I'm Gay, I'm an Immigrant, I Can't Vote, and I'm Freaking Out

Tuesday was supposed to be one for the history books. My husband voted by 6:01 am, and since I have a green card and cannot vote, I stood by and captured the moment that he fed his ballot into the machine. In anticipation of Hillary Clinton breaking through the ultimate glass ceiling, we spent the afternoon bar-hopping before arriving at what was supposed to be an epic election night party. We reserved a swanky Soho hotel room and cleared my Wednesday schedule to continue the merriment.

I'm only now emerging from the crying fits and nausea brought on by the fact that 48 percent of voters elected an ignorant, misogynistic, racist reality TV star to be our next Commander in Chief.

I was born and raised in Poland, a land of Catholicism and communism, and not the most hospitable environment for a gay boy. So at 17, I seized the opportunity to participate in a high school foreign exchange program in Riverside, CA. The welcoming and accepting Americans made me feel instantly a part of the fabric of this society. I belonged.

Speaking quite personally, as a gay immigrant, my future is looking pretty bleak right now. With Donald Trump elected president, the country I've been calling home for the last 17 years feels anything but safe and secure to me. A line from Polish poet Ignacy Krasicki comes to mind: "Do you know why the bell is so loud? Because it's hollow inside." In less than six hours, we've gone from the land of opportunity to a country that is the butt of the most dangerous jokes.

My head is still spinning as the fog begins to lift and I begin to confront the really scary questions about our future and mine. Will gay marriage be revoked? Will my green card ever become permanent? Will it be voided altogether?

Like so many non-citizens, I have lived through numerous visa-related traumas. After graduating high school, I moved to New York City and spent 10 years cleverly trying to remain in status. There is a chance I've been on every type of visa in existence — tourist, student, work, you name it — all of them renewed multiple times, all of them requiring months of waiting. I chose not to go back home during the process, because my attorney warned that my chance of being able to return to the States was 50-50. Immigrant dreams are filled with nightmare scenarios. Meanwhile, I graduated college in New York, paid taxes every year, and have never been arrested.

After the Supreme Court struck down the Defense of Marriage Act, I was finally able to apply for a green card, based on my marriage to my husband of 14 years. But nothing in this country happens overnight. Despite my being a perfect by-the-book "resident alien," the process has taken years. Although we have heard talk about a wall or about banning certain immigrant groups from entering our country, I'm choosing to believe that the next administration will not turn my recent victories into crushed dreams.

I'm accustomed to — and even embrace — being outnumbered; I've always believed that our differences and unique perspectives make the world stronger. But today, I feel angry, hurt, and befuddled. I just keep asking myself, what is happening?

For as long as I can remember, mastering the English language and graduating from college in the US have topped my list of aspirations. I have always valued the diverse Bennetton ad population in this country, but it failed us in this election. Less than half of all eligible voters cast a vote, which means that roughly 22 percent of the population elected Donald Trump. Now, as a gay immigrant who has done everything by the book, I'm faced with a completely uncertain future, and as a member of the EU, exploring other options is my new reality.

I cannot grasp how anyone who has been even remotely present these past 15 or so months could have cast a vote for Donald Trump. People very close to me — educated, understanding progressives — are among those voters. I was shocked to learn that my best college friend and dear-to-me gal pal is a Trumpeter. Still, another friend says she voted with her wallet, with the "fiscally conservative, socially liberal" reasoning. The day after the election, I didn't pick up a call from a friend who I imagine voted for Trump. Her voicemail saying "If there is anything I can do to help you feel better . . . " angered me even further. We used to chat over wine about the books we read. Now, she and those other two friends are supporting someone who could reduce or annihilate my rights and the rights of others — minorities, women, you name it. I'm ghosting her.

With each passing day, I keep trying to put the election behind me and be optimistic about the future. But after hearing the first members of Trump's cabinet, I am feeling worse, not better about things. I've found at least one thing to be happy about, however: as someone who writes about skin care products professionally, I'm suddenly inspired to write about the most natural-looking bronzers.