Show White Women Who Voted Trump Some Mercy.

Please.

They are honestly just exhausted as fuck.

I mean, they are TIRED.

I need you to understand what it must be like for these women. You need to find some EMPATHY.

They have had to spend the last few weeks — months even — trying to muster up every part of their being to just move through their days seeking love and wanting kindness while pretending their grotesque racism and bigotry was about … eggs.

Eggs.

Things deposited from a 7 inch version of a dinosaur.

Tiny little oval shaped wanna be chickens have to become their whole ass identity.

That has got to be some serious exhausting shit.

Like, we just celebrated Halloween. Costumes are not easy. Or cheap. Dressing up as a character takes dedication and energy. But at least the payoff is the candy tax you pair with wine. These women can’t enjoy that kind of relief.

Nope. They have to wear that mask and face paint every single day. And look you straight in the face and say they chose to put this fascist ass backwards bullshit ideology back in the White House because they like to make quiche.

I make quiche. Making quiche is not easy. It is on your feet work to get it right. And I use a good 5–6 eggs per pie. I get tired. You know what it’s like. Try to know what it’s like.

I make them for family. I make them for friends. I drop them off at the neighbors on occasion.

Now imagine for just a moment you do all that. And then? You have to drag your ass over to that home with your hard labor wrapped up in foil and you have to stand there with a smile and look those people in the eye and say it was because of the eggs. That’s why you don’t care if people die.

My god.

That is more pretend than I can fathom.

And I work in entertainment.

And trust me when I tell you that cracking the mic lately has *not* been easy. I have to exude cheer and feel good for the women who betrayed so many, including my family. But at least I get to turn that mic off and be me.

They never get to do that. They can’t. Because if they do, then no one is going to come for Thanksgiving. No one will meet them for coffee. My god… some people won’t even… say nice things.

Listen to me. These women have people saying mean things. Have you no heart? Have you no understanding?

Dear lord.

What is wrong with you. The struggle these women feel is REAL.

They wake up every single morning, look in the mirror, get dressed and practice their speech so they can spend an entire day saying they voted the way they did over the cost of something they decorate with cheap food dye every Spring.

I mean. That has got to be EXHAUSTING.

Let alone the total humiliation it must bring. How completely embarrassing it must be. Their ancestors are probably looking down on them in shame. These sad souls can’t even be like grandma was back then.

You know, loud and proud and just tossing those eggs onto children.

So, please, hear me when I tell you that we need to understand their fatigue. We need to better relate to how they are feeling. They have real pain we have to acknowledge here. Real suffering.

These women never get a break from hiding. They have to do this shit dawn until dusk and in their sleep.

They can’t even eat those eggs in a diner. They are on call 24/7 to tell the world that the sunny side scramble makes sense. Cameras and mics shoved in their faces. Focus groups and phone calls and Op-Eds. There is no rest for these weary women.

These women who have voted plantation over and over and over and over again. But have to say with a straight face they only did it for the price of Hollandaise.

How could anyone do that consistently and not want a break. Not just want to sleep all day.

They must be TIRED as fuck.

And you are in denial if you say you wouldn’t be.

How would you like to be muzzled like that? Having to make stuff up? Just trying to be happy with glee but you have to lie to everybody and say things like “I just voted for the economy”, “I was concerned about bathrooms”, “ I think we all need unity.”

Sure, they get talking point cheat sheets…but… the redundancy alone has got to be tiring.

(If you’ve ever played with a toddler, you should know what I mean.)

Stop and think about how hard it would be. To have to consistently fabricate a fantasy that tells the world you aren’t even good at grocery store budgeting.

Day after day after day. After day.

They can’t even be themselves in their own homes. They are comfy on a couch just trying to scroll along. And now they have to create weird personas of themselves just to troll. Just for one little reply or meme to validate their worth.

My. God. That is depressing as fuck.

These women cannot rest for one solitary moment. Everything is an illusion, everything a pretense.

Haven’t we all known what that’s like? When we throw those not so clean pans back in the cupboard? When we rearrange the furniture? When we dust off what’s seen and spray the Febreze and hope against hope no one will notice all the cobwebs we leave. Because the stains are too deep to come clean.

Can you IMAGINE that every moment of your life?

I’m exhausted for them.

It’s like your mother in law is *always* coming over.

Could you do that?

I couldn’t. But they can.

That’s the world they live in.

Could we please stop for just a heartbeat and think of them? Please find the compassion to extend some grace for the hell they must be in?

These women cannot even invoke their ancestors. Generation upon generation of pride they have to ignore.

That’s the real gut punch.

These poor, pitiful people don’t even get to celebrate where they came from. Legacies of those like them who never had to hide a thing.

Like… those who got to paint their lips in red and wear heels under a perfectly pristine white robe tailored just for them:

These sad sorrowful people do not even have the energy to make signs and poster boards:

They are simply too tired explaining away their vote. They have to spend all their waking moments telling people an Omelet is why they colored in that oval that way.

If I had to lie all the time about how I colored in an oval within the lines, I’d be tired too. I once lied to a child that their drawing looked good. Sure it was easy. But I didn’t have to do that every single day of the week.

They do. How? I honestly don’t know.

When eggs cost more than I can afford, I just don’t buy them. Can’t spare $3 this week. Guess we’re going without. But that doesn’t mean I don’t grieve for the down trodden person who drove their non-efficient gas guzzling vehicle to the Trader Joe’s or Aldi.

I’m not heartless and without empathy. And you shouldn’t be either.

It is hard for them.

They have to hide even among friends. Saying things like “politics isn’t personal”, “I don’t talk about my vote” and “I didn’t like either of them”.

They even do this at church. In front of their god and congregation.

Ouch.

That’s gotta hurt.

Even in their most sacred places. They have to be someone they can’t.

Could you, who espouse tolerance, at least think of them?

These tired ass women can’t even make grandpa and grandma proud. They know they can’t match the endurance of generations ago. When sleep deprivation didn’t get in the way of floats:

Looking at these photos must feel like a constant state of shame. They can only dream of a world where that can be true for them.

And you know these folks absolutely wish they could just construct them again.

That’s so very sad.

Because the lumber is right there… and they have to say it’s for a property fence. A fence they now have to build. So much more fucking work than they ever wanted to do.

My lord.

How labor intense.

Can you imagine building a whole fucking fence around your land just to keep up the facade that you cared about the cost of something coming out of the bottom of a hen?

The humiliation that must be built in. What an exhausting day to day this life they are living is.

They have to be tired as fuck.

But they still manage to get up every day and are forced to go to work or make viral videos pretending they are good and all is okay.

I can’t even do that and I’m at least trying.

These sad, sorrowful, poor, devoid of empathy human beings are just drained and depleted all day every day just pretending they belong in society.

Hoping we won’t turn them away.

They need and want us. They say.

So, show a little grace. And compassion. Is it really okay they are being called the villains?

When all they are is longing for rest. Longing for a day when it’s all great again. When they just no longer have to pretend. Give them some props for the endurance they show.

After all, even with the high cost of a dozen, they are still whipping up those deviled eggs for their children. You know, like back when it was all just easier and they could kick back and relax and enjoy a family picnic at a lynching.

Lord have mercy indeed.

Statistics from the 2024 Presidential Election between the Vice President of the United States, Kamala Harris and convicted felon, backed by the KKK and other well known Nazi groups, Donald Trump showed that white women overwhelmingly chose to vote for him or not vote the top of the ticket at all. Trump won a plurality of the vote with one of the narrowest margins since Presidential elections began.

Additional Reading & Resources:

“The Decent White Woman Who Voted For Trump” — 2016

“My White Privilege” — with resources included to study the data.

“Stop Blaming White Privilege” — LaSha, Blavity 2015.

Black Girl in Maine Media — Shay Stewart-Bouley

Elizabeth Grattan is a broadcast talent and writer who has covered current events, human interest and social justice for over three decades. Her loves are laughter through tears, old ball caps, reasonably priced blended reds and her dream come true little man. Find & friend Elizabeth on FB or follow along on BlueSky or Threads. Subscribe to the Newsletter on BeeHiiv.