I woke up under a blanket of unseasonably warm temperatures and met the eyes of my girlfriend. Communal tears began to swell but all we could do was hold each other.

There was nowhere to put this pain and betrayal: we must hold it ourselves.

The days following the election were filled with feelings of grief, betrayal and anger. I shed tears for everyone impacted by the turnout of this election, including myself.

As a queer woman, I was broken when at 2:24 a.m. the Associated Press declared Trump had won Pennsylvania. I realized the feelings of hope Harris had conjured were not enough to win the election.

Many of my family members voted for Trump, including my immediate family. At first, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. My anger was immense. I couldn’t believe my family would vote the personified version of all that’s morally wrong in the world into office.

I’d lived through this two times before, during the 2016 and 2020 elections.

But, now, with over two years of college behind me, I have a wider world view, and firmer opinions. It’s a harder pill to swallow. I don’t think I’ve even attempted to swallow it yet.

Experiencing the post-election emotional wave on campus made me question my relationship to my family. I felt guilty for not fighting tooth and nail to change my family’s votes. I felt embarrassed to be from my small town.

These feelings were a product of my own internal struggle with where I’m from but also peripheral pressure from friends. I was even offered a place to go for thanksgiving, after someone assumed I no longer wanted to go home.

For me, it’s not an option to turn away from my family or where I grew up. Not only am I completely dependent on them, but they are amazing people. They have picked me up from the darkest times of my life, they are generous, they are loving and they truly care about those around them.

I have to leave space to separate the vote from the person. I know this isn’t a popular opinion, but it is my truth.

Getting ready to go home for the holidays is daunting. There’s a knowing that my beliefs won’t be heard or entertained, but also a knowing that I’ll be met with a warm embrace.

The weeks following the election I was met with pity from those around me. People that have met my family multiple times before portrayed a sense that they were now writing them off. This opened my eyes to the reality that people don’t understand the political spectrum.

While my family voted for Trump, they are not touting their love for Trump. I do not defend their votes but I do acknowledge that they are not radical conservatives. They hold their views due to the culture and environment they have existed in their whole lives.

Politics are not just a vote casted. They are deeply rooted in historical inequalities, human rights activism and the fight for protecting democracy.

In the same vein, not everyone has access to accurate and inclusive media or education around politics. It is easy to forget that people are a product of the environment in which they exist.

I’m not making excuses or saying this allots for no self-reflection or progression. But I am acknowledging that my town is a conservative bubble. My family was all born and raised within 20 miles of the house I grew up in and they all remain there.

If I did not experience life outside of my small town, I’m not sure I would hold the same beliefs that I do now. It’s scary, but true.

I grew up believing what my family believed because I didn’t know any different. I accepted the facts they handed me and took them as truth. I began to detach from these beliefs when I spent a year away from home in high school and have continued to build my own relationship to the world and politics.

I’ve reached a point where all hope I had for shifting my family into being more progressive is gone. I cannot expect them to change in the same environment where they built their beliefs.

I am still picking up the pieces and sorting through my feelings about my family. Things will be different—that’s undeniable. But at the end of the day, I want to choose compassion.

I can love my family while also recognizing their inability to understand my views. Holding these two things at once is taxing and divisive but it’s the only way for me to move forward.

I will not throw away 20 years of love and dedication to my well-being over the election, even if it’s the hardest pill I’ll ever have to swallow.