American Politics: Whatever Happened to Class?

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There’s a song in the musical Chicago called “Class.” It’s a comedic lamentation performed in earnest by the characters, Velma Kelly and Matron “Mama” Morton bemoaning society’s loss of decorum and manners.

 

The fact that Velma is in jail for murder and “Mama” is the warden who will scratch your back if you scratch hers makes the song even funnier.

 

These are not paragons of society. They are a murderer and an extortionist, respectively. Yet there they are singing:

“Whatever happened to fair dealing? And pure ethics? And nice manners?”

This musical’s story was originally set in the 1920s, but truly, the action could be any time. The lack of respect for others and the deplorable behavior that these two characters are lamenting has never been timelier than right now.

 

In the current political reality show that is American politics—more tragedy than comedy—there is no class on the side of the Republican Party. Most of its members have crossed over to the dark side and should consider renaming themselves the MAGA Party. But I’ll just call them MAGA Republicans for now.

 

The de facto leader of the MAGA Republicans, those Fox-News-watching conservatives, most of whom also consider themselves Christians, is the wolf in sheep’s clothing that my Sunday School teacher warned me about.

He masquerades as a conservative man, a Christian, a savior trying to Make America Great Again, all while stoking the fears associated with Other and Different. He’s a dangerous man. Willing, without compunction, to lie to his followers in order to incite the desired reactions: fear and anger. He’s a revenge-threatening bully; a narcissist with hateful tendencies as ugly as his combover. And the speeches he gives at his rallies and press conferences often make no sense. There isn’t enough money in the Federal Reserve to buy this man class.

 

He has no desire to be courteous. His followers wouldn’t stand for it anyway. He, and they, only want him to be as nasty and politically incorrect as he can. The MAGA Republicans thrive on meals of mockery and disrespect, leaving the table satiated with ignorance. And blissfully happy. They have no desire to seek the truth, believing without hesitation—unquestioning—just as I was taught to do in the pews of the Baptist churches of my childhood. And if they happen to discover the lies aren’t true, they don't apologize for sharing and promoting the lies. Nor do they share the actual truth.

I recently watched John McCain’s concession speech from when he lost the presidential election to Barack Obama in 2008. The man held up his hands to stop those who supported him, disappointed by his loss, from booing as he began the speech. He didn’t speak negatively against Barack Obama. He commended him for “his ability and perseverance.” And admired him for “inspiring the hopes of so many millions of Americans.” He acknowledged the two had differences and that those differences would probably remain, but he pledged his support for the newly elected president and encouraged his supporters to do so as well.

 

A speech that started with booing ended in applause. It was a time when it seems Republicans and Democrats could negotiate their differences, find a compromise, shake hands across the aisle, work together.

That was 2008.

Now we have a fool that purposefully mispronounces the name of the woman running against him for the office of president. And his MAGA followers eat it up.

Sixteen years later, we are in the shadow of a would-be dictator. In two Obama terms and their subsequent years, how did we get here? In sixteen years, how did decades of political civility turn into January 6, 2020? How did it turn into the least productive Congress in our country’s history? How did it turn into name calling and demands for loyalty? How did it turn into such a deeply divided Us vs Them?

A friend once told me that Newt Gingrich, as Speaker of the House, was the man who used his power to inject divisive division into the Party line, cracking it by telling his Republican colleagues to treat their Democrat co-workers as the enemy and to have no dealings with them outside of work. Did it start there in the late 90s? How was that good for the country? For the People?

Back to the grifting shyster who has risen to power as the leader of the MAGA Republicans. He likes to hurl accusatory barbs at the other side, accusing them—us—of doing the very things that he and his followers are actually doing. He demonizes Democrats, Black people, Hispanic people, science, women, democracy, facts, truth. And let’s not forget how he mocked the disabled and veterans. He is concerned with his own power, not with the good of the country.

As for the elected officials who have brown on their faces because their heads are so far up his ass—Marjorie Taylor-Greene, Lauren Boebert, Matt Gaetz, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, Tom Cotton, Josh Hawley, Lindsey Graham (to name a few)—they worship at his feet, forgetting all about the first of the Ten Commandments in the Holy Bible, a book they claim to revere above all others: “Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me.”

I don’t get it. I’m dumbfounded that we are here. I shake my head in disbelief. I continue to wonder how this happened. I no longer trust an American populace that could and would elect Donald Trump. Or any of the above mentioned senators and representatives. They are fucking with too many lives. For what? So women can’t get abortions? So gay people can’t get married? So trans people can’t get the medical care they need or use the goddamn bathroom that goes with their gender identity?

(Side note: No one is coming for their churches. Their right to pray. Or their Bible. Although in the 2024, maybe the Bible should be the top challenged book to be banned instead of Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe. But I digress.)

I leave the last word to “Mama”:

“Jesus Christ, ain’t there no decency left?”

How Are We Going To Find Unity If We Remain Divided?

The clearest path toward unity excludes name-calling and violence. It requires listening and hearing, which involves faith and trust. Can we do it, America? #AmericaDecides2020 #Election2020results #BidenHarris #TrumpPence #CountryOverParty

— Michael Rohrer (@michaelrohrer) November 8, 2020

I tweeted the above thought and question this afternoon. Just after pressing send I thought about my own character in respect to the question I'd posed, "Can we do it, America?".  I replied to myself: "I will struggle with this also. It's been a tough, divisive four years. But we have to be willing to try."

We do have to be willing to try, don't we? I admit that I don't even know how to begin. I will have to seek guidance from those who are more willing and open than I. 

Four years ago, there were so many tears and so many broken hearts amid the shock and confusion of the 2016 election results. For all of those who believed their prefered candidate would win, there was an overwhelming sense by a majority of the country that one of those candidates didn't have a chance. 

We were wrong.

Donald J. Trump was a disruptive candidate from the moment he stepped of the escalator in Trump Tower on June 16, 2015 to announce his candidacy for the office of President of the United States of America--disruptive because it seemed like a publicity stunt; a stunt because it had the potential to pull focus away from the other candidates and the issues they wished to address and their positions on which they wished to state.

As the campaign season gained momentum and Trump became the Republican nominee for President of the United States of America, one swath of Americans felt empowered by the lack of restraint with which he used his words. Another swath sat stunned in a state of shock. The Empowered and the Stunned took completely different approaches in this moment. The Empowered seemed to revel in the nasty frankness while the Stunned settled into the assumption that this bully of a man, with his name-calling rhetoric, couldn't possibly defeat the candidate which they felt was more than qualified for the job.

Surprise! Complacency and inconceivability gave us president Trump. And while many in our country felt that Hillary Clinton was an untrustworthy candidate ill-considered for leading our country, Trump managed to alienate and irritate more Americans that this writer believes Clinton ever could have. However, we will never know if Clinton's presence in the Oval wouldn't have continued to widen the gap in our already faulty division.

Trump traverses in lies and conspiracy theories. He rarely has proof to back up the accusations he so readily spews via his tweets or from the podium at a MAGA rally. He is the Supreme Leader of Misinformation. (Thankfully, Twitter began adding alerts to his tweets about false and misleading information.) 

As the results of the 2020 presidential election began to hit news desks around the country, Trump began to regurgitate, more viciously than he did during the days leading up to the election, his lies about voter fraud. Determined to win even if he had to cheat by saying the other side was cheating.

The other side wasn't cheating. There is no proof of voter fraud. Those who count the votes are bipartisan--Republicans and Democrats coming together to accurately and properly count the votes. Because of Trump's false claims about mail in ballots and absentee ballots leading to fraud, news outlets and social media outlets began to add fact-check flags and misinformation notifications to election related posts in an effort to clarify how the process works, how it has always worked, that it is currently working as it should, and how there is no proof of voter fraud.

True-to-form, Trump's rhetoric led to his most rabid supporters showing up at ballot counting facilities, demanding to be let inside in order to supervise what was already being supervised. Many even arrived with their guns in tow. (And the Left has been deemed a radical mob. Insert eyeroll here.)

With Joe Biden declared the projected winner of the presidency in the United States, there was a flip in the reactions on both sides from those of 2016. 

Dancing in the streets, cheers, noise, and happy tears erupted from those of us excited--and relieved--to find the Trump presidency at its end. But those who support this most divisive, alienating, distracting, and unsettling president ever--although he is fond of saying he's the Most, the Greatest, the Best--reacted with the disbelief that I myself felt four years ago. A major difference is that, while I was shocked, I never suspected voter fraud. Russian interference, yes. But I believed our votes were cast and counted...accurately and properly.

So, back to the question: "Can we do it, America?" That's a big question. And it has no easy answer. I don't even know how to discuss Trump's blatant lies about the election with my Republican family members, let alone his actions over the past four years. The idea gives me agita. I get angry at the imagined conversations (or arguments) in my head, which are based on our previous conversations, or from what I know about their beliefs. If this is the case for me regarding my family--the people who know me and are supposed to love me--how in the world am I then going to be able to listen to what scares (or angers) someone about an America under the leadership and guidance of Joe Biden? 

Unity lies closer to a middle ground than our country has found itself leveled on for many years. The flames of division have been burning for too many of those years, but Trump threw fire on them and stoked them until they burned with a fervor that sent people running to the edges in search of like-minded harmony. Separated by these flames, our country has become the Divided States of America.

Trump seemed to only want to represent those who were loyal to him. Biden wishes to be the President of all Americans, not just the Democrats and not just those who voted for him. Can we swing the pendulum back toward the middle? Can we shake hands and agree to disagree instead of making fists and calling each other names? Do we have to continue blocking the path just so those who oppose us don't get their way? Can we help each other?

The man who wants to lead us ALL said, "[Trump supporters] are not our enemies. They are Americans." I would add that Biden supporters are not the enemy. We too are Americans.

How are we going to find unity if we remain divided?

I'm Biden My Time

I'm sure most of us have heard the saying, "Patience is a virtue." Boy do I find that statement hard to implement. Patience is hard! I could give many examples where needing to have patience nearly drove me crazy, but I don't think any would be as timely as the Mud Puddle of Patience we're all treading water in called the American Election and the Cult of Donald Trump.

I woke this morning with the old Gershwin tune "Bidin' My Time" running through the suburbs of my dreamscape. 

I'm bidin' my time,
Cause that's the kinda guy I'm
While other folks grow dizzy
I keep busy
Bidin' my time 

Firstly, it struck me as funny because of "Bidin'" and Biden. Then is struck me as apropos because of..."Bidin'" and Biden.

I'm one of the "other folks" in this scenario unfortunately. I have grown dizzy with frustration and fear as I've watched, since Tuesday evening, American democracy continue to be undermined by a man who has done nothing but sow seeds of doubt and distrust for longer than his four years in the office of the presidency. He's a snake oil salesman from whom many have purchased his bottles of piss.

My hands were shaking last night at dinner. Not even the lovely glass of French Chardonnay could help. They outwardly mirrored what was happening on the inside--2016 PTSD showing its ass. I was tied up in a knot that seems to only release when I'm asleep. Thankfully, I can sleep. Yesterday I found myself sleeping a lot. It's probably a sign of mild depression brought on by mental and emotional exhaustion due to the state of our country in this time of chaos and crisis. I don't like the idea of being depressed, but I am grateful for the sleep.

Bidin' time is a lazy kind of patience that seems to only exist in a world when the stakes aren't this high, but bide it I must--we must. I wish I could take a pill for patience. I have struggled with finding it for years. I even have the Chinese character for patience tattooed on my left forearm. Beyond reminding me that I needed more patience in my life, I used to joke that I would rub it as a reminder as if to release some magical power imbued within its ink to calm thereby strengthening my ability to deal with stress and anxiety.

That tattoo should be rubbed off by now.

I will admit that Joe Biden was not my first choice for the democratic nominee for President of the United States. Bernie Sanders was not my choice either. But I struggled. After eight years of my country's first Black President, Barack Obama, I feared that we, collectively, would not elect a woman. My fears were proved right when Hillary Clinton, even after winning the popular vote, failed to secure the electorate and become the first female president of the United States of America. 

With all of that in mind I looked at the viable candidates and saw: two old white men, a white woman, a Black woman, and a gay man. Jesus Christ! I couldn't help but wonder who the people of the United States would support and rally behind. I mean, this is a country that elected Donald Trump as its "leader." I didn't trust my own judgment, and I certainly didn't put my trust in the American people. As far as I'm concerned, many of my fellow countrymen let the country down when they cast their vote for Donald Trump.

After the sun had set on Tuesday, November 3, 2020, my best friend and I tuned into CBS News to watch the election results. The excitement and hope for the possibilities began to darken just like the night sky as we began to see the map of our country once again awash with red. There are those guaranteed states that one knows will be red. They always are. But after fours years of bullying, mockery, lying...I couldn't believe the overwhelming support for this candidate. That piss must go down so smooth. I wonder if it's better as a shot, sipped, or mixed with one's favorite juice or soda? 

On Wednesday night, November 4, 2020, peaceful marchers in Massachusetts marched with signs reading, "Count Every Vote," while Trump supporters gathered outside an election center in Detroit, Michigan, chanting, "Stop the count!" and "Stop the vote!" Why doesn't EVERY SINGLE AMERICAN want every vote counted? P.S. the vote had stopped. Unfortunately, Donald Trump used the words "stop the vote" (I heard it with my own ears) and it seems there are those who can't quite understand the difference between "vote" and "count." 

This is chaos. And patience is not easy in the midst of chaos. How patient can one be if he happens to find himself stuck outside in the middle of a hurricane, unable to find cover, unable to move, digging deep to find the strength to wait it out. Patience is a virtue indeed.

Joe Biden has called for unity and for putting the nasty rhetoric of the campaign aside. Donald Trump, on the other hand, has filed lawsuits and continues to push his false claim of fraud. 

THIS. IS. CHAOS! 

My anxiety is through the roof. No amount of deep breathing or long soaks in a bubble bath seem to alleviate it for long.

How did we get here? How did the least Christ-like of presidents wrap the Conservative "Christian" Right around his finger? 

President Barack Obama sang "Amazing Grace" after delivering the eulogy for Rev. Clementa Pickney, in Charleston, South Carolina in 2015. Rev. Pickney was the victim of the bullets let loose upon those attending a Bible study at Mother Emanuel church in what was deemed a racially motivated attack by Dylann Roof. I saw our former president deliver his eulogy and sing the old hymn that comforts so many. It was powerful and emotional. It showed empathy and sympathy. It connected with dormant memories from my youth when I was a follower if the Baptist faith in Kentucky--a dogma that I no longer practice and a faith in which I can no longer believe.

Donald Trump posed on June 1, 2020, for a picture in front of Ashburton House, the parish house of St. John's Church on Lafayette Square in Washington, D.C. after it had been damaged by fire during the previous night's protests over the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The photo of this man holding a Bible left me numb. Even though I no longer read it, do not give it any credence, and do not believe it should have any influence over the laws of our country, I still somehow approach it with reverence. (That's a little fucked up, I realize.) So, to see this man who bullies, mocks, and lies holding up a copy of that book in an effort to appeal to his supporters without doing anything to assuage the racial tension happening steps away continues to leave me cold. 

We are living in the Divided States of America where I believe Donald Trump has conned his way into the hearts of too many. I can't help but be reminded of Matthew 7:15, a verse in that same Bible that I know longer read, which states: "Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves." This is Donald Trump: selfish, fake, destructive. He has used his platform--twitter, MAGA rallies--to empower those who feel he sees them, identifies with them, hears them, supports them. He has opened the door for their deeply held religious beliefs to explode into the room dressed as the hate that it truly is.

To say that discord will remain in the United States of America regardless of the outcome of the election is unnecessary. We know there will be. And with social media providing us with information both true and false, our phone and computer screens will continue to deepen out relationships with like-minded people. To say there will be an uprising in the streets if all of the votes are not counted is almost certain. Don't you feel it? And how Civil might this War be?

(P.S. our taxes count as filed on time as long as they are postmarked by April 15. Why should our votes be any different? If they are postmarked by November 3, during a pandemic when many don't want to vote in person, why shouldn't they count? It seems obvious.)

It is time to remove the cancer. It is time for a leader that isn't going to fire you if you disagree with him. It is time to heal. It is time to sing "Amazing Grace" and mean it. It is time for empathy in the face of so much social and civil unrest. It is time to trust Climate Science and medical professionals. Isn't it time for America to be better than it is instead of treading on the false pretense of Making it Great Again? When is Again? What about now!   

I don't know what's going to happen with the 2020 election results, but I'm holding out hope. Patience is hard, but I'm Biden my time. As Jimmy Kimmel tweeted on election night: "This is like being awake during your own surgery." Ouch. But true. This is painful, but I'm optimistic that healing will begin once the tumor is removed.

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.  

Freedom, Bravery, and Boycotting in America

San Fransisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the national anthem. We all know this. What seems to be missing for many is the why. He kneeled, instead of standing, in response to police brutality in America. Specifically against people of color. It was a form of non-violent protest that continues to divide and incite outrage.

"I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder."

These are the words of Colin Kaepernick. This is the why.

Now I have my own why: Why is anyone offended?

This was never about disrespecting the national anthem. (It's merely a song for Christ's sake.) It was never about disrespecting the country. It was never about disrespecting the military. It was always about protesting the abuse of fellow Americans during a song that is supposed to represent America and elicit pride in the hearts of those of us living in the "land of the free and the home of the brave!"

So again I ask: Why is anyone offended?

The unfortunate election of Donald Trump to our nation's highest office, and his childish, petty, bullying rhetoric (the campaign, tweets, rallies), has clouded the judgement of so many in this country. He has shined a light on the hate, that up until his campaign started, had remained at the edge of the shadows. Yes, I know that bigotry and hate surfaced on a daily basis in this country. But nothing like what we are now seeing. Donald Trump does nothing but incite his base with a white power entitlement that has, I believe, legitimized their racism, bigotry, and hate. At least in their own minds.

I saw an image on Twitter last night of country singer John Rich's sound man holding the Nike swoosh symbol from the top of a pair of socks. This sound man had cut them off. This is because Nike has made Colin Kaepernick the face of their 30th anniversary "Just Do It" campaign. This sound man is not the only person offended and angry at Nike. I've seen videos of people burning their Nike sneakers and cutting the swoosh off of their shorts. It's amazing. The #NikeBoycott is happening.

I'm taken right back to 2003, when Dixie Chicks lead vocalist, Natalie Maines told a British audience: "We don't want this war, this violence, and we're ashamed that the President of the United States (George W. Bush) is from Texas" 

The backlash was astonishing. Radio stations stopped playing their music. Images of people burning Dixie Chicks merchandise and rolling over Dixie Chicks CDs with a tractor emerged. 

And here we are again. 

Was the war in Iraq necessary? There were no weapons of mass destruction. Was the Dixies Chicks' statement really that far off the mark?

Do we really need to be shooting (often killing) men of color who are unarmed, with police officers found not guilty for the shooting? Is Colin Kaepernick's kneeling really that offensive? Or are people angry that their own prejudice is being served to them on one knee?

A friend of mine talks often about the swinging pendulum between Conservative and Liberal. How it swings one way and then back the other. He often talks about finding a middle ground. We don't seem to be able to find that middle ground these days. Partly because we don't talk to each other. We talk AT each other. We argue with and call each other names. Thanks to social media this unfortunately is very easy. I myself am guilty of it. 

We live in America...the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

We are free to kneel. We are free to stand. We are free to boycott. We are free to have our opinions. We are free to worship. We are free to NOT worship. We are free to love who with love and have sex with that person. We are free to vote for change.

But are we brave? There are many brave Americans doing brave things every day. In respect to this piece, I believe Colin Kaepernick to be a very brave individual. He stood up, or this case, kneeled, for what he believed in. He shined a light on injustice. Those that would try and diminish that light by destroying their Nike merchandise will never stop the movement he started.

The Dixie Chicks may not be recording currently but let's not forget that they recorded another album (Taking the Long Way) after that backlash that debuted at #1, sold 2.5 million copies in the U.S. alone, and won five Grammy Awards including Album, Record, and Song of the Year.

I think Nike will be okay. So boycott away. The kneeling will continue. Trump is "only for now." (Thank you Avenue Q.) Progress is not a bad thing. Racism and bigotry will never go away. And the divide between Conservative and Liberal may widen even more before that middle ground is met. 

Americans are, however, still Free to be as Brave as we want to be.  

A Repeal Toward Silence

There was a time when I didn't consider myself a political activist. I was content to let others do the work, to let others fight the fight. During President Barack Obama's administration that changed. The game changer for me was the prospect of marriage equality.

I've never been one to want to get married. (Well, not since I was a teenager and thought I might marry a woman at age 17, but I digress). Maybe that's because I haven't had a significant other in my life that I love so much that that down-on-one-knee scenario would be the next logical step and a resounding, tearful yes the only answer. If you know me you know I would cry. I'm a soft-hearted Sally.

Regardless of my personal relationship status, I have friends who wanted/want to get married. Why shouldn't they get married? Just because some words in an ancient text says it's not the way? Please! Evolve already. Many words in that ancient text no longer hold any meaning. And yet, same sex couples continue to be judged against the ideals of some man from a time long ago (and translated through the centuries by yet more men) that continue to keep the hearts of believers so hardened that they can't open them. And the heels of all of their shoes must me in ruin for all the digging in.

That was 2015 and this is 2017.

It's an era of frustration, anger, anxiety. There is hate on both sides. And name-calling. There is no compromise. Social media doesn't help. It doesn't really bring us closer together. And it's certainly not social. No, social media allows us to yell and scream at each other, emboldened with the courage that only the safety of a keyboard can provide. 

It's an era when "fake news" is screamed in front of the camera anytime the person screaming doesn't agree or accept what's being reported. There are bans, witch hunts, repeals, stalls, rush jobs, refusals, threats. There is finger-pointing, bullying, harassment. There is no end in sight. The "leader" of the free world is guilty of leading the charge for all of the above mentioned verbs. Oh look, he is a leader.

It's an era of marches and pussy hats and the raising of voices.

This brings me to the vote on Thursday, December 14, 2017, to repeal the Obama era rules to keep the internet free for the American people--net neutrality.

This was one more slap in the face to those of us who raised our voices in protest--We The People. The ears that needed to hear the voices refused to hear. And why is that? From my view, standing outside looking in, it appears that the undoing of legislation put into place during the Obama era is at the top of the To Do list for the current administration. The man that lost the popular vote but won the electorate, hates his predecessor so much that it appears all he really wants to do is undo everything the man did, effectively taking us backwards. 

As a supporter of Barack Obama I will admit that it's hard for me to understand the point of view of people who hated/hate him as much as I hate his replacement. But that's not what this is about. 

Yesterday's vote to repeal net neutrality has me concerned for our Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press. Regardless of who you support, you should be concerned about the repeal. 

While initially appointed to the FCC by Barack Obama, it was Donald Trump who appointed Ajit Pai, chairman. And it was Mr. Pai who cast the deciding vote to begin dismantling the net neutrality rules that keep the internet free and open. He has now opened the door for internet service providers (ISP's) to slow down content (better finish the second season of The Crown on Netlix before it starts stopping to buffer) or even block content with which they don't agree.

This is where it gets personal for me. I am a writer. I have spoken out many times against the actions of Donald Trump, the administrator of the Corporate Greed Administration. You have to open your eyes. Don't you think that the man who made "fake news" one of the go to phrases of the year has just laid the foundation for a different kind of wall? The one that blocks the legitimate news outlets that report the truth that he doesn't like? It's a What If scenario but can't you see the "what if" getting clearer all around you? Maybe you think, This is America. That won't happen here. Do you really want to find out?

If ISP's have the ability to block competitive content what makes any of us think that news websites that keep us informed and point out the truth aren't going to be added to the "blocked" list?

We have to fight. We can't be silent. We have to raise our voices. We have to make ourselves be heard. If we don't, the truth could be repealed and that silence will be deafening.

Struggling To Transcend The Darkness

Yesterday was a dark day for me. Nothing in particular happened to cause the darkness. Unless, of course, you count the state of the country.

I woke up. I made coffee. I drank the coffee. I read Vogue. I was in a pretty good mood. I even decided to be bold with my eye make up: dark purpled-gray on the lids and a smudgy stroke underneath.

Without even knowing why, I just felt dark. I wore mostly black. And with the salt of white in my beard and the dark eyes, I had a vision of what it would all look like and it came together in reality with as much perfection.

The darkness of the outward soon seeped inward.

I asked a question and participated in a discussion about politics: Mr. Trump's Executive Orders, Senate confirmation hearings, Democrats stalling just to be vindictive or because they had legitimate concerns.

During the discussion I listened but couldn't help but feel like the kid sitting in Geometry class, not understanding, finally raising his hand to ask a question, and hearing the snickers of the students around him making him feel even more stupid because now they know he doesn't understand.

I know that these are my own self-imposed feelings of ignorance. I also know that my dread of each new move by the Trump Administration on the chess board that is our country's political game is real. I know that I shouldn't live in fear. But knowing and doing are two different things. I'm trying to understand. I'm trying to have faith. Both are equally difficult for me to do.

I couldn't shake the feelings of dimness that took hold of me yesterday. I tried to engage in other conversations. I felt the people around me working overtime to lift the mood in the room. I couldn't do it for myself, and they couldn't do it for me. I had spiraled down the rabbit hole where even Alice kept her distance. Too much darkness. I was alone. I finally realized the best course of action for me, and everyone around me, was to remove myself from the situation.

Later in the evening I took to Twitter. Searching what was trending led to a Trump related hashtag. I knew I shouldn't click on it but click on it I did. Three tweets in I saw the word "libtard." That's the word that I've noticed more and more from the Right since the election results knocked the air out the Left. It's a hateful word; demeaning.

I wasn't sure it was possible, but the darkness got even darker. I forced myself to close my Twitter app and then forced myself to delete the app from my iPhone.

We're living in a divided time right now. I am honestly trying to understand how the other side feels. I saw the progress that happened during the Obama Administration. However, I'm trying to understand how what I considered progress was not considered progress by Obama haters. It's so difficult to see another's point of view when that point of view at no point has even a hint of aligning with yours.

I can't understand why my being protected, as a gay man, causes so many such discomfort. I don't remember what I felt more of when the Supreme Court ruled on Equality in 2015. Was it relief? (I certainly was relieved. And shocked. I wept.) Or was superiority that people in a country so superiorly Christian would finally have to accept the Separation of Church and State? (I felt that too.) Of course, that ruling inevitably led to Religious Freedom bills being submitted over many parts of the country.

Fear and hate continue to be carefully taught. And they're thriving. They're thriving equally among the Right and the Left: two sides within the same country so divided that we can't even be civil with one another.

I continue to fight my fear and to try not to hate people who might hate me for the way I was born.

I know that I'm supported by some but don't feel that I'm supported by those from whom I'm longing to be held.

As I made my exit yesterday with Charlie Brown's rain cloud firmly secured above my head I said, "The next time I see you I'll try to be more pink."

Today I am trying to combat the darkness with pink. It's light-hearted. It's revitalizing. It lifts my spirits.

I can't watch the news. I can't read my Twitter feed. I don't even want to look at the headlines on Huffington Post. If I do any of those things the brightness will begin to drain from the pink. And if that happens all I'll be left with is the dingy brown of a watery puddle. And that's just one step away from the darkness, over which I'm struggling to transcend.

Fear, Shame, & Discrimination: It's Enough Already

Have you ever had fear of family rejection from doing nothing other than being born? I have. Maybe you've experienced the fear of your family’s reaction when you got your girlfriend pregnant, or wrecked your car, or got a DUI, or failed a class. But that’s different than fearing your family for the way you felt inside because of who you were attracted to. 

Have you ever felt completely isolated from everyone (your parents, your preacher, you teachers, your guidance counselor, your friends), unable to ask questions or talk about how you were feeling, because you feared their reaction? Well, guess what. I have. It was sad and terrifying and lonely. And I felt ashamed of myself for most of my life. That fear was caustic; it tried to destroy me.

I’m done with that! I’m done with it. I’m not going to apologize for being attracted to men, for enjoying kissing a man, for wanting to hold a man’s hand. I’m not going to apologize for enjoying makeup and a fantastic shoe. I won’t do it. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone condemn me as less than worthy of rights and protections because of how I feel, who I love, what I wear. I WON’T DO IT!

Too much time was wasted living with shame and fear. Too much time is still being wasted with the residual effects of those feelings. I am not a victim. I am a survivor: of my childhood, of high school, of religious men and women who would have me believe that Hell awaits me if I continue down my path. I could easily play the victim card, but that is unproductive. I am not a victim, but I am angry. I have risen up and I will continue to rise further.

Even the hint of a whiff, via Twitter today, that Mr. Trump might sign an executive order allowing for discrimination against LGBTQ humans has incensed me. It’s enough already. I stand proudly, a capital G, with my LGBTQ brothers and sisters. It is time to stop this nonsense. LGBTQ humans needing protections wouldn’t even be necessary if so many homophobic people, hiding behind religion, afraid of what they won’t or can’t understand would just get over themselves and realize that equality isn’t going to change their lives. It’s going to change the life of someone else. And by doing so will make life better for all. 

We could indeed make America great(er) if we all took a second to support, love, and help each other. We truly are stronger together. I just hope we haven’t destroyed each other by the time we figure that out.

Treading Water in a Sea of Anxiety

photo via Keeper's Blog

“We should be celebrating everyone as much as we can. There’s so much darkness that it’s hard to keep your head above water sometimes.” Christian Siriano

I struggle daily with anxiety from the impending Trump presidency. Impending is a word, for me, that is often followed by the word doom. Impending: imminently threatening or menacing. Doom: adverse fate; ruin; death. Impending Doom. Yep. Sounds about right. 

As a gay man who saw his courage grow by leaps and bounds in 2016 alone, the imminent changing of the guard from the Obama administration to the Trump administration is justifiably unnerving. Therefore: fear of impending doom. I’m treading water in a sea of anxiety. I know I’m not alone.

My anxiety derives from the recent past: Mr. Trump’s words, actions, and reactions on the campaign trail. It is nourished daily as I try to digest the information released of those he’s chosen to surround himself with in the White House — a barrage of anti-gay humans, many of whom seem to lack the qualifications necessary to do the job they’ve been appointed to do. It maintains its grip on me every time he takes to Twitter to tweet…about anything. 

I wish I could keep wearing my rose-colored glasses and pretend everything is ok. But I can't ignore what is happening in the world. I need to be informed, but I’m finding it more and more difficult every day to open my reputable news apps. I fear the headlines. I think to myself: What now? What’s next? I have to read the story because otherwise I won’t know what’s going on. Then, more often than not, my heart sinks into a despair that turns to frustration, then anger. The glasses are cracked. I've had to take them off. The resulting imagery is harsh. As the truth often is. 

Have you noticed the photos that often accompany any article about Mr. Trump? They’re photos that often show him with an expression so self-righteous and smug it makes me think he couldn’t really care less about the people of the country he was just elected to represent. I know these photos are chosen on purpose — a manipulation — to show Mr. Trump at his worst. But I watched him on the campaign trail. I watched portions of the debates. And I’ve read his words. Self-righteous, smug, egotistical, self-important, oppressive, and dishonest are just some of the words I’d use to describe how he comes across. He doesn’t seem approachable and doesn’t seem as if he would take to heart any of the concerns of the people, even if he did take a moment to listen to those concerns. The image he has cultivated is not that of a nice person, and I think he likes it that way. 

I, like many others, never thought Mr. Trump had a chance of winning the election. But he did win. I don’t know how and I don’t know why. As TIME states on the cover of their “Person of the Year” issue, he is “President of the Divided States of America.” Remember the motto, “United we stand, divided we fall?” We are divided as a country. So divided. I can’t even imagine what the next four years will bring, and I don’t even want to think about the possibility of eight. I can’t think about it. I fear we’re on the precipice of a fall: momentous, hazardous, deadly. Every minority group in the "United" States of America has the potential to feel a terminating grip on its rights and freedoms during the Trump administration. All the courage must be gathered. All the voices must be raised. We'll all be stronger together.

So many bemoaned the suckocity of the year that was 2016. I concur (even if I did find a great deal more personal courage). There was terrorism at home and on foreign soil. There was shooting after shooting after shooting. There was hacking (Russia anyone?), and too much attention paid to emails that proved nothing. There was contaminated water and a pipeline. There was fake news shared and tweeted as real. Then there was the Presidential campaign and its subsequent election results. All led to anxiety inducing headlines with subsequent stories that did not alleviate the tension. Now 2016 has ended and the new and shiny year 2017 has begun. But I fear we have passed from the bleak into the ominous. The cold, gray, gloomy days of January are apropos. 

The new year hasn’t had a chance to get tarnished or genuinely fucked up yet. However, this new is not a renewal. It’s a continuation. It’s a year that will bring change to be sure. What that change will be no one knows. I’m guessing not even Mr. Trump. 

We’re hovering over an abyss of the unknown. The darkness is foreboding. I keep trying to shine my light but it’s arduous.

Is it any wonder my anxiety continues to flourish?

Shoes & Safety-Pins: Unexpected Symbols of Freedom

Sometimes a shoe is more than a shoe. 

Sometimes it's a piece of art that you wear for its beauty. But sometimes it’s a symbol you wear in defiance of all the prejudice, fear, and hate that is around you.

Sometimes a man needs to face himself in the mirror and apply a swipe of mascara, maybe a bit of eye shadow or eye liner, or both, then put on his heels and confidently (Oh how I've had to muster every ounce of courage to appear confident in the days since) walk out of the apartment.

In a country that has proven itself to be at least half (considering the voters in the recent election) full of racists, sexists, and phobes of some sort, it takes a lot for someone like me (a person who deviates from society’s idea of normal) to hold his head up and Just Be.

I am not alone in my fears. I am not alone in my devastation. I am not alone in my courage.  And I am thankfully no longer feeling alone in my sadness. I have friends who can help me be strong and who I hope I help be strong. Now more than ever I feel like we have to be there for each other. We have to support each other. We have to find support if we don’t have it. We have to help others who are hurting—friends and strangers alike. 

Yesterday, as I began to see images of vandalism; to read tweets and status updates of racism and homophobia—at a reprehensible low—I took a moment to breathe down the nausea. Then I took a moment to feel grateful that I live in progressive and generally accepting New York City and had not directly experienced that hate. Then I got angry.

Our President-elect incited this madding crowd during his entire campaign. He unearthed them; brought them into the light. His inability to hold his tongue and be diplomatic (EVER!) has given many of his supporters a sense of empowerment to now say and do whatever they want to anyone.

I want to do more than use my words. I’m stirred to act up; fight back. I want to get my hands dirty and help. I’ve donated to The Trevor Project and Planned Parenthood. That is not enough but it’s a start.

Our President-elect doesn’t have the backs of most of the people that he is set to starting leading in January 2017. It doesn’t seem as if he will surround himself with advisors that will have our backs either.

There are many of us that are angry. Many of us that are scared. Many of us that are grieving. Many of us trying to find a safe place to land.

There’s a new symbol that is being warn to show solidarity. It’s a simple safety pin. You’ve probably got several in the bottom of a drawer where you live. It’s in the name already—safety. It’s a symbol of support: an identifier marking an ally; a safe place for all of us humans who are targets of the Make America Great Again constituency to feel supported, respected, equal.

So as I enter the Third Morning After I’m reminded of a few lyrics from that good ol’ show tune, “A Little More Mascara” from La Cage Aux Folles: “When life is a real bitch again and my old sense of humor has up and gone…I put a little more mascara on.” To this I will add a fabulous pair of shoes and a safety pin.

I will be myself and be a safe place. I will support you and ask for your support in return. I ask that you help me stay strong and courageous and I in turn will help you.

Sometimes a shoe is more than a shoe. And sometimes a safety pin is more than a pin.

Even in Trump’s America, I Will Shine My Light

As I sit in my apartment, trying to drink a cup a coffee on the morning after, I can’t help but feel completely alone. I’m trying to assuage the dread and fear that is knotting my stomach. I’m trying to decide whether crying or not crying is best. I’m angry. I’m devastated. I’m scared. 

I have connected with friends this morning who share in my grief at what happened yesterday in America. I have reached out to a few family members without knowing what the response will be or even if I’ll get one. I have read through many tweets and articles that have already been tweeted and published this morning regarding the outcome of yesterday’s actions. Texts and tweets are a from of connection but in reality, I’m alone in my sadness.

I never knew how much racism, sexism, misogyny, and homophobia existed in my country: the land of the free; the home of the brave. (I’m no fool. I knew it existed just not to this extent.) With the hate-filled words that spewed from his mouth during his entire campaign, Mr. Trump shined the brightest light in the sky, illuminating his existence for all who might feel the same way as he and want to follow him down his dark path of making America great again. (America is already pretty great. Where do we go now?) 

Parallels between Harry Potter’s big bad, Voldemort, and Mr. Trump have already been made Mr. Trump's his Dark Mark shining in the sky brought forth a glut of supporters. His divisive words allowed those who longed for the “good ol’ days” to stand tall, proud, fearlessly in that light and affirm their beliefs because he was saying out loud how they felt. 

As a gay man I have seen so much positive change in our country during President Obama’s two terms. Change that I fear our new president wants to wipe away as quickly as he can. I don’t want to go down the road of #NotMyPresident. But I don’t know how to respect a man who does not respect me and will not have my back.

I’m afraid for my LGBTQ friends (adults and youth alike), my muslim friends, my black friends, my latino friends. Our new conservative leader does not seem to have the best interest of any of us at heart. His own words have proven that during his campaign. On the whiter side, he does have the backing of the KKK. Wait. Stop. Think about that for a second. I saw a tweet this morning by Mikey Walsh that said: 

"Our First Black President will have to greet, and give up the White House & the presidency to a Man endorsed by the KKK. 2016."

Is this America? 

So, what am I to do? What are any of us whom our leaders view as second-class citizens supposed to do? Noah Michelson wrote a fantastic piece at 3am this morning called Dear Queer America: Here Is What We Must Do Now That Trump Will Be President. He tells me to never stop fighting. He tells me to continue to live my life and be me. He tells me to come out again and again. He tells me to be vigilant, to be brave, and to speak. 

The first thing I did was cry. (That answers the question posed in the first paragraph.) Then I tweeted Noah my appreciation and came out again to him. I plan to continue to live my life and show up and be seen. I will continue to love men. I will continue to paint my fingernails and wear high heels with my boy clothes. I will continue to wear eye make up whenever I want to. I will continue to write and explore and be me. I will continue to push back against those who wish I would just go back inside the closet.

I’m terrified of what this upcoming regime change may bring upon this country I call home. But as terrified as I am I don’t want to cower in fear of the Dark Mark hovering above us. The homophobic, racist, sexist, misogynistic citizenry cannot be allowed to make us feel less than. I am an American: a man, a homosexual, an equal.

The sky is gray in New York City today. At first I thought is was the perfect metaphor for the ominous future that is hanging over our country. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe those dark clouds need an even brighter light to illuminate the sky and dissipate the darkness. Maybe a disco playlist will lighten the mood.

I’m still here. I’m still queer. I’m still me. And you’re still you. We have to pull together and not allow this victory to defeat us. We’re Americans, damn it. We’re made of stronger stuff. And to quote the Tony Award winning Best Musical Avenue Q, “Donald Trump is only for now.”

We’ll get through this. We have to. It’s either survive or die and death is not an option. Stay strong. Show up. Be seen. Be yourself. Shine your light.