door.
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