Seeing as I had a break from work, I took it as an opportunity to visit a friend in Lynchburg, Virginia, whom I had not seen in over a year. While I was excited, I was also hesitant to leave the comfort of Seattle.

Even though Virginia voted blue in the 2024 presidential election, I knew Lynchburg was anything but blue. As a Queer woman, I was nervous about staying in a town where almost every truck has a Trump 2024 sticker, and where the majority of homes had Trump 2024 signs on their front lawn. I was in Virginia for about a week, and I saw three Confederate flags compared to two Pride flag stickers.

While I knew there are conservative pockets in every state, this was something I hadn't seen before. Trump won 52% of the vote here, and in light of the decisions the administration has made only weeks into his term, the anxiety of being in a place that picked him was overwhelming.

It also did not ease my stress that Lynchburg is home to Liberty University, where my friend is a student. Liberty University is one of the worst campuses for LGBTQIA+ people, because it holds a Title IX exemption, allowing the school to discriminate against students based on their gender identity and sexual orientation, according to Campus Pride.

I tried telling myself that it wasn't a big deal, that I am a straight-passing woman, so the chances that people were going to approach me about the Pride pin on my coat were low. But I realized that it didn't matter if anyone said anything to my face. It was the knowledge that this community voted for Trump — a convicted felon —to be president of the United States.

Trump signed an executive order stating there were only two genders, attempting to erase the existence of Nonbinary and Transgender people. He wants DEI policies eradicated, and is working to ban Trans people from the military. I wound up thinking that a person who voted for Trump either supports or condones these harmful decisions. It made me angry and disappointed.

I was angry because I shouldn't have felt anxiety about visiting another state. I was disappointed that, according to the popular vote, the country wanted Trump.

I would like to think that there was a time when political differences were just about preferences on policy, rather than deep divisions over identity and values. But this election wasn't just about policy differences — at least it wasn't for me. Morals and human rights were on the line. What the United States stood for was in jeopardy.

Studying history in college, I learned to see the hypocrisy of the United States. Its history of racism, sexism, and human rights violations has made me cynical. I saw the election as a chance for America to prove me wrong, to show that we have progressed enough as a country that we would pick someone other than Trump to be our president, and that we wanted something better for the country.

I used to believe that progress was slow but inevitable. But after visiting Lynchburg following the election, I believe as a country we are only regressing — slipping back to a time where equality and morality are up for debate. It made me see more than ever that we're not the "united" states and has me questioning if we ever were.