I won’t deny that I’m chuffed with the results of the US election. It might make Twitter more manageable too; less chat around the latest projectile-ALL-CAPS-tweeting from a narcissist in the West Wing.

But let’s rewind. Even in early 2016, it seemed difficult to believe that someone like Donald Trump could achieve such high office. When he did, the next election couldn’t come soon enough. Four—very long—years later, it did.

Trump may have lost, but it wasn’t by much; across the country, some 70 million people ticked his name on their ballot. Some reports focused on Florida, where the Cuban community voted in larger numbers for Trump. The Republican party have, over the years, steadily likened the US Democrats to socialists, imparting a sense of ‘I didn’t leave communism in Cuba to find socialism in the US’. But such reports also lumped communities into one—for example, highlighting the ‘Latinos’ who voted for Trump. But Latinos and Hispanics—different in themselves and made up of Cubans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, Venezuelans and many more—are no more a homogenous group than ‘Asian’ or ‘brown’ voters are. Who do you mean? Chinese? Indian? Pakistani? Bangladeshi? Korean? Maldivian? A bit like ‘BAME’, it’s kinda lame.

In the UK, I’m always surprised by how many Gujarati people (the predominantly Hindu-Indian immigrant community that I belong to, whose overall perception is of having ‘done well’ in this country) feel we should be proud of Conservative MP and Home Secretary, Priti Patel, because she is ‘one of us’. The other week, family members were surprised to hear that I was unenthused at the prospect of Rishi Sunak as our next Prime Minister. That he’s from a party I’ve never voted for, whose policies I despise, and who—as an individual MP—has voted for actions which harm marginalised and vulnerable groups, didn’t come into it. But should I be surprised that they rated him? Of course not. British Hindus and Sikhs are actually more likely to vote Conservative than British Muslims, for example. There are nuances in every demographic.

Immigrant communities don’t all think the same; we are political thinkers and we don’t all lean left. Not all skin-folk are kinfolk. It’s true that shared experiences create similar values (and therefore, obvious allegiances) and also, that ‘traditional’ right-wing policies aren’t a natural home-ground for most immigrants. But there will be those whose experiences—in upbringing or other factors—mean they vote differently. Grappling with the intersections of race, wealth, class and so on, are crucial here.

In the case of the US election, Trump was ousted because Black, ‘Latino’, Native American and young women of colour voted in huge numbers for Biden. The end result was largely thanks to relentless, targeted, grassroots campaigning by Black women (the most marginalised and unprotected demographic, 90% of whom repudiated Trump) such as voting rights activist, Stacey Abrams, in Georgia. In 2018, Abrams lost her bid to become Governor of Georgia, amid widespread claims that her rival suppressed votes, but she went on to create Fair Fight; an organisation addressing—yep, you guessed it—voter suppression. What a flex.

Over 84% of Black people voted for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. A CNN poll suggests 66% of the ‘Latino’ vote went to Biden, even if Trump increased his share by 4% in this broad demographic. Biden also increased the share among the young, with 61% of people aged 18-29 voting Democrat. More specifically, 86% of Black, 82% of Asian and 73% of Latino youth voted blue. In Michigan, youth voter turnout tripled from 2016.

And in some Arizona precincts, 97% of Native Americans voted for a Biden-Harris ticket. In the Navajo Nation, in the northeast area, voter registration is a huge issue, partly because reservations do not usually have a physical address. But over the last year, the Rural Utah Project registered over 4,000 Native American voters in the state by working with Google to let people use their GPS coordinates to register. It should be noted that the majority of Indigenous voters live in urban areas and therefore aren’t included in voting statistics from tribal lands. (Incidentally, Native candidates also did well, with new firsts in elected office).

Meanwhile, exit polls suggest that 55% of white women (and some 60% of white men) voted for Trump. That’s a higher percentage and in higher numbers than the 52% of 2016. And while he retained support among white voters without a university degree, he lost ground with voters whose family income is under $100,000 a year, and gained support among the wealthy—which tells you something about who people feel he is helping. It also tells you that the wave of black squares we saw across Instagram in June belies a troubling issue of performativity, when it comes to tackling systemic racism. Where was the focus on that?

Ultimately, what ‘Latino’ or ‘Black’ communities didn’t do in this election isn’t the issue. It’s a red herring; one that covers up ingrained racism in white society, reinforces damaging stereotypes, and shifts the blame back onto ‘brown’ people. Those communities are made of many parts; they're not a monolith and do not vote as a block (although these groups overwhelmingly turned out for Biden-Harris, as might be expected). The press hasn't focused on who enabled Trump to get as close to re-election as he did, and why—and it shows on the ground.

Both of us keep getting messages from white friends who were ‘shocked' and 'appalled’ by the statistics, but were quick to claim Kamala Harris’ appointment—as the first woman, Black woman and person of Indian-American origin elected to the White House—as a victory for all women. Yes, we should celebrate collectively (especially, during a time we’ve been starved of good news). But, let's get real; not all women fought, and these oversights just brush the Trump under the carpet. 

In fairness, though, in voting him out, Americans achieved something that many of us have not been able to. The British government's latest report into whether it has upheld its Black citizens' human rights, published quietly at 1am yesterday, was damning. It was an admission that the UK is institutionally racist—and that it has seeped into every corner of our society. 

So, people of colour are not shocked. This election tells you everything you need to know about systemic racism, and how—across all forms of media, around the world—we are guilty of dressing it up, instead of dealing with it. It’s time to wake up, smell the coffee and do the work.

Shivani and Meera
@shivaniashoka
@no_fixed_plans

P.S. If you missed any of our past six newsletters, you can read them all here.

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