Little more than a year ago, Kamala Harris narrowly lost the presidential election. She may have suffered a swing-state sweep, but Donald Trump’s 49.8 percent win was hardly a mandate. Consider Franklin D. Roosevelt won his first term with a bit more than 57 percent. That’s a mandate.

But lose, she did. And I cried twice. Some frail dudes might not like admitting that, but I’m not so self-loathing that I’m compelled to deny human emotions. Initially, maybe a day after the vote, talking to a neighbor on our building’s shared roof, my throat seized mid-sentence and I excused myself. I may have plenty to cry about, but I don’t ever want it to make me the center of attention.

My emotions, as best I can recall, centered on shock and disappointment. That my fellow Americans could look at a second helping of the man who rallied a mob to storm our Capitol, a man who routinely demeans women, a felon a dozen times over, a habitual liar, and decide — if only by a hair — that he was a better choice than America’s first female vice president left me painfully disappointed, indeed.

Yes, the post-Covid economy was bad, but that was hardly unique to America. And our recovery was among the best in the world. Sound policy pays off, even if the road back was hardly pleasant. Maybe if swing voters read Harris’s economic platform, things might have gone differently. The center-right Manhattan Institute asked voters, for example, which candidate’s views better aligned with their own. On economics, it was 50-46, Trump on top. I suppose some people really did want to dump the ACA subsidies.

The second time I cried, after an early evening outing with some real estate colleagues, just three days after the vote, I was more selfish. I was thinking about my livelihood. I am not a realtor, but I do work behind the scenes in the industry. After some very slow years, I had hoped that a Harris win would return to Washington some of that Obama magic. Back then, an Obama date night could get the city buzzing. Michelle doing an installment of “Carpool Karaoke” improved the whole city’s disposition. God knows Kamala and Doug out on the town would leave us as dazzled as when the Second Gentleman joined our Capital Pride Parade.

Magic was not in the cards. Instead, we got chaos, cruelty, and corruption. And the DOGEbags. Friends and neighbors lost jobs. USAID, Voice of America, various nonprofits. It’s been brutal. And reckless. Russ Vought, Director of the Office of Management and Budget, wanted to traumatize federal employees and he did a bang-up job. In the wake of the carnage, clients who had previously planned to move D.C. thought twice. Folks who thought about changing residences within the city decided to hold tight and wait for things to settle. Still waiting.

Axios recently spoke with Lisa Sturtevant about the D.C. area’s housing market. Sturtevant is the chief economist for Bright MLS, the service that lists all sorts of real estate across the mid-Atlantic. She wasn’t too upbeat. Why not? In a word: Trump.

Starting my day, my first thoughts may have turned to this being the fifth anniversary of Trump’s mob storming our Capitol. At least there were distractions, like this NPR headline that also greeted my morning: “More seniors are becoming homeless. Shelters are trying to adapt.” Lovely.

CVS also sent an automated message advising that my depression meds are ready. Reduced to a backstop insurance of last resort in the wake of the aforementioned ACA subsidies being abandoned, I’m anxious about what they’ll cost. But without the subsidies, my already expensive premiums were set to roughly double. There was one alternative option on the table, but I was declined. Was it the high blood pressure? I don’t know. After years of Obamacare, I didn’t realize insurers could still decline people. I’d been lulled into thinking we lived in a civilized country. The hacking cough that likely needs a handful of cheap antibiotics? I’ll hold off, since this lesser insurance doesn’t cover my provider, and God knows what the full cost of a quick consult would be. The same goes for that follow-up anal Pap smear I’m due for. This country does not make deciphering insurance easy, much less accessing it.

While so many in the country are suffering, it’s not just the housing market that hurts a bit more here in D.C. Consider that, by some measures, D.C. has the highest concentration of LGBTQ residents. So whatever happens in D.C. has an outsized effect on our community.

Add to that survey data published by the Center for American Progress and the National Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago, covering a range of community issues. Economics was part of it.

“The mean household income for LGBTQI+ adults last year (2023) was $69,670 — more than $12,000 less than the mean household income of non-LGBTQI+ adults in the same period,” the report reads. “Significant numbers of LGBTQI+ respondents — including 55 percent of intersex adults, 40 percent of Hispanic/Latino LGBTQI+ adults, and 35 percent transgender adults — also reported that this discrimination had a ‘moderate or significant’ negative impact on their financial well-being in 2024.”

Gay Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent may be doing just fine, but he’s hardly reflective of the community. He won’t be affected by the District’s billion-dollar shortfall.

Here in D.C., we can also more easily keep tabs on the vulgar new ballroom while we watch our taxes wasted on throngs of National Guard ordered to walk the streets needlessly, when they should be back at home with their loved ones, living their lives. Come June, the weekend we’d expected Capital Pride to return, we’re instead promised an Ultimate Fight Championship extravaganza at the White House. Maybe you remember UFC’s Conor McGregor visiting the White House last St. Patrick’s Day? McGregor is the Irish charmer a Dublin jury in 2024 found liable for sexual assault. Birds of a feather, they say. At least we’ll get Capital Pride the weekend of June 20.

While my 2025 theme was colored with resolve and resistance, at this point I’m heading into the new year with rage. Seven months of last year had me out in the streets for some protest or other. What does 2026 have in store? I’ve certainly not lost my fight. If anything, I’ve less to lose and I’m all out of bubblegum. My plea to those of you who have been watching from the sidelines is to get involved. It’s been heartening to see the masses of compatriots challenging the first year of this foul administration.

The midterms are already in play, providing an easy in for participation. If you don’t want to march and shout, join a campaign. Register voters. Write letters. There’s an avenue for everyone. And avenues are streets. Whose streets? Our streets.

Will O’Bryan is a Metro Weekly senior contributing editor. He lives with his husband in Washington, D.C. Find him online at LifeInFlights.com