On November 9th, I woke up and turned on the TV to confirm that what I feared was true; America had elected Donald Trump to the highest office in our country. I turned the TV off immediately. As I began my day, I grappled with the uncertainty of my future and my place in Donald Trump’s America. I mentally catalogued the countless assaults on LGBTQ rights that have occurred at the hands of now Vice-President-Elect, Mike Pence, and felt a crushing sense of fear. Truly, the worst kind of fear. Not the kind of giddy anticipation of something that is going to jump out at you or shock you, but rather the kind of fear that slowly descends upon you. In a word, I felt small.

Once at school, my fear gave way to sickness as I listened to the stories of my peers. Women who are afraid to wear the hijab to school. Students who are uncertain of their parents’ safety in America. On Twitter, a growing thread called “Day 1 in Trump’s America” chronicled the countless hate crimes that followed in the wake of Trump’s victory. As I synthesized each of these stories and events, I took solace in the fact that many around me were also mourning in fear and confusion.

As the day progressed, I started feeling frustration towards those who did not share this fear. While I had always considered the devastating consequences of a Trump victory, I never expected how personal it would feel. As I passed by smiling faces and heard giggling voices in the hallway, I felt infuriated by many of my classmates’ apathy towards what was going on around them. Yes, I do have a very personal stake in this election and dread the likely rollback of LGBTQ rights that is to come. However, the better part of my outrage and fear is rooted in the compassion I feel towards my fellow classmates whom the Trump campaign has also targeted. But, as anger turned to motivation, I realized that this passion is what will fuel our fight for the next two, four, or – God forbid – eight years until we start to see some change.

On November 8th, just before my mom and I entered our polling place, I exclaimed with a sense of unwavering patriotism, “Let’s go do some democracy!” That day, it meant proudly filling in some ovals. Today, it means we act. From a very young age, we are all urged to do what is “right” and “good.” I feel a rock hard allegiance to that goal. Sadly, that spirit of “doing good” appears to be lost right now.

So, we’ve got work to do. As someone who has worked for three summers supporting political campaigns and watching, first hand, how energy and organization can make a difference, I am ready to get started. Grassroots engagement is our anthem, and tolerance our rallying cry. As we refuse to yield, we cannot let our anger escape us or our motivation falter. We have the strength to bend our nation in the direction we want it to go, but only if we work together as one unstoppable force. It’s time to roll up our sleeves, and get in the ring.