Brógan and I are at my parents for the afternoon because the bathroom at our place is being re-drywalled after the landlord's upstairs drain leaked into the ceiling lath and soaked the plaster. The reason for leaving was, admittedly, more to avoid having to have conversation than to avoid being in the way. So I'm baking cookies for my family to keep my hands busy and whittle down some anxiety since I can't paint.
The feelings and lists of questions and fears in my head is extremely sisyphean. The more I try to answer or quell them, the more pop up.
I could go on and on about my parents' white, upper-middle-class neighbours who drive their gigantic brand-new gas-guzzling pick-up trucks to cozy office jobs, blaring songs about digging in the dirt while drinking beer written by some rich fucker on a jet plane sponsored by Miller Lite who's never touched soil in his life, who bitch about how "their" jobs were taken by immigrants and how they feel "offended" by the "sand-niggers" down the street, about how they are so upset that Christian-Centric activities were removed from public schools and how climate change is a myth (supported by their Heroic And Noble Leader who says the Chinese invented it.)
My blood is boiling.
I'm reminded of Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation, about McLuhan's The Medium Is The Message; society cares very little for the realness of things - it is the image, the representation of the thing, that is most important.
America has officially legitimized racism, hate, xenophobia, misogyny, Islamophobia, homophobia, bullying, anti-intellectualism, and cultural warfare. It has officially said "this is all good." This is the most terrifying part of all.
It seemed supporting Trump was somewhat of a faux-pas for a while. Particularly around our neck of the woods - a lot of blue-collar, old-school union workers and second-generation Irish and Italian immigrants mixed with young liberals, college students, and new families - our city voted in overwhelming favor of Bernie back in the primaries. I think I saw maybe two Trump stickers / signs the entire time.
But boy, now that their Heroic And Noble Leader is Everyone's Leader, have they come out of the woodwork.
On an overpass of the highway about two streets down from where Jack, Brógan and I live, there were a bunch of Sanders signs once upon a time. After Hillary was officially elected as the Democratic candidate, those signs slowly came down, and weren't replaced with pro-Hillary ones. But the day following Trump's election, as I headed to the art museum to spend the afternoon tearful in the presence of Kara Walker's current (phenomenal, powerful) exhibition, I noticed the bridge was covered in poorly handmade signs that read "TRUMP = TRUTH", "LOCK HER UP," "GOD LOVES TRUMP," and until yesterday, one that said "TRUMP" with the t fashioned as a swastika. A friend, who lives in a predominantly Mexican part of town, reported, the morning after Trump's election, that her college-age white boy neighbours had skipped school to blare country music out of their car, wave Trump flags, drink beer, and shout "fuckin' wetbacks!" at the Mexican men passing by, while demanding that the women"Show us your jugs!"
I don't want to believe that this is what's to come, but as the hours tick by, more and more stories of this sort of behaviour are surfacing. Sure, it happens on it's own - it always has, because humans can never agree, because they feel like they need, desperately, some sort of hierarchy against one another, because diversity is an integral part of us as a species and society has a real fucking hard time with it. But now this behaviour is seemingly legitimized, as people, mainly young ones, do it in increasingly in the name of their Heroic And Noble Leader.
And to be fair, I've heard a fair share of liberals acting out violently as well. Slandering, name calling, pointing fingers - it's just as bad. Unfortunately, I exist in a sort of liberal bubble, so most of what I see (and I don't watch television, so, there's that cut out as well) is from that point of view rather than the other.
You know, I never have identified with America. Never in my life. I've never owned, coveted, or sported an American flag in any way. The National Anthem has never caused me to tear up. I hated, hated standing in class every single day, pledging allegiance to the flag. It's not that I'm anti-American (though, at this rate, I'm on the road headed there), it's not that I don't like the country (although right now, it makes me feel sick), but I never felt identified with it, never felt that sort of nationalism or pride - it always left a sour taste in my mouth and made me want to run and hide. Don't get me wrong - I never take for granted the rights and privileges and safeties that are here, that so much of the world is denied. But on a personal level...it's been hard. Maybe it's because I was raised by immigrants, taught to embrace a different part of the world. Maybe it's because I don't have roots here, no roots older than about 60 years anyway.
And now, in the midst of this country's approval of so many things that go against my very core morals, the overwhelming realization that so many people I know, people I love, silently supported those things, that everywhere I go I am undoubtedly surrounded by people who just couldn't be arsed - I feel smaller, and more disconnected, than ever.
The hardest part is not letting my own cynicism take hold. Not letting my own anger, fear, mistrust, and antipathy fog my sight - to not sink to that level, to not further strengthen the divide by finger-pointing, spewing hatred, or closing my ears. The real battle lies not in taking anyone down, but in learning to understand, in not shutting out anyone, despite whatever I might feel. This is difficult. So difficult. As I sit at my parents and look out at those stupid pick up trucks, I see these people around me - who have helped me, my family, who have loved us, laughed with us, shared life and precious time with us, who have given selflessly to us, who I have believed to be good and kind - in a different light, holding so much hatred and utter disregard for the simple, beautiful commonality and diversity of humankind. So, what next? I don't know. But I do know that everyone is afraid of something, everyone is angry at something.
This post brought to you by the noise in Kaetlyn's head that she can't shut up.
On a lighter note though, it was Brógan's 9th birthday yesterday. 9 going on 5, I swear it. I can hardly believe it. He received a new tug-rope toy to play with Jack, and a gigantic frosted dog biscuit. And a trip to the park.
