Harvesting Wisdom: Reflections on Resilience, Liberation, & Hope Post-Election
I had a lot I need to explore in this one, y’all! So, it is fair to say this is more of an essay than a blog post. For those of us who just don’t have the capacity to read long passages of text, I took the liberty of uploading this post into Notebook LM so that you could engage with my words in an AI podcast. Note that I cannot change the speech of the AI-generated hosts, but take it as a practice in imagining a world where we are all liberated beyond the binary. Imagine them as aspiring allies;) Click here to listen, and let me know if it was helpful!
TLDR: I explore the disappointment and resilience felt by the Black community following Vice President Kamala Harris's election loss, emphasizing the continued systemic barriers Black women face. Despite the collective grief and anger, there is still hope and resistance. I criticize symbolic allyship that lacks meaningful impact and advocates for challenging systems of White supremacy and embracing collective liberation. Unity is key, and intra-community conflicts must be avoided.
I highlight the need for transformative spaces—such as my upcoming 3D Power Retreats—where Black women can rest, heal, and grow. These hybrid retreats are an extension of my dissertation on Black female identity development in online spaces, providing environments for shared reflection and growth. Ultimately, I call for collective healing and urge us to transform pain into beauty through continued resistance and creative expression.
This is for my sisters, with love. For those of us navigating this complex reality, holding space for both our pain and our hope.
I have always believed in the power of amplifying silenced voices as a means to connect, heal, and transform. As a Black woman, this belief is personal. My dissertation focused on Black female identity development in online spaces, where I found that these platforms can serve as sanctuaries—places to foster critical consciousness, informal learning, and identity formation. This vision of creating transformative spaces for Black women continues to guide my work today. Through immersive experiences, I aim to cultivate environments where we can rest, reflect, and grow—where we can articulate what we've always felt but struggled to express.
Quotes and reflections from marginalized voices are not just words; they are testimonies and battle cries. They carry stories of those who have endured the harshest intersections of life, offering wisdom that helps us make sense of our world. This meaning-making is vital, especially now, as we face the aftermath of the recent election.
The reflections shared by Black women and allies reveal our grief, anger, and exhaustion but also highlight our resilience. Despite deferred dreams, we continue to carry hope and resistance—a dream that refuses to be silenced. In this post, I want to explore the insights, stories, and emotions that have emerged within our community, weaving them with my own research and experiences.
Disappointment & Resilience Post-Election
Vice President Kamala Harris’ defeat in this election hit hard for so many of us. It wasn’t just the loss of a candidate—it was a reminder of the systemic barriers we still face. Laynae Vanee expressed it well:
America did not choose a Black woman. Go figure racism was on the ballot and y'all chose it. But I think many of us experienced heartbreak because you let us hope, knowing that identifying with the hope that lives within us, that sliver of light bursting through the cracks. The hedge protection that guards our hearts makes us vulnerable. It requires we tap into our softness; knowing this world has never let us be just a girl.
Jasmine Walker put it simply: “Vice President Kamala Harris’s loss to former President Donald Trump feels like a crushing blow or, if I’m being honest, a slap in the face.” For Black women, this election was about more than politics; it was about representation, validation, and the hope of finally shattering that elusive glass ceiling.
Furthermore, Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott's words spoke to the harm amongst Black people, collectively:
It is really on my heart this morning to say that as a man, but more importantly as a Black man, that this country does not deserve Black women or Black people, but specifically Black women...This morning, I woke up and I just gave my wife a hug because I know how heavy this is weighing on Black women. And they have carried this country and saved this country too many times and continue to be the most disrespected human beings on the planet. And it, quite frankly, it disgusts me.
What Mayor Scott speaks to is a righteous rage that so many of us felt. Despite this, Vice President Kamala Harris’s concession speech tempered rage and instead highlighted the power of hope:
On the campaign, I would often say when we fight, we win. But here's the thing, sometimes the fight takes a while. That doesn't mean we won't win. The important thing is don't ever give up. Don't ever stop trying to make the world a better place. You have power. You have power. And don't you ever listen when anyone tells you something is impossible because it has never been done before.
These words echo a historical perspective of American culture that is deeply committed to anti-Blackness, which is the foundation for all other forms of bigotry and hatred. As Erica L. Green and Maya King wrote, “America has revealed to us her true self, and we have to decide what we do with her from here.” This collective reckoning with the reality of America’s current state is both painful and necessary as we design a pathway forward.
Control & White Supremacy
Ericka Hart’s Instagram reel dissected the underlying motivations of White women who voted for Donald Trump, stating, “They’re not voting against their best interests. They’re voting exactly for the person that is going to embolden them to continue to control other people’s bodies.” This theme of control—how it underpins White supremacy—is a chilling reminder of how deeply rooted these ideologies are, and how they manifest not just in overt acts of hatred but in the everyday choices people make at the ballot box.
Keith Boykin’s reflection further emphasized this sense of disillusionment and resilience: “Trump did everything wrong in his campaign, and it didn’t matter to the majority of white voters… That’s why it’s not about policy. It’s about race and gender and the changing America.” Boykin’s words remind us that, despite the harsh truths, we are still on the right side of history, and we must continue to fight for a better future.
Dr. Tressie McMillan Cottom provided a poignant analysis of White supremacy’s insidious reach, particularly concerning identity politics and White masculinity. She pointed out that many White people believe their best interests are naturally secure, which leads them to support systems and leaders that maintain their power by controlling others. “White people have a default belief that their comfort and best interests are protected by the very structure that controls others. It’s not about policy—it’s about power,” Cottom emphasized. This belief is a core driver of the systemic oppression we continue to face.
Cottom also highlighted the motivations behind White voting patterns: “White people vote not to protect their best interests, but to ensure their ability to control others. It’s about maintaining the structure that keeps them comfortable.” This underlying assumption drives many of the oppressive systems we see today and underscores the need for a collective effort to dismantle them.
Unity vs. Intra-Community Conflict
Unity within our community is both essential and fragile. D. Danyelle Thomas, founder of Unfit Christians, posted Deante Kyle’s reflection on the Grits & Eggs podcast, poignantly stated, “All you’ve been doing is hunting yourself this whole time—when it'‘s a VERY clear enemy.” Kyle reinforces that our misplaced anger often leads us to attack each other rather than focusing on our real oppressors.
D. Danyelle Thomas’ further elaborates that she used this quote to help her make sense of her own experience, as she reflected that she had a near-argument online. She wrote, “We are all angry. We are all facing tangible consequences but also very painful truths about where we stand within the society we are forced to cope within.” This statement serves as a poignant reminder of the vulnerability we face, which often leads us to lash out at the closest target—each other. But in moments like these, we must remind ourselves that our real enemy is the systemic structures designed to oppress us all.
Joy Ann Reid, in her TikTok video, also critiqued the divisive narratives that pit Black and Brown people against each other. She satirically addressed the deflection of blame onto Black and Brown people: "We, the majority, were just standing around minding our own business. And somebody, definitely somebody Brown or Black, just came along and elected Trump." Reid refers to this as the "White innocence" narrative, emphasizing how it absolves White voters of responsibility. She warns against these divisive narratives, stating:
Why would people want to push Black and Brown people...to fight it out over this election? Because that way, when the deportations start, no one will care. No one will protest because they'll be blaming each other.
Moreover, Reid analyzed NBC exit polls, finding that White women made up 37% of the electorate—overperforming their population share of 30%—and voted 53% for Trump. Similarly, White men comprised 34% of voters, also overperforming relative to their population size. In contrast, Black men and Latino men each represented only 5-6% of the electorate. Reid argues, "It is not possible mathematically... for this group here to be the swing electorate that makes Donald Trump the President." This analysis reveals the need to focus on the actual forces behind the election outcome rather than turning on each other.
These insights from Kyle, Thomas, and Reid urge us to protect our energy, redirect our anger, and remember the bigger picture—our shared struggle against systems of oppression. It is imperative to hold onto unity, recognizing that the strength of our community lies in collective resilience rather than internal division. It is imperative to hold onto unity, recognizing that the strength of our community lies in collective resilience rather than internal division.
Challenging Carceral Mindsets & Collective Liberation
A recurring theme in the conversations emerging from this post-election moment is the power and necessity of collective liberation. As Ijeoma Oluo put it, “We have the same oppressors, and wherever they are strong, it will come back on us. Our liberation is joined… everything we do to take on oppressive forces benefits us all.” This idea of interconnectedness is vital. It reminds us that our liberation isn’t about transactional relationships—it’s not about “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” Instead, it’s about understanding that the oppressive systems we fight are intertwined, and our efforts to dismantle them must be as well.
A Tiktok my friend shared on her story, echoed this sentiment, stating: “We have to interrupt cycles of violence… we need to get out of this colonial White supremacist mindset.” True freedom requires a dismantling of the very systems that pit us against one another. It’s a reminder that the violence and harm inflicted by oppressive systems must be dismantled at their roots if we are to move toward true liberation.
UK TikToker, Kima Otung, further emphasized the unique contributions of Black women to global progress, stating, “Black American women are exceptional change-makers… Your energy changes lives. Your energy changes countries.” The recognition of our collective strength is crucial as we continue to push for systemic change. It’s about leveraging our power in ways that uplift not just ourselves but our communities and the world.
In addition to recognizing interconnected struggles, challenging carceral mindsets is an essential component of collective liberation. Ijeoma Oluo’s words about punishment resonate deeply: “Punishment is cop behavior, and it is the opposite of the freedom that we have been trying to get.” The idea that we must “earn” our freedom or deserve to be punished if we fall short is a mindset that must be disrupted. Our movements for justice and liberation cannot replicate the same punitive ideology we seek to dismantle. If we are truly striving for abolition, we must first abolish the carceral mindset within ourselves and our communities.
A story I happened upon that my friend posted, spoke on this topic as they emphasized:
Our society's entire moral framework around good and bad, and the way that we do punitive justice is so messed up... we should not be wishing ill on other people, and we also shouldn't wish ill on ourselves.
This insistence that we reject punitive justice for both ourselves and others is essential if we are to move toward true liberation.
However, Katherine Wela Bogen’s indignation underscored the harm in believing we should be punished for our choices, including voting for VP Harris. She argued:
I understand that people will suffer under Trump. He is frightening and horrible and people will experience fascism under his rule. I hate that for us. I am also aware that "suffering" in Gaza means active bombardment, genocide, unimaginable violence, and IOF cruelty. Attack dogs set on 3 years olds. Sexual torture. Amputations without anaesthetic. Entire families being exterminated at once. Teenagers burned alive in hospitals. To me, American lives are not somehow inherently worth more than Palestinian lives. They just aren't. And I hope nobody changes my mind, because that would mean I've been effectively indoctrinated into a sick nationalistic exceptionalism: the same thing that has emboldened Israel and murdered hundreds of thousands in the last year.
The notion that any of us deserve suffering because of our political decisions is deeply rooted in White supremacist thinking, and it is a mindset we must collectively work to dismantle. Challenging carceral mindsets and embracing collective liberation are necessary steps in our journey toward true freedom. It’s about understanding that our struggles are interconnected, rejecting punitive justice, and leveraging our collective strength to build a future where all of us can thrive.
The Dangers of Symbolic Activism and White Feminism
The phenomenon of symbolic activism, particularly when linked to movements like the "blue bracelet" initiative, represents a recurring issue in the discourse around allyship and advocacy. Desireé B. Stephens examined the blue bracelet movement, which she described as a symbol that may have signaled solidarity within certain circles but ultimately failed to create real safety for marginalized communities. She pointed out:
The blue bracelet movement… reveals a common pattern: when white communities confront their own internal fractures, they often turn to Black and brown communities, asking us to be a part of their healing instead of addressing their own intracommunal dynamics.
This symbolic activism, which lacks substance, shifts the burden of healing and progress to marginalized groups, expecting us to legitimize efforts that fail to tackle the core of systemic issues. Instead of doing the internal work needed to confront harm within their own communities, White activists often extend symbolic gestures outward—looking for a proverbial gold star. This approach effectively ignores the complexities of oppression while positioning marginalized groups as emotional laborers.
Cole Arthur Riley, founder of Black Liturgies, posted the following quotes by Audre Lorde, stating that it was cathartic:
No woman is responsible for altering the psyche of her oppressor, even when that psyche is embodied in another woman…. Now we hear that it is the task of women of Color to educate white women—in the face of tremendous resistance— as to our existence, our differences, our relative roles in our joint survival. This is a diversion of energies and a tragic repetition of racist patriarchal thought.
This letter attempts to break a silence which I had imposed upon myself... I had decided never again to speak to white women about racism. I felt it was wasted energy because of destructive guilt and defensiveness, and because whatever I had to say might better be said by white women to one another at far less emotional cost... But I would like not to destroy you in my consciousness, not to have to.
The question arises in my mind, Mary [Daly], do you ever really read the work of Black women? Did you ever read my words, or did you merely finger through them for quotations which you thought might valuably support an already conceived idea concerning some old and distorted connection between us?
In a TikTok by drinkablebryan that garnered 2.2 million views, Bryan, an aspiring ally, addresses the 200 White women messaging him, asking for a way to signify that they aren’t part of the 52% of White women who voted for Trump. He criticizes the idea of wearing a bracelet or accessory to differentiate themselves, comparing it to Black people needing to signify they're "one of the good ones" to White people. Bryan emphasizes that such a bracelet is just a "virtue signal," and instead of superficial gestures, White people should take meaningful action by having difficult conversations and holding each other accountable. He rejects "Etsy shop activism" as ineffective, urging instead for actions that make a real difference.
Lynae Vanee emphasizes the emotional toll this takes on Black women, stating, "And if you call yourself my sister, my brother, my ally in this, I want you to think enough of me to understand that I need to be protected while doing that. So tag yourself in." Her plea for genuine support—not just in theory but in practice—highlights the gap between symbolic gestures and the tangible actions required to protect those on the front lines of social justice movements.
Moreover, Desireé B. Stephens’ critique reminds us of the limits of White feminism, which often centers performative allyship and symbolic actions while failing to disrupt the power structures that sustain inequality. White feminism frequently defaults to actions that make the participant feel virtuous without considering whether those actions create substantive, systemic change for marginalized groups. This selective approach to advocacy has been described by many as harmful because it allows those in privileged positions to “feel” like they’re contributing without dismantling the very systems of power that continue to oppress others.
Dr. Tressie McMillan Cottom also speaks to this phenomenon by analyzing the identity politics within White communities. She notes, “White people vote not to protect their best interests, but to ensure their ability to control others. It’s about maintaining the structure that keeps them comfortable.” The blue bracelet, and symbolic activism in general, fits into this analysis as it allows White people to maintain their comfort while presenting the illusion of solidarity. It serves to uphold the very power structures that maintain control over marginalized communities, rather than actively challenging them.
In the face of these performative symbols, it's essential to understand the difference between solidarity that is symbolic and solidarity that is transformative. Transformative solidarity means doing the work—addressing intracommunal harm, challenging White supremacist frameworks, and acknowledging when actions are performative rather than impactful. To be a true ally, one must engage with the uncomfortable, dismantle the superficial, and step beyond the empty gestures that ultimately serve no one except those already in positions of privilege.
Rest and Hope as Radical Acts
Lynae Vanee, in her Instagram reel, expressed that she is tired and disappointed, but she is still hopeful. Vanee's message underscores that hope isn't naive or effortless, as she stated:
What I want y'all to know is that, hope or faith, it's not some bystanding, oblivious, naive tactic without labor, toil, or sacrifice. Hope is gritty. It is bruised. It is wounded. It has been spat on, beat on, hung out to dry, yaunted and undermined, Time and time again, hope is underestimated, but every single time hope is believed to be stamped out, hope dust itself off and tries again because hope is unshakeable. So hope must be a black woman. And, I know that the organizers will say that it's a marathon and not a sprint, but I think this time and this moment after this particular blow, black women are choosing to recuperate, to give hope a second and don't ask her for a goddamn thing! Hope needs rest. Hope means restoration. And if we're leaning into this new frame of reference, I move to reject the urge to keep calling Black women resilient 'cause I was like we thought of as hopeful and unshakable in my hopefulness. The difference? Hopefulness recognizes that we do, in fact, feel, that we do, in fact, experience tidal waves of emotion that we well up inside sometimes, and sometimes we just need to release, but we do not drown in it. Not because we can breathe under water, but because, as long as we can draw breath, we can float. And I don't want to be regarded as this forever malleable inanimate object that can be poked and prodded, beat and battered, and continue to function in a worn and weary state. I want to be regarded as a human being with an unimaginable and indescribable power to heal, reinvent myself, evolve, and transform.
Sonya Renee Taylor beautifully captures this sentiment in one of my favorite quotes, stating: "Every single version of you is a miracle. You contended with an entire ecosystem that told you you were not enough—and you desired to disrupt that." This quote reminds us that our persistence and desire for change are acts of profound courage and resistance, pushing against a world that constantly seeks to diminish us.
Conclusion: Moving Forward Together
The themes of disappointment, resilience, unity, and hope are not just reflections of where we are; they are calls to action. They are reminders of what’s at stake, and of the work still left to do. They remind us to be gentle with ourselves and each other, to protect our energy, and to keep pushing forward, even when progress feels slow.
Malcolm X's words also resonate here: "If you stick a knife in my back nine inches and pull it out six inches, there's no progress. If you pull it all the way out, that's not progress. Progress is healing the wound that the blow made." This powerful analogy reminds us that true progress demands more than superficial gestures—it requires deep, systemic change and real healing. It also demands that we no longer accept the breadcrumbs often given to us by society. We will no longer be dehumanized by those who fail to honor our humanity.
As I reflect on these powerful voices I’ve come across this past week, I’m reminded of the necessity of our collective wisdom—how the insights from those navigating the intersections of race and gender are crucial for articulating the phenomena we face. Together, we have the capacity to do extraordinary good in the world.
My dissertation centered on understanding how Black women develop identity within online spaces, and what I found was that these platforms became powerful, informal educational tools—places where we could foster critical consciousness, share stories, and shape our own sense of self. These digital spaces transformed into sanctuaries for resilience and growth. The narratives we crafted and shared online were not just expressions of individual experiences but collective resistance against societal forces that sought to minimize our voices.
In the wake of this recent election, I see so many of these same dynamics at play. Black women, through shared reflection, collective grief, and radical hope, are once again creating spaces—both online and offline—where our voices can be heard and our experiences validated. This resilience is exactly why it is so essential for us to have spaces created by and for us.
By bringing the framework of my dissertation into these physical spaces, I hope to bridge the gap between the digital and the tangible, offering Black women a community that is both nurturing and liberating. The 3D Power Retreats are more than just a gathering—they are a living embodiment of the work I have been doing for years, providing a setting where we can collectively harness our voices, deepen our understanding, and dream of a world where we are seen, heard, and celebrated in our full humanity.
We are being called to more than struggle. We are being called to heal. And for that healing, it is imperative to have a space that is just for us. The 3D Power Retreats are part of my answer to this call—an extension of the work I began in my dissertation and the culmination of my belief in the necessity of sisterhood, collective reflection, and transformative growth. Together, we will continue to create, dream, and heal—but first we rest.
Let us grieve well and be the great alchemists we are by turning our despair and rage into something beautiful, as our ancestor, Toni Morrison, stated:
This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal. I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom. Like art.
Questions to Consider Moving Forward
The Power of Discovery:
What narratives or beliefs about Black womanhood have influenced how you see yourself, and how have they impacted your journey of self-discovery?
What stories about our community deserve to be told more boldly, and how can you be a part of amplifying those voices?
The Power of Discernment:
Which of your core values feel most aligned with your journey as a Black woman, and where might there still be misalignment between those values and how you show up in the world?
How can you begin to reframe the story of your lived experience—from one defined by societal trauma to one that celebrates your radical hope, rest, and healing?
The Power of Determination:
What practices have helped you stay grounded in your authentic self, especially when the world tries to define who you should be?
How can you contribute to building spaces that honor the unique experiences of Black women and ensure that our collective healing and thriving are prioritized?
