The Cap and the Silence

I was confronted with a symbol of hate, deception, and racism last week on a vacation trip to Kentucky. A red "Make America Great Again" cap practically throbbed like a caution light on the head of a member of my family as he walked into the room where I was sitting. To say that I was shocked and unprepared is an understatement. My heart began to pound. The space around it became weighted with anxiety.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to react. I felt the flush of heat burn my cheeks. I felt sick. 

The person wearing the cap doesn’t know what it represents to me. I honestly believe there was no malice intended. Yet I couldn't help but wonder why those with more knowledge weren't more attentive to their surroundings. Then again, I was the outsider, the guest. I was in their environment.

As I sat on the sofa at my parents’ house I was very aware that I was wearing mascara that day. I was also aware that I fully expected acceptance from everyone around me while wearing it. Mascara is not a MAGA cap, but it is a potential button pusher when worn by a male in a family of gun-toting, sports-playing, Southern Baptists. No one said a word about my mascara the entire trip. Just like no one mentions the bracelet with rainbow beads that I sometimes wear while there. Is it avoidance or acceptance? Rainbows and MAGA caps send completely different messages, but I digress.

Additionally, while relaxing inside this household of Trump supporters, I was never hesitant to discuss Michelle Obama’s memoir, Becoming, which I was openly reading at the time.

I tried to put myself on the other side of the Party line, trying to provide the acceptance that I was expecting. How could I expect it yet not give it in return? Aren’t we all human beings, co-mingling with differing opinions? Yet providing that acceptance was hard for me. I sat in silence trying to ignore the rage that was bubbling inside me, just below the surface. 

I was hurt. That cap (and those words) will go down in history as the symbol of a very dark and divided time in America. I will never be able to see it with eyes that don't register negativity.

I may be a Kentuckian by birth, but I am a New Yorker by choice. I knew at an early age that I had to get out of Kentucky. I had to get out of my small town. I knew there was a bigger world out there where I could find the freedom to be myself. Where I could find the freedom to question. I knew there were bigger ideals than what I was taught in Sunday service. 

I am gay, and feminine. I am a believer that Freedom of Religion also means Freedom from. In Trump’s Divided States of America, I am a liberal. I am for progress. I am for gay rights. I am for women’s rights. I am for trans rights. I am for human rights. I am for TRUTH! I believe America was already great.

That cap makes me angry. What it stands for makes me angry. I can’t believe I have family members who believe the huckster who pushes its message. I love the wearer so much, but with caution was the only way I felt I could proceed. I've never been one to rush head-on into conflict. In order to keep the peace, I kept my mouth shut. For this, I am disgusted with myself as much as I am with the cap.

As I sat writing about how this incident affected me, I couldn't help but ponder: does writing about it, rather than confronting it in the moment, make me cowardly or intelligent?

I was the lone blue in a room full of red.