I want to start by saying this blog is not about politics. It’s not about bipartisan systems, who won or who lost, or whether you liked or disliked the choices we had for president. None of it. This is about empathy toward our fellow humans, our brothers and sisters on this planet. This is about awareness and understanding of others’ experiences. So here we go…

This election season has been emotional, anxiety-inducing, and fear-filled for many people. Reactions have ranged from relief and celebration to fear, anger, sadness, numbness, and much more. Whatever your reaction, it is valid. You are allowed your response. You are allowed your experience. No matter where you fall on the political spectrum, these emotions deserve space. What’s important, however, is not to let these feelings lead to meanness, condescension, or violence, as that only deepens the discord.

What many people may not understand is that the responses we are seeing, whether from the left, independents, or centrists, often come from a place deeper than just “winning or losing.” This goes beyond a single election and the next four years; for many, it touches on issues of safety, power, and the need to feel seen and heard. When someone’s response feels intense or outsized, it may not be about “just an election” at all. Often, these reactions stem from personal histories, lived experiences, or deep-seated fears about how leadership will impact their lives and communities.

For survivors of abuse, those who’ve been mistreated by authority figures, or those who have felt unheard and unprotected, changes in leadership can resurface a sense of vulnerability. These shifts can bring up painful memories of feeling controlled, dismissed, or unsafe. For some, the mere idea of leadership that feels threatening or invalidating can reawaken psychological and physiological memories of times when their safety or autonomy were at risk.

Then there are those who carry generational or historical trauma. Communities with legacies of injustice such as Indigenous peoples, descendants of enslaved individuals, or others who have endured systemic mistreatment may feel these changes on a level that’s difficult for others to understand. These memories, passed down through generations, create a powerful collective memory that resurfaces in moments of societal upheaval. This isn’t a “left or right” reaction; it’s a reminder of past experiences with systems that have not always served everyone equally.

As a survivor of rape, seeing the responses of my family and friends toward a person who was found liable of sexual assault makes me cringe.

As a survivor of narcissistic abuse, seeing large portions of the nation normalize these behaviors terrifies me.

As an ally, seeing so many willing and acting to dehumanize people I love leaves me fearful.

As a researcher of historical trauma, witnessing hatred from certain religious and governmental groups triggers my own fears. I cannot imagine what it must evoke for those groups who have experienced it firsthand.

Trauma is complex. It’s not just a memory of a single event but a feeling of vulnerability and loss of control that can linger long after. Trauma isn’t only individual; it often affects communities, families, and even generations. This is especially true for those who have felt marginalized or disregarded by systems of power. In moments of societal change, these emotions can resurface in ways that feel deeply personal.

This is why people may feel profound unease right now. For some, changes in leadership can remind them of past situations where they felt unsafe, unheard, or powerless. This is not about “taking sides” politically; rather, it’s about recognizing the emotional weight many carry and how these shifts might amplify old wounds.

A trauma-informed perspective acknowledges that, when people feel intense emotions in response to events like elections, it’s often because they feel their safety or sense of control is at stake. These trauma responses aren’t about who is “right” or “wrong.” They’re protective instincts, developed over time, to help people navigate a world that sometimes feels unpredictable or unsafe.

It’s natural to seek control in these moments, especially when life feels chaotic. Simple choices, like setting boundaries with media or choosing supportive communities, can help ground and soothe us. Reaching out to people who understand and share your values can also be a powerful reminder that none of us are truly alone, even when things feel uncertain.

For communities carrying historical trauma, election cycles can reawaken old wounds. Governments and authority figures have sometimes caused harm, and collective memories of those experiences can stay with us, passed down through generations. This isn’t about “living in the past”; it’s about acknowledging that history shapes our present reality.

For these communities, shifts in power aren’t just about policies; they can feel like reminders of broken promises or times when systems failed to protect or uplift them. Recognizing this history doesn’t mean dwelling in pain, it means understanding that these reactions are real and reasonable, shaped by events beyond any single person’s control.

Our responses are complex, layered, and unique to each person’s story. We can’t always control what happens around us, but we can control how we respond to each other. In this moment, compassion is necessary. We have the opportunity to offer empathy to those who are hurting or fearful. We can hold space for people to feel what they feel without judgment, recognizing that their experiences may differ from our own.

Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. For those feeling disconnected or distressed, small steps toward empowerment like connecting with loved ones, practicing grounding exercises, or focusing on self-care can bring stability and regulation. We can support each other by building spaces for community healing, resilience, and understanding.

While we may feel divided by politics, at our core, we all seek a sense of safety, belonging, and purpose. These are universal needs that transcend political affiliations. By showing empathy toward those experiencing distress, we build a bridge toward collective resilience. We can choose to rise above discord, meeting each other with understanding rather than judgment.

Lastly, if you’re adding to another’s pain through name-calling, dismissiveness, or rubbing your victory in others’ faces, I hope you find healing. Caring and empathetic people don’t go around hurting others. Whether you agree or not, you can be kind.