For all the people who have ever believed that, because they are not politically minded, not well-versed enough, or, incredibly, that politics will not affect them, this is proof and this is the result. Now we know. We are always affected.

The unbelievable results of the U.S. presidential election — and even that of the House and Senate — speak to the political apathy rampant among our generation. Am I wrong to say this is a new era? That this is the biggest wake-up call ever? This is the president-elect that shook the nation, and even the world.

Were you afraid of a time that would allow political correctness to crusade unchecked until “freedom of speech” was erased? Well, look where we are now.

Did you think the issues that have, in recent years, consistently populated protest crowds across the country were non-issues? Look around you. You’re surrounded by them.

In all honesty, I just don’t believe it’s true that every person who voted Trump for president is in fact uneducated, blue collar, white, male, or even necessarily an idiot. There has to be so much more than that. Look at all the red in the country, look at the state upsets, look at the people next to you. The night of the election, I heard constantly, “This is the result of the secret Trump supporters.”

Once, we blissfully surrounded ourselves with people with the same views, thus tricking ourselves into thinking that those were the only legitimate opinions. No one I talked to actually believed Trump would end up in the White House. Yet, as I’ve long suspected, we have no idea if the person sitting next to us in class believes in gender equality, if the professor lecturing us in astrophysics believes in LGBTQ+ rights, if even our extended family believes in the need for the EPA and the Department of Education.

We absolutely should be afraid. I am not saying, “Don’t be scared, everything will be OK.” I, for one, have no idea what’s going to happen. Does anyone? But change is on the horizon; for better or for worse, it’s already happened.

We should be scared — because President Trump means the legitimization of the disenfranchisement of minorities and communities that have fought for equal rights for years — women, LGBTQ+, immigrants, the list goes on.

I feel safe at Rice. But I’m still in Texas. As soon as I leave, I realize now that whatever I say could be overheard by an individual who now feels empowered to say what was previously dominantly viewed as unacceptable. Someone may feel that it’s OK to publicly demean me for my race or my gender or my opinions; if I walk down the street, I may be called out just for being me. Maybe that’s the country we live in now. Someone may even physically endanger me and see that as societally legitimate. As of now, I believe this is where we are.

But I will not, and no one else should, allow that to silence my voice. I will not go out to a meal with friends and tacitly accept that I can no longer address certain subjects. I will not step off campus and immediately keep mum about my anger against the patriarchy. It may not be (and likely should not be) a case of “us” versus “them,” but we all need to speak up — continue speaking up — and, at the same time, make an active point to listen more.

The day after the election, every person I looked at, I felt I knew what he/she was thinking. I felt united with everyone, albeit in a state akin to mourning, but in light of all this, despite everything, I personally feel amazed that every single person so far, at Rice, is talking about this, and feels passionately about this.

The election this year is proof that our country is way too big and way too divided. And maybe it’s proof that “this is why we can’t have nice things.” But the very least we can do is unite under a belief in a better world, a better America, and do everything we can to make some sort of dent to make our voices heard, to show that, just maybe, bigotry is not the most representative characteristic of the U.S.