California Moms Wrestle With What a Trump Victory Teaches Children

As election results pointed to Donald Trump‘s victory, Berkeley mother Katie Brooks found herself wrestling with both her toddler’s bedtime routine and her own rising panic. When tears overtook her, 5-year-old daughter Lucia crawled into her lap, offering the kind of comfort that Kamala Harris supporters across the Bay Area ached for on election night.

“When I told Lucia ‘everything would be all right,’ I was lying,” Brooks admits, her voice catching. She says that Lucia was captivated by the historical possibilities of this election. When Brooks explained that a woman had never been president before, her daughter’s disbelief reflected the hopes of many who saw Harris’ candidacy as a chance to finally shatter the highest glass ceiling.

As defeat crystallized into reality, progressive mothers across the region not only mourned the unrealized prospect of a female president — they also confronted their growing fears that Trump will deliver on campaign promises to accelerate deportations, roll back environmental protections amid a climate crisis, and potentially dismantle LGBTQ+ rights. Now, on top of explaining an election loss, parents must also translate what they view as an existential threat to their communities’ core values.

Gail Cornwall, who is raising five children in a blended San Francisco family, finds herself grappling with how Harris’ loss sends a gut-punching message to her daughters.

“With Hillary’s run, I felt like the prevailing message to girls was, ‘You can be president one day,’” Cornwall says. “Now, they are hearing, ‘You can try to be president, but you’ll never win, no matter how knowledgeable, or experienced, or hardworking or charismatic you are.'”

Cornwall admits she’s walking a tricky line with her children. “I want the kids to know they’re safe, and not much will likely change in their lives, but also to recognize what a privilege that is,” she says.

She’s trying to help them grasp that other children’s lives will change dramatically and that their family has a responsibility to “help minimize the impact of a Trump presidency on marginalized communities.”

Christina Balch, a Berkeley educator and mother of a 6-year-old, carries a double burden: “What do I tell my high school students? How do I guide my son?” She’s terrified to raise a boy in an environment where divisive “xenophobic, toxic, sexist” rhetoric may become increasingly normalized. “Everything I stand for as an anti-racist, feminist, ally and educator feels under threat,” she says.

Perhaps no one embodies this complex dance between fear and determination more than Kathie Moehlig, mother of a 24-year-old transgender son. Her initial spiral into shock and defeat gave way to a middle-of-the-night revelation: Her son needs her now more than ever.

“When my son transitioned 13 years ago, most people didn’t even know what that word meant. Now that is not the case,” Moehlig says, finding hope in the progress already made while acknowledging the battles ahead. “This new government hates transgender kids like mine. I have to teach my son how to thrive in the world anyway.”

In San Francisco, Rose Medellin couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed Wednesday morning, listening to her 15-year-old son’s television playing the news in the next room. Just the night before, she had stood proudly beside him at the polls. Now, less than 12 hours later, she struggled to find words of comfort. How could she explain a world that rewards the very behavior she had taught her three sons to reject?

But in a touching role reversal, it was her son who comforted her as she limped to his room and crawled into bed with him. “It’s going to be OK, Mom,” he whispered, hugging her tight. “We live in California.” His attempt to find hope — to push back his mother’s tears — reflected both the weight children now carry and their youthful optimism.

In Sacramento, Erin Gabel was speechless when her 10-year-old asked: “Why is it called a blue wall if it falls?” While her mind glitched on Humpty Dumpty references, all she could manage was, “I don’t know, buddy, but we need to figure that out for the next election.”

These parents (and kids) are obviously grieving but not in retreat. They are teaching their children that sometimes the most important thing isn’t winning but standing up for what’s right — even when, especially when, it feels like you’ve lost.

“I will rear adults who respect the bodies and hearts of others, treat their contemporaries with respect, and above all love who they are as humans,” says Christie Cooksey, mother of two boys in a blended Berkeley family.

It’s not the victory speech many hoped to hear this week, but it might be the one children need most.