Donald Trump returning to power would be calamitous, because he would actually do the reckless, destructive things he is threatening.
My voice-to-text transcribed that last phrase as “he is pregnant.” If he were, I would support his right to make his own reproductive decisions. If I were the baby, I would prefer to be switched with another in the nursery after birth to avoid ever being known as his child.
Many people are annoyed by the flood of political ads on television. One I have seen repeatedly in the Washington media market is from Maryland US Senate candidate Larry Hogan claiming he will codify Roe v. Wade into law. Hogan is a Republican, and if his party wins control of the Senate, they will abolish the filibuster and pass a nationwide abortion ban.
Annoyances are things like my smartphone transcribing things badly, or an online game making me say no to the pop-up ad four times before letting me play, or the woman at the bakery shouting people’s orders. The damage done to our social fabric by Trump’s constant lies and viciousness is far more grave.
Permit me, therefore, to share a couple examples of people the MAGA mob would seek to erase.
One morning I encountered Kevin, a young Black gay man, as I sat at an outside table. He had been rendered homeless by his mother, a Christian zealot who regularly beat him in accordance with no directive by Christ that I ever saw. He is a sweet fellow who is resourceful enough to maintain himself despite his circumstances.
I offered him counseling that I have offered the LGBTQ+ refugees in Kenya whom I help: “You are better than those who persecute you. There is nothing wrong with the way God made you. You have as much right to pursue your own happiness as anyone else.”
As I spoke to him, he reached across the table and started rubbing my hand. He was charming, and I allowed it for a while.
I asked him if he had sought assistance from the DC government. He had not. He has no phone. I asked where he was staying; he gestured and said, “Around.”
When I told him I had to go, he asked if I wanted him to wait there for me. I thought, my goodness, he’s ready to move in. I made a reference to my fiancé to indicate my relationship status. It is awkward to talk about personal boundaries, but without them one can drown in other people’s suffering.
When I told a friend about Kevin, he reminded me of Us Helping Us (UHU), a community-based organization in the Washington, DC area “committed to improving the health and well-being of communities of color” and “reducing the impact of HIV/AIDS in the entire Black community.” I wrote down UHU’s contact information and put it in my wallet.
I ran into Kevin again several days later. I gave him the information and said UHU could help him. He studied it and put it in his pocket. He was in a hurry to get somewhere. I hope he contacts them.
Another morning, I encountered a neighbor recently diagnosed with cancer. Lee, now in his 80s, was being pushed in his wheelchair by his 25-year-old straight grandson Liam on their morning stroll.
Lee’s partner Don died four years ago. Liam and his family attended Don’s memorial service. Before he met Don, Lee was married to a woman with whom he had four children. He has 14 grandchildren. As we chatted, I joked that Trump would approve of his success as a patriarch, though he might be bothered by some of the details.
America’s social fabric was woven not by government dictate, but by people of all kinds over time. If Trump wins in November, how much of it will he try to rip out? As Adam Serwer of The Atlantic wrote, “The cruelty is the point.”
Even if we defeat Trumpism, the supremacists will fight our egalitarian republic every step of the way. Liam told me about his home county in Virginia where there are still cross burnings.
The world is richer and more varied than we know. The ability to remain open to new things is a gift, not a threat. Those who think they know everything and press coercive certitudes have caused much needless bloodshed over the centuries. We can defeat them if, as Barack Obama said last week in Pittsburgh, we get off our couches, put down our phones, and vote.