I’ve always had a complicated, cynical relationship with politics. I grew up mistrustful of politicians. I saw elected leaders and representatives lie frequently, and manipulate, and break promises. My Prime Minister was Tony Blair, a man with enough charisma to charm my immigrant mother and then betray her with Britain’s involvement in the Iraq War. It’s no secret: I’ve never trusted politicians.

When I was a child, I was convinced that I would never vote. Our democratic system is flawed and it means that constituencies with smaller populations can decide who governs the rest of the country. Our democratic system is flawed because our politicians are rarely held accountable for spewing blatant lies or preying on the vulnerable. Our democratic system is flawed because our collective memory is about five seconds long and we keep electing parties that want to destroy most of the country.

I never believed I would contribute to this system but since then, I’ve reached voting age. And since childhood, my country has had many opportunities to reject a Tory government and I’ve seen it vote for fear and bigotry instead.

Last year, our latest Tory government called for a referendum on whether Britain should remain in the EU. Amongst campaigns built on xenophobia and racism, amongst widespread ignorance about what leaving the EU might actually mean for Britain – and, in particular, for its young people – and amongst a disturbing lack of concern for what this could mean for immigrants and other marginalised people, I voted.

This year, our unelected Prime Minister called for a snap general election, and once again, I voted.

I live in London. Since reaching voting age, I have lived in areas that are pretty solid Labour areas. I still don’t particularly feel like my vote matters under our current election system but it’s literally the bare minimum I can do to stand up for what I believe in. So, I voted and then I hoped.

Over the last six weeks, Labour ran a campaign that inspired people to hope once again. My whole life, I haven’t seen this kind of enthusiasm or interest in politics, especially in young people like myself. I felt possibility once again, alongside a clear rejection of right-wing mantras asking us to mistrust and hate each other. Whilst I and many people I know still believed we’d end up with a Tory majority government, I felt like there was a chance for something else. I felt like we were fighting for something better.

Labour didn’t win a majority in the end. Perhaps if the media hadn’t constantly attempted to smear Jeremy Corbyn, and perhaps if members within the Labour party had supported their leader wholeheartedly, we would have seen a different result. In context, we knew it would take a miracle for Labour to win outright. Corbyn’s values - and his unwavering dedication to a better nation for everyone - are still seen as ‘radical’ by many. Compassion and community are still a fringe stance.

Yet, in 2017, Labour made their greatest gains since 1997 alongside their largest vote share since the 40s. Most importantly, they’ve instilled in many a renewed interest and passion to get involved with politics.

In this election, Labour’s campaign reflects hope itself. Politicians like Corbyn and Diane Abbott have fought against a tirade of hateful abuse to uplift voters and make us feel like positive change is possible. On Friday morning, I woke up to a celebration. We didn’t win the election but we sure as hell won.

But here’s where hope can get twisted, because the fight isn’t over. We still have a Tory PM, right-wing sentiments are still rampant, and Conservative policies are still killing people. This is when people flag in their passion and motivation because what comes next is harder, it’s thankless.

Hope doesn’t exist without disappointment, and vice versa. Some people feel the disappointment and they despair. What’s the point? Labour did well but they didn’t do well enough to oust the Tories, so why celebrate? Why hope?

Even if Labour had won a majority, the fight would not be over. Hatred and bigotry don’t exist in this country because of the Conservatives alone. Plus, political action takes time and people will die in the interim.

We can’t rely only on politics or leaders to enact positive change. We need to work in and for our communities – both local and beyond. A vote is not enough. The work needs to continue in direct action (to whatever capacity any given individual can realistically achieve) and that’s where most people stumble.

It’s also where I think Labour has won their victory during this campaign. Because direct action isn’t just about supporting your local charity or attending a march. It’s about connecting with your community and making a difference, no matter how small. Labour has helped many to realise that we’re all capable of making change, and that change matters most when it’s happening at ground level where we – and those around us – can see it and feel it.

Currently, we don’t know how our government is going to look as we move forward. Things are still uncertain and likely to remain this way for at least the next few months, if not years. People at risk are still in danger and we’re asked to remain hypervigilant as Theresa May looks to the DUP for support. We have not fixed any problems yet – but now, despite the disappointment and threat, I see more and more people ready to take on the next challenge. We’re not giving up.

Labour’s success isn’t just a parliamentary one, it’s a win for empowerment. It’s a reminder to keep fighting and working, that every step forward matters. It’s a reminder to ask for more, to never back down, and above all, to hold onto what we want – and what we hope for.

Heavy Machinery is written by Zainabb Hull and powered by Jezza.
Like my work? Buy me a damn fine coffee.