Existential hope by @BloggersRUs

Existential hope

by Tom Sullivan

Summer Sunrise over the Mojave, shot at 6:26am on 23, August 2017. Photo by Jessie Eastland (CC BY-SA 4.0).

The existential dread Ed Kilgore feels is understandable. The dawn of 2020 brings with it the possibility of a second term for Donald Trump term:

Three years into his reign, it’s harder than ever to accept that so many wage earners lionize this billionaire surrounded by billionaires who has never sided with working people in any conflict with the malefactors of great wealth, or to accept that so many law-abiding people celebrate his lawlessness, or to accept that millions of Bible-believing Christians look at this heathenish bully who exemplifies every vice and form of idol worship the Good Book warns them about and see a redeemer.

Kilgore was born and raised in the South where Trumpism is "intensely" popular. He understands but cannot accept the resentments of Trump fans. A minority of Southerners still carry chips on their shoulders left over from the War of Northern Aggression. Plus, an inferiority complex they compensate for with the kind of chest-thumping bluster the president displays every day. Trump may not get them, but they get him. A lot of other Americans who, rightly or wrongly, feel put down by life do as well.

Part of that comes from being raised in more homogeneous communities where outsiders stick out (or were relegated to the wrong side of the tracks). The human scenery in such places is changing in ways that seem threatening. Political and economic power is shifting. Those accustomed to being in control don't like it.

People raised in larger cities get early exposure to a broader mix of languages, lifestyles, and cultures. A playwright friend raised in the Bronx described it as a vibrant mix of cultures, languages, foods and religions. By the time he was nine, he'd been in all of his friends' homes, slept over maybe, and eaten their mothers' food. The religious iconography on the walls may have been different from his home, but that didn't make them a threat. They were just his friends' parents.

That willingness to accept peoples' differences sustains hope that this nation of immigrants isn't done accepting. The "Trumpian experiment in populist white nationalism" simply has exposed another of America's dark, family secrets. Ask around the South or read Faulkner. There's nothing new about those.

How we respond in 2020 will determine whether Trumpism is an aberration or a new normal. I have hope it is the former and plan to work to make sure of it.

As people reviewed the decade last night, this 2017 snapshot from New York City appeared in my social media feed. May it light your way in 2020.

Donald Trump had been in the Oval Office for two weeks:

I got on the subway in Manhattan tonight and found a Swastika on every advertisement and every window. The train was silent as everyone stared at each other, uncomfortable and unsure what to do.

One guy got up and said, "Hand sanitizer gets rid of Sharpie. We need alcohol." He found some tissues and got to work.

I've never seen so many people simultaneously reach into their bags and pockets looking for tissues and Purel. Within about two minutes, all the Nazi symbolism was gone.

Nazi symbolism. On a public train. In New York City. In 2017.

"I guess this is Trump's America," said one passenger. No sir, it's not. Not tonight and not ever. Not as long as stubborn New Yorkers have anything to say about it.

May all our 2020s look like that.

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And thank you so much for reading and supporting my work all these years. I am truly grateful. --- d