Do you hear that? It’s the sound of feet hitting the pavement. It’s the sound of a sleeping
giant waking. It’s the sound of a new generation mobilizing before they even know what the word means. Just listen…

Yesterday, I received an email from Girls on the Run, an organization that empowers young girls through exercise, congratulating my family on our completed 5k this past weekend. It was our daughters’ first, and my husband and I proudly ran it with them. It was a big moment for our family. But as it turns out, it was a big moment in more ways than one.

Say what you will about the election, but the outcome shook me deeply. Not from a political standpoint, but from a moral one. Over the past week, many of us found ourselves searching for who we are, both individually and collectively, on a base level. I read a fantastic piece in the New York Times this week about that very subject. It helped me process why I grieve our country’s decision.

Living in a suburb of Atlanta, the strides I see in race relations and the inclusion of those with disabilities, immigrants, and refugees, to name a few, are admittedly different than for those living elsewhere. My church helps settle refugee families in our local area, and in some cases, employees them. We house the homeless in our building for a week at a time, inviting our guests to eat with us, attend classes with us, worship with us. My children attend a small public elementary school that houses a large special needs department serving other area schools. It also happens to have a more diverse student population than most of the schools around us. We live with inclusion every day. I’m not tooting my own horn here, I’m simply painting a picture of my world.

Therefore, the realization that a large art of the population voted for a man who spoke words denouncing a larger part of the population – immigrants, minorities, women – is upsetting to me. Now I understand many of his supporters say they don’t agree with all Donald Trump says. They say they aren’t racist, or misogynistic, or hateful. They want to see change in Washington. They believe we need a stronger leader. I get that, and don’t entirely disagree.

Please know that if you voted for Trump, I’m not labeling you as a racist here. But to me, that vote validated what he said. A vote for Trump gave his words power.

To my 8-year-old daughter, the outcome of the election sent the message that bullying is okay and women aren’t good enough. When she heard the news, she simply said – “How, Mama? How?”

Before I go on, we must remember that kids see in black and white. And black and white for my daughter says the bad guy won. It’s simple really – someone who says mean things about her friends and classmates, or things that scare them, is a bad guy. She’s confused. And she isn’t alone. There is an anti-bullying campaign sweeping through schools across our country. Perhaps you’ve heard about it. Well, it made school children sit up and listen during this election cycle. It made them talk about issues they don’t necessarily need to face yet.

To be clear, I didn’t tell my daughter that Trump is a bully. She decided that for herself.

She asked how he won, and I told her. I explained the electoral college. I explained the media’s role in this election. I explained that, to be honest, there wasn’t really a good choice this year. I told her that an alarming number of people in this country just didn’t vote. But I also explained that there were many people who wanted Trump to win. And that too was okay. Therein lies the beauty of this country.

Then I pulled both of my daughters into my arms and I told them that in our family, we will continue to be kind, to spread love, to stand up for what’s right, and fight against what’s wrong. I told them it would be okay.

A few days later, our family headed downtown Atlanta to run that 5k. Unexpectedly, a simple road race was a balm for my soul. Over 3,000 people ran this race. Girls ran this race – with their coaches, with their moms, with their dads. Atlanta police officers lined the course, cheering us on, giving high-fives to my daughter as she passed. There was excitement, there was unity brought about by a shared goal. That’s when I heard it. Little feet. Moving.

You see, Girls on the Run isn’t for the elite. More than half of the girls in their programs participate in training and running the 5k at no cost. This is an organization that is changing lives. And we inadvertently stumbled into it. My girls weren’t even on a team. I was just looking for a 5k they would enjoy. I found it. That morning, girls who represented all that a major metro area has to offer – different classes, different races, ran together. It was inclusiveness at its best.

Then came yesterday’s email with a simple message scrolling across the top: the finish line is just the beginning.

It went on to say that the organization’s foundational belief is that girls are inherently full of power and potential with the ability to change the world.

Over the last week, you may have heard the words, “What will I tell my children?” You may empathize with this. You may scoff at it. Well, what about this? I’m not telling my daughters anything. I’m showing them. I showed them this weekend. And I’ll continue to do so. The giant awakes.

You see, Donald Trump is not America. Neither is Hillary Clinton. We are America. You may be hurting now, or you may be elated. You may be shaken. You may be motivated. Wherever you stand, the finish line of the election is just the beginning: the beginning of our chance to speak. As women. As men. As immigrants. As minorities. As Americans.

So lace up, girls. I’ll show you how to get moving. Then go forth. In ten years or so, vote. Change the world. We need you – those on the right, those on the left, all of us. We need you.

To the rest of us, I say, listen. Hear it? A new generation of Americans are finding their voice.