Watching the election results yesterday, I got flashbacks to the last election Trump won. It was Nov. 8, 2016. I was behind a bar in Manhattan’s Flatiron District, in a room full of enthusiastic Americans donning suffragette-inspired tilted hats and “I’m With Her” shirts. A few of my friends came by to watch the night’s events unfold while I made drinks for the crowd. The TVs were above my head facing outward, so no screen was visible to me, and I was too busy to know what was going on. As the night progressed, slowly but surely, I watched my friends’ faces morph from hopeful to worrisome to pure dread.
“He’s going to win,” my friend said, a look of horror in her eyes.
We were all dumbfounded, but Trump would become the 45th president of the United States. A billionaire without a political background who bragged about “grabbing women by the pussy” was elected Commander in Chief over a qualified woman with decades of experience.
During Trump’s first term, I was raped by my then-boyfriend, which he filmed and posted to PornHub. In 2019, I pressed charges against him and found myself in the throes of a sexual assault case. I quickly, and painfully, realized how complicated coming forward and speaking out against sexual violence was. Between my own assault and the #MeToo movement, I was suddenly hyper-aware that rape culture is all around us, from comedy clubs and college campuses to the highest seat in the land. I found myself relating to women like Chanel Miller, because even with neatly stacked evidence, a video, and a rape in the first-degree charge, I was constantly questioned and doubted ina case that dragged out for two excruciating years.
Healing from the trauma of rape and reporting has been anything but linear, and every day is a gamble. I never know when my PTSD will find me, and my anxiety and depression as a result of the events that unfolded are so ingrained that just last week a therapist confirmed my diagnosis still exists, years after the fact.
But as I waited for the results to roll in last night, I thought things might finally be different. Since Trump’s first term, in 2023, a Manhattan jury found him liable for sexually assaulting E. Jean Carroll. And that’s only the one that made it to court; dozens of women have accused Trump of similar behavior.
A vote for Trump is no different than a vote for my rapist.
When I see family members and colleagues who proudly support and cast their vote for Donald Trump – whether it’s “for the economy” or because they truly are racist and do not trust a woman to be president – it actually is personal. It’s especially heartbreaking seeing family members who have sat with me in court through my sexual assault case proudly voting for Trump. I can’t have people in my life look me in the eye and ask me how my day is, tell me they love me, talk about the weather, and then vote for a man who is working towards actively stripping away my rights.
I think about how, had I not been on birth control when I was raped, I could have gotten pregnant, and had it happened a few years later within a state line other than New York, how close I was to carrying my rapist’s child. I think about how many rape survivors will die from pregnancy complications because they won’t have access to reproductive freedom. This is already happening in our country, and it is only about to get worse.
Electing Trump for a second term was a clear, conscious choice by Americans, and the message is loud and clear: being a sexual predator is not a dealbreaker in choosing our next president. So when I hear people say I shouldn’t let politics dictate my relationships, I simply don’t have that luxury. A vote for Trump is no different than a vote for my rapist. I don’t expect everyone to agree on every issue, and I certainly don’t expect everyone to have views entirely similar to mine. But I don’t think I’m setting the bar high by expecting, at the very least, that the elected officials in charge of making laws that govern our bodies are not sexual predators.
I hope survivors around the US know that they are not alone in their feelings today. Whether it’s rage, numbness, pure and utter sadness, or all of the above, you are not alone. As survivors in systems that consistently fail us, long before last night, I have learned that all we have is each other.
Kaitlyn Rosati is a food and travel journalist. Previously, she interned for UN Women and briefly attended law school, both of which were largely fueled by her advocacy for victims of gender-based violence. While these days Kaitlyn’s work focuses more on finding the best hidden dining gems at various destinations around the globe, she still speaks at universities and college campuses to raise awareness about sexual violence, particularly cyber sexual abuse.
