I have thought long and hard about what I would, could, and should, say to the few people I know who are Trump supporters.
Yesterday, I spent my morning bowling with my son, and a dear family friend who’s mother is undergoing cancer treatment, and a young man with Down Syndrome.
The coach I met at the bowling alley, has volunteered his time as a community bowling coach for over 20 years.
He is certified to work with individuals with Down Syndrome, and has even served as a volunteer coach for blind bowlers (!)
I felt lifted up by this experience. And then later in the day, I read some news. And my spirits came plummeting down.

I am genuinely feeling fear about the upcoming election.
As a woman.
As a nurse.
As a person with a serious chronic illness.
As the parent of a son who could be called up to Draft, were there one in the future.
As the sister of a gay man.
As the caregiver of an 82 year old Veteran.
As a person who has had lovers of different ethnicities and races
As a Quaker.
As a person who has worked and volunteered on the inside of prison walls, Hospice Houses, the VA Medical Center.
As a person who lives with one kidney
As a person who works full time to provide medical benefits for a family of three.
As a person who has lost people I love to mental illness and suicide.
As a person who cares about climate change.
As a person of some Jewish heritage.
As a person who is a descendent of immigrants.

… I am asking you to tell me. Go ahead. Knowing me as you do, knowing these things about me, tell me how you can look into your own heart, and cast your vote for this man.
Tell me that you honestly believe he will *serve* this country.
That he cares about your rights.
That he cares about mine.

Tell me how you reconcile this. How you would feel if he learned about your daughter’s colostomy bag. How you would feel if he mocked your overweight wife. How would you feel if he looked at you, and saw your disability, the color of your skin, your struggles.