Editor’s Note: This article is by Pete White, Executive Director of Los Angeles Community Action Network (LA CAN), an organization on Skid Row in Los Angeles that helps people fight poverty and oppression. Skid Row has the largest stable population of homeless people in the United States. The article is republished here with permission.
Today we gather, not in shock but in a profound sense of sorrow. Many of us are standing here with a calm face, but beneath it runs a river of despair. Our deepest fears have been laid bare for the world to see. This was never a battle of right versus wrong. This was never just another election. The wound we carry—the wound our nation carries—now lies open and raw, exposing racism, sexism, xenophobia, and misogyny, all standing in the light.
Some tried to call this a political game, a simple exercise of party lines and power. But no—it was always a fight for survival. It was a deadly battle for our humanity, one that we can no longer deny. And for those of us who dared hope that we’d turned a corner, today feels like a cruel reminder that those roots run deeper than we wanted to admit. This is no time to avert our gaze. No amount of finger-pointing will heal what’s been torn open, because what we’re confronting is bigger than any one leader or even any one administration.
Yes, a man with a history of hatred, lies, and cruelty will once again lead this nation. But make no mistake—this election is not just about him. It’s about a sickness that has festered long before his rise. This is a referendum on our nation’s soul. This is the manifestation of white anxiety, racist audacity, and a fear of true equality, surfacing once again.
To some in power, we are expendable. To them, we are invisible, enslaved to a system that values profit over people, power over principle. Capitalism is the only God this nation worships, and human lives are its sacrifice. They want us divided, disconnected, and discouraged. They want us thinking we are powerless.
But even as despair settles over us today, we will not let this be the final word. Change is not just needed—it is demanded. The time has come for us to reveal the strength they hoped we’d forget. Because let me tell you, this system was not built for human rights, dignity, or respect. It was built to divide, to deepen wounds, and to turn our pain into profit. But we are not powerless.
And so, in this moment, we must turn to those who hold our hearts. We must lift up the women and girls in our communities, and tell them that we love them. We must promise to fight for a world that honors their dignity and their dreams. Our daughters, grand daughters, nieces, aunties our wives, our mothers, grandmothers, our sisters—they are the heart of our struggle and the best of us.
We see now what must be done. Our voices must grow louder, our resolve stronger, and our unity unbreakable. We can no longer lie to ourselves. There is no leader, no institution, no system that we can look to for salvation. The truth is harsh but liberating—change must come from us.
There are no winners here, because we are all bound by the cost of our nation’s refusal to confront its own soul. This fight is not over; it’s only beginning. We carry the weight of betrayal and despair today, but we also carry the seeds of transformation. We are awake. And let this awakening be the beginning of a new chapter—a chapter where we reclaim the truth, where we demand justice, and where we refuse to allow any person or institution to strip us of our humanity.
So, let us stand together, with heads held high and hearts fierce. We may be in pain, but we are not defeated. We may have been cast aside, but we will not be silenced. Change is coming—because we, the people, will make it so. And we will do it for those who mean the most to us—for our daughters, for our mothers, and for every life that deserves to be valued and free.
