I am deeply sad. I do not blame my dad or the 60 million other Americans who voted for Trump on Tuesday. Most of them do not hate me for my race, or my identity. They hate their lot in this nation, they hate the cards they were dealt, and they are at a loss for how to play them. How did we not hear all of them? And how do we use this moment to invite them into our folds, to understand them vs. ridding them from our lives?

As a member of the media, it is not lost on me our part in this outcome. Did we have a responsibility to democracy? Or did we have a responsibility to clicks, and views, headlines, and advertisers? Were the emails veiled as "journalism" or did the emails keep people transfixed? And at what cost to a nation that keeps us in business? I wish we could have done better.

My dad was sold a dream when he came to this country, one that he now knows was just a dream. Similarly, we were told that "you can be anything if you work harder than the rest." On Tuesday, that, too, was proven to be but a dream. That one woman worked harder than anyone else in government, and yet lost to a billionaire with no experience (not to mention a hateful spirit), is proof that we are oft a country built on wild dreams.

And yet I sit here dreaming of how the next four years - or the next 40 - can be the most wondrous and wild, beautiful and equal. How lucky we are to live in a country where, even with its flaws, our dreams sometimes do come true.