We knew we would be witnessing an unprecedented election result, regardless of who won the presidency. There were millions of Americans who believed they would be telling their daughters after this election, "See? You can be president, too."

Obviously, that's not the conversation we're having.

Instead, for those whose children have heard their president-elect talk about their ethnicity, religion or race in the worst possible way, the conversations are very hard. For parents who are teaching their children the importance of being kind, respectful and honest, we might be struggling for the words to explain how a candidate who embodied none of those traits won a contest to lead the country.

I know I'm not the only parent who saw fear in my children's faces and heard confusion in their voices on election night or in the aftermath. I watched them struggle to make sense of what they were seeing. If it is hard for us to process, it is even harder for them.

This is an important reality check moment for our country. And the takeaway for parents is that we will have to model the behavior and reactions we want our children to have.

We teach them to respond to bullying and name-calling by standing up for ourselves and our friends.

We teach them resilience by being stronger. We teach them how to cope with scary unknowns by being brave.

This is what parents have done in the darkest chapters of our country's history. We raise our heads. We draw our allies closer. We find ways to survive and protect the ones we love.

And we also level with our children -- no matter how much we want to shelter them from ugly truths.

It's OK to tell them there are still millions of sexist and racist people. And that many of our fellow countrymen still promote those ugly ideas. We have to be able to acknowledge and recognize the depth of our country's racism and sexism. It's okay to admit that you misjudged the character of the country. It's important to tell them that the best person for the job doesn't always get the job.

It doesn't mean we lose hope. The morning after the election, I hugged both my children very tightly before I sent them off to school. I asked them how they would respond to the talk in school. We discussed acceptable responses to what people might say. I told my daughter: "I love you, and you need to know that I will always do everything in my power to protect you, your brother and your father. I'm still the boss of this family."

She smiled and said, "Well, you can't really argue with that."

I wanted to see that smile despite the ache in my own heart. I wanted to reassure them despite my own uncertainty. I am heartbroken because a divisive message of hate and fear was more powerful than one of acceptance, respect, civility and love. I'm sad for our children and our country's future. But, I am not surprised. I saw how people changed once their worst impulses were validated. I read it in my emails, heard it in my voicemails and saw it in people's behavior.

I did not underestimate racism and sexism.

That said, I am not afraid.

I am an American Muslim woman living in a red state. The state can try to curtail my rights. The extreme right can try to threaten and intimidate me. The economy may tank, and we may see a lot more racist violence.

But I am in control of my own mind and heart and soul. And I refuse to live in fear in my own country.

I will work to make it a more just and compassionate place and do my best to protect my family. I will continue to believe in the goodness of the people I know and trust in a Greater Power to protect us all.

I reached out to my closest friends and said, "We are all in this together." And they responded, "Of course we are."

Millions of people worked hard for their vision of a united America, and millions will keep working toward it. Despite the election result, that work was not in vain. Nothing done from love is ever in vain.

Remember, light shines brightest in the darkness.

The first time I left our newborn at home with her father, she was 2 1/2 weeks old.

I had confined myself to the house since we brought her home from the hospital. I was still recovering from an emergency C-section that had followed a difficult labor. I was sleep-deprived and trying to figure out how to nurse her without shrieking in pain.

My body felt torn up (probably because it was), and I was anxious about being separated from our baby, even briefly.

But I forced myself into a clean pair of sweats and got behind the wheel of my car for the first time since giving birth.

I drove straight to my polling station. I voted in that midterm election. Then I drove home and fell back into bed.

I had a good idea back then of the political direction my state was headed, based on polling data. I suppose I could have stayed at home, knowing that my individual vote wasn't going to change the outcome.

But since I turned 18, I've never stayed at home on Election Day.

So when GOP presidential nominee Donald Trump tells his supporters they need to "monitor" polling sites, he may not realize the other group to whom he's signaling.

He is also sending a message to those of us who have never taken the right to vote for granted. He's talking to those who don't back down because of self-appointed "monitors."

A recent Huffington Post investigation reported on "Vote Protectors" recruiting Trump loyalists to conduct fake "exit polls" on Election Day. This harkens to the Republican "Ballot Security" strategy in the 1981 New Jersey governor's race, in which the national GOP sent armed, off-duty police officers to the polls in minority neighborhoods.

Trying to rekindle illegal voter intimidation strategies can make targeted communities more resolute in their desire to stand up for their rights. A senior official with the Trump campaign reportedly told Bloomberg BusinessWeek, "We have three major voter suppression operations under way," going on to explain that the campaign is targeting idealistic liberals, young women and African-Americans.

Perhaps they have underestimated women like LaTanya Reeves, 33, of Webster Groves, Missouri. Reeves is an African-American woman who says she recognizes the battles that have been fought to secure her fundamental right as a citizen.

Voting is a sacred responsibility.

"It's my duty to those who came before me," she said. "I am responsible to listen to my ancestors. I am responsible for that."

She doesn't take threats of intimidation or voter suppression efforts lightly. It's personal when someone threatens your voice.

"I'm voting by any means necessary," Reeves said. "I know that I count. I know that I matter."

Ruba Abusharif, 33, a stay-at-home mother in Wildwood, Missouri, knows she matters, too. This is the first election in which she is eligible to vote, having become a citizen in 2013. Her parents had left Palestine as refugees to Jordan -- a monarchy -- and she was born and raised in Saudi Arabia, another monarchy. Never before has Abusharif had a chance to vote for who she believes should lead the country she lives in.

"I'll be voting for the first time in my life," she said. "I don't think there is anything that will intimidate me."

Oftentimes, it's not fear, but rather hassles that prevent people from voting.

A few years before my postpartum vote, there was a midterm election where the polling station didn't have my name on the rolls. I had stopped by after work, and I didn't have enough time to go through whatever appeals process they suggested. I left feeling disgusted and disenfranchised. I vowed to vote as early as possible from then on. Before my children were school-aged, they came to the polls with me, even if I had to stand in line with two toddlers.

There are reasons why women and people of color take this civic duty so seriously, especially this year.

It's how we honor those who fought and died for this right for us.

It's how we respect the legacy of women who were denied the right to have their voices heard before Aug. 18, 1920.

It's how we show our voices matter.

On Nov. 8, we will not be deterred.

Election years can magnify the cracks in even the closest relationships. And this election is the San Andreas of familial and friendship fault lines.

Those who live in politically divided families can either agree to disagree or try to influence the other party without letting it get too personal. But it's hard not to take it personally when the stakes feel so high. Or when the other person's views appear to be based on misinformation or prejudice rather than policy differences. Both leading candidates have large swaths of people who deeply dislike -- even loathe -- them. It's unsettling to see someone you love or admire support someone you feel is dangerous to the country.

One friend confided that he is dreading an extended family vacation soon after the election. Another is worried her relationship with her mother will never recover, based on what she's seen her mom post.

It's similar to the relationship strain people reported after the unrest in Ferguson. Views on police shootings are often influenced by one's own experience with the police, which can vary dramatically by race. Social media laid bare these differences.

In some ways, the fallout from this rancorous, deeply polarizing election has been even harder to take. Sharing one's views on politics, race and religious beliefs always runs the risk of offending those who disagree with you. For ordinary citizens, elections are when beliefs translate into actions that can influence the society in which we live. This is why it can feel like a betrayal when those close to us don't see what we see; we see their actions impacting our lives and our children's futures.

It's hurtful to see a friend or relative share bigoted or sexist views publicly, but even more so if you happen to belong to the targeted group, whether it is Muslims, Mexicans, immigrants or African Americans. It's hard to look at people the same way after learning they believe debunked conspiracy theories.

Often, it's best to limit the mental and emotional toll these interactions can take: No need to engage people of little consequence in your life. High school classmates you haven't spoken to in years? Let them go. Fringe social acquaintances you rarely see in person? Forget about it. The "mute," "unfriend" and "unfollow" features on social media are especially handy this time of year.

But relationships that you want to maintain -- spouses, parents, children, close friends and neighbors -- require a different approach.

A dinner guest recently started railing against illegal immigrants "living off the government" during a family meal. I suppose I could have tried to offer a facts-based argument about the percentage of crimes committed by various groups of people, or shared which demographic group in America is actually most likely to be "living off the government." But I don't think facts would have influenced her opinion. More likely, any counter-argument would have inflamed the situation. So I changed the topic to Mexican desserts.

Gracias, tres leches, for the pivot.

Then there are those who can manage political difference in the most aspirational way.

Alex Kaminski, 32, lives in Maryland Heights, Missouri, and says his family is a mixed lot, politically. He refuses to argue with those "whose information is solely based on political ads on TV and pounded into their heads." There are people on Facebook whose posts he will ignore until the election is over.

He does, however, try to understand and engage with those willing to agree to his ground rules.

"If you really want to talk about this, let's agree to a few rules," he has said to family members. No interrupting, you can't get mad at the other person and you have to listen to one another respectfully.

"You have to try to separate your emotions from what you believe in trying to understand the other person's point of view," he explained. These conversations have actually changed his mind on how he plans to vote in this election.

He had planned to vote for a third party, since he isn't a fan of either major party's candidate.

"Conversations with my mom and sister have convinced me otherwise," he said.

These dinner table discussions show us how civil society functions best.

You ignore the loudmouths, listen to reason and if all else fails, pass the dessert.