My father is easily the most brilliant man I know. I can ask him about anything, from explaining how angular momentum works to the most recent updates about our state legislation, and I can guarantee you that my father will have a well-articulated, detailed answer waiting for me off-hand. We have particularly good conversations on our car rides, and though it's hard to remember all of them, I remember one particular conversation, a little over a year ago, around the time when Donald Trump first announced that he would be running for president.

I brought up the topic, and we laughed about it. It was just ridiculous, like the idea of Vermin Supreme or Kanye West running for president. I was convinced it was a publicity stunt, a joke. Even then, I asked my dad to make sure,

"He doesn't have a chance, though, right?"

My dad responded in Bengali, "Naa, naa, are you kidding? He has zero chance."

I believed him wholeheartedly, because obviously, a reality TV star/businessman had no business being in the Oval Office, and I shoved the notion out of my mind.

The race continued, and I watched as Vermin Supreme gave up on his campaign. I watched as Carly Fiorina suspended her campaign, and shortly after, as Jeb Bush did the same. Admittedly, I was not a huge fan of either of either Fiorina or Bush, but I still understood that they were legitimate options for our next President. I noticed that Trump still hadn't suspended his campaign, but I presumed that he was just enjoying basking in the limelight, as usual.

The primaries rolled around, as did another car conversation. I asked my dad again about what he thought.

"The Democrats are hoping that Trump wins the primaries."

I was shocked. Why?

"Clinton will be a shoo-in for president, then."

I understood. To me, Trump was akin to a cartoon character - humorous, unrelatable, and hardly real. The election result of a race between a former Secretary-of-State and a man who could barely conduct himself in public was a no-brainer.

In the primaries, Hillary supporters cheered as Trump went on to become the Republican Presidential Nominee. I could see it now, just within our reach - finally, the first female President, a woman I could finally call "Madam President." I had discussions with my friends about her inevitable future presidency. What we would call Bill Clinton - the First Man, the First Husband, or the First Gentleman? What would the history books say?

It was at this time that Trump's nomination was still hilarious. I used to frequent Trump's twitter and Facebook page for a good laugh, to stumble upon his latest absurd conspiracy about climate change or to hear his newest blatantly incorrect accusation. His responses in debates were so idiotic and meaningless that they were funny, impersonations of him on Saturday Night Live made my sides ache, and social media was flooded with mockeries of his facial expressions and sayings.

However, when the race was down to Trump and Clinton, things started to get just a little more frightening. Tomi Lahren's videos popped up on my Facebook newsfeed, and I watched as a young, fiery woman shamelessly spouted xenophobic, Islamophobic, and homophobic remarks, posting pictures in a "Make America Great Again" hat and boasting her support for Trump. The comments on Trump and Lahren's posts were even more horrifying; people from all states declared their loyalty towards the GOP candidate, passionately and openly affirming their hatred for African-Americans, Syrians, Muslims, immigrants, Mexicans, the LGBTQ society, and women alike.

I began to notice the stigma around labeling myself as a Clinton supporter. Clinton supporters were artificial. Clinton supporters were spineless and cop-outs. Somehow, Hillary's e-mails were perceived as far more incriminating than Trump's countless sexist remarks about women. Somehow, the fact that Donald Trump was accused of sexual assault and rape could not cancel out the fact that Hillary was "cold." Somehow, Hillary's platform, one based on equality and justice, could not beat Trump's platform, a platform forged in fear and hatred.

Because I attend college in a different state, I could not have a car conversation with my father to try and find reason amidst all the political chaos and confusion. Instead, I called him on Election Night, a sea of red states swimming in my vision.

"Dad, he can't win, right?"

All I could think about was that first conversation in the car, us joking about this far-fetched, borderline silly idea. For the first time in my life, my father was wrong.

I had so much faith. I told myself that this is exactly why we studied history in our schools. We had covered World War II, the Holocaust, and Hitler so extensively in our history classes that there was no way we would make the same mistake of picking a cruel, heartless, hateful man as our leader. Hadn't we studied Hitler's methods of propaganda, the way he indulged his country's fears so that he could rise to power? Hadn't we seen the chilling, horrifying consequences of his actions?

My family and I believed in our fellow Americans. We believed that they would not strip millions of their brethren of their fundamental human rights. We believed that the people of America would not value their taxes over the safety and well-being of millions of human beings. We believed that our country was progressing, that we were about to have our first woman president who would help to continue to move this country in the direction Obama had set it in.

Instead, we watched in absolute horror as our country turned its back on us, turned its back on the millions of immigrants and minorities. All we could do was watch as our country rose up to accept Donald Trump as its new leader.

I watched as millions of privileged Americans celebrated carelessly, blissfully unthreatened by the dangers of their new President-Elect's deep hatred.

My friends, they mourn and they fear. They mourn for their families, for their cultures. They fear for their fundamental human rights, their homes, and their lives.

For those out there that do not understand the implications of this election, I will simply tell you this. For the next four years, I will live in fear, as will women, blacks, the Latinx community, Muslims, refugees, immigrants, Asian-Americans, Indian-Americans, Native Americans, and the LGBTQ society.

We will all live in fear.

My father, the man with an answer to everything, has no explanation for what has just happened.

Now, I hope. I hope that Trump is not as bad as he seems, and I hope that he cannot undo eight years of progress. I hope that we as a nation can stand together, and that we continue to move forward.

I hope, most of all, that my father will never be wrong again.