At around 10pm ET on election night, with prediction needles listing rightwards, and various friends’ group chats starting to become inundated by the river-of-tears-down-my-face emoji – even that early, we were collectively way beyond a single tear – I left Steve Kornacki frantically bobbing and weaving around a map of Georgia, and went to bed. Somehow, I slept through until the morning, when I awoke in “Trump’s America”, as news organizations were calling it, and to a torrent of emails and notes from friends bemoaning, among other things, the very real possibility of a federal abortion ban.
“Are we still gonna have birth control?” one friend texted, in disbelief.
