I never thought I’d get to the place where everybody that used to love me no longer does. Where my political views — which I’ve had my whole entire life — suddenly make me unpopular or a social outcast. Or a point in time where I would have to look at people that I’ve known all my life and say, “This isn’t about politics, this is personal. If you really believe the stuff that you’re subscribing to, then I’m no longer sure that you’re a good person. And I can’t make nice over that.”
See, I’m one of those people Donald Trump was making fun of. And if his actions were in the form of a kid in the school yard, instead of those of a presidential front-runner, I would kick their ass. And now some of the very same people I’ve known my whole life — people I consider friends, those who even claim to love me — want to elect a man like that President of the United States of America and then cheerlead their love for him in my face. I can’t be polite, or quiet, over that.
This isn’t about me being a lifelong loudmouth liberal, although I am. This isn’t about the fact that I come from generations of Democrats, although I do. This isn’t in regard to the fact that I am a political junkie who was campaigning for Michael Dukakis on the playground, although I was. And my outrage isn’t a derivative of my love for President Obama, or from the fact that I think that Donald Trump is a blissfully ignorant ass clown who has no business in the Oval Office, although both of those are true.
This is about the fact that I waddle when I walk. This is about the blatantly obvious truth that I, myself, am different. I had six fingers on each hand at birth and six toes on one foot. I am a genetic mutation that typically kills 60% of babies born like me — via a heart defect. While by the grace of God or the help of genetics I escaped that potentially fatal deformation, I doubled down on every other one. I’m a textbook case of someone who was born with malformations in almost every bone and I can’t hide it nor have I ever tried to.
I’m also a writer — an outspoken one. One who is confrontational, no nonsense, and well read. One who has spent a lifetime acquiring knowledge and learning her limitations, and because of that, one who doesn’t mind saying those things. Or one who doesn’t mind pointing out that she’s almost positive that she possessed more political knowledge in the fourth grade that Donald Trump has put forward throughout his entire presidential campaign.
So see, I could have been that writer for the New York Times. I could have called attention to Donald Trump’s inaccuracies, bold face lies and pathological inability to tell the truth. And in return, Donald Trump could have taken the stage during a presidential campaign and made fun of my bones; my joints; the way I walk. And these folks that I’ve known my whole life –who claim to love me — would be outraged if I shared on social media that I encountered someone that was mocking my stance. Or making fun of the way I walk. And yet these same people make excuses for Donald Trump.
I do not apologize for who I am. And I’m not only not ashamed of it, but I thank God every day for making me this way and for not only helping me accept it, but for giving me the strength to be proud of it. My experience is that those who come wrapped a little different, sometimes have the most profound message inside of that “abnormal” package.
Being unique gives depth to my message in almost every area in a way that being “normal” could never mirror. It has strengthened my appeal. It has earned me, many times, the right to speak up in ways that other people could not. It’s given my voice — and my interpretations — credibility. People are seemingly more willing to listen to vocal challenges that come wrapped inside of a package they deem a little bit damaged, because they think they might have something worthwhile to say; something worthwhile inside. So-called normal people are sometimes pushed to contemplate the way in which those of us who are not “perfect” navigate the world, and because of that, they hear what you say differently. Or a little stronger. Or at least that’s been my experience.
There’s something that happens to you when you come into this world different, you realize that you can either cower in the corner in kindergarten, or you can stand tall — as tall as you possibly can at 4 feet 10 — and stand strong and not care what the world thinks of you and relish in your own existence; learn to thrive in your own self-assured environment. And I’ve come to see time and time again that people respond to that. I’ve also come to see that Donald Trump has never had that kind of self-confidence a day in his privileged life. In fact, he took great pains to fight back over the hands “controversy,” telling the Washington Post that he didn’t want — God forbid — people to fear that he had some kind of deformity. Well, I do have some kind of deformity in my hands, Donald Trump, and they still work well enough to turn up my middle finger or use the rest of them to pound out the words on my keypad to tell you this truth: You only wish your money could buy you the kind of self-assuredness that people with disabilities live with every day.
I am not disabled. But I am different. And anyone who would mock somebody solely on the basis of the way they look or the way they walk or the way they move or the way they can’t move and then stand up and say, “I’ve never seen the guy” — when we’ve all seen the video of Mr. Trump saying “you’ve got to see this guy” right before he formed his hand into a claw, which is the universal sign among common assholes for mocking someone with a physical or intellectual disability — is a juvenile prick who has no business being given a microphone or a platform, let alone the nuclear launch codes.
This isn’t about ridiculous unfounded and inaccurate statements that Donald Trump has made or the “policies” that he’s put forward that have no basis in reality. Nor is it about the fact that the majority of Donald Trump’s followers seem to be attracted to his bigotry and his misogynistic ramblings and as such are willing to overlook the fact that he has no actual knowledge — because I could talk for days on all of those things. It’s about the fact that if the leader of the United States of America doesn’t have integrity in dealing with its citizens, then who the hell does? So often we as Americans want to play-pretend as moral authority on the rest of the world, but yet the same party, the same evangelicals, that want to tell the rest of the world how to live their life seem to think that this man exemplifies God’s love; God’s grace; God’s word. It’s ludicrous. The same people that have spent eight years talking about the man in the Oval Office having “no class” — and, really, this is what you pick?
I can’t overlook that. I can’t make exceptions for that. I can’t pretend that it’s just a difference of political opinions, when what you’re choosing has no basis in political principles at all — because your candidate has no sound concept of them, just racially-charged assaults and ” applause lines” that he gets on stage and spews out of his ass.
This isn’t about the fact that I believe in providing easy access to affordable health care for every citizen in what remained the only developed nation on Earth not to do so. This isn’t about the fact that I believe that doctors and women have the right to decide the best reproductive choices for a woman. Or that I believe that you can’t claim to be pro-life and think the honest answer to gun violence and gun deaths are just more guns and more high-powered weapons of war everywhere; can’t claim to care about saving babies and take repeated attempts at fertility treatment while ignoring the abundance of unwanted children currently living here (as in, on Earth); can’t profess to care about every life God has created, and take legislative action to block helping Syrian refugees (who have spent 24 months in screening in a United Nations recommended refugee camp before coming to the United States) where the majority
are women and children, the remainder elderly or handicapped men. This isn’t about my belief that when a Democratic president holds the White House, the country and the economy benefits. And this isn’t about my commitment to the Constitution that states that the government of the United States of America doesn’t promote or favor any religion. Or about my belief that that is part of what makes America America — the greatest nation on Earth.
This is about the truth that if your children went to school and acted like Donald Trump, they would be suspended or expelled. Don’t believe me, try telling your child to tell the teacher next time he doesn’t get a “fair” grade that she’d better ace him or else he’ll “spill the beans” on her spouse. Try telling your child to respond to imagined or perceived criticisms by another student with loud, repetitive taunts of, “Wacko! Fat pig! Loser!” Try having him tell a girl that outwits him that “she’s only a 2 anyway” or telling a teacher that it would be a pretty picture to see her on her knees. Or perhaps when he perceives that a teacher is treating him “unfairly” he can start talking about how much more money his parents have and ridicule her shamelessly in front of the whole class over her lowly teacher salary — because in his mind, that’s all it takes to make him better. And when he gets sent to the principal’s office for these Donald Trump like behaviors, have him tell the principal that the real problem here is that they’re just all incompetent; that we have incompetent, stupid leaders running our school systems.
Let me know how that works out for little Trump-in-training.
Because, let’s be real, that’s what you’re teaching your children when you put stickers on your car for Trump, stick Trump signs in your yard, or use your social media accounts to campaign for Donald Trump because you believe he “tells it like it is.”
Donald Trump manages to be the single biggest sissy that I have ever seen in my entire life. A man who doesn’t even have the guts to own a single insult –– except those to Mexicans and Muslims because that’s what his entire campaign is based on — who goes around back peddling out of insults by saying some variation of the spineless, mind manipulation typical of emotional abusers, like, “I didn’t say Megyn Kelly was being a b-word because she’s on her… you know, I said Megyn Kelly is a b- word because she’s bleeding from her wherever!”
Gimme a break. People who “tell it like it is” are people who say things like, “Heck yeah, I said it and no, I’m not sorry about it, either!” (Which is, as a friend pointed out, one of my most used favorites.) And people who are tough are people who write letters like this — even when it makes them unpopular. Even when it leaves them getting social media bullied (like that scares me) by supposedly grown adults. Even when it turns them into the only thrice-elected (when DCHS held three grades) class officer who would have to rent pall bearers if she died and they buried her in the same small town, simply because they don’t believe that they do the world any favors by hand holding racist white people or by whispering in their ear that their ignorance and their violence and their hatred is ok because they’re white (read: superior). “Tough” talkers don’t believe that men like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr gave their lives so that white people can continue to lie to each other, or so those of us that actually try to practice some of God’s love can’t stand up and tell you that your real problem is that your unquestioned dominance that was once based solely on your skin color is coming to an end and it makes you insane with anger.
That’s telling it like it is — and I can assure you, there’s always a price for it. And it isn’t leading a load of angry, blue-collar white people as a presidential front-runner; otherwise, I’d be at the top of the Republican ticket.
Whatever your particular problem is, I promise you, Donald Trump isn’t the least bit interested in solving it. Donald Trump is interested in two things, and two things only — making you afraid of it and telling you who’s to blame for it. (To borrow from a Michael Douglas movie.)
Donald Trump is ego. Donald Trump is money purchasing power. Donald Trump is narcissism. And Donald Trump is shame.
And Donald Trump’s “silent majority” is not only a contradiction, it’s pure political comedic gold! A “silent majority” is largely perceived as a group of people who don’t publicly express their political opinions, so yet publicly expressing your political opinions while calling yourself a group of “silent” people who do not publicly express their political beliefs, is almost as beautiful of a crazed representation of the hypocrisy and contradictions of Donald Trump as his campaign is itself. It’s also a laughable paradox because Donald Trump supporters are not only not silent, they’re not even the political majority. Trump is currently looking to carry about 10% of the vote of the general electorate (of registered voters) in the United States. At best. Not much “majority” in that.
However when I see those campaigning for Donald Trump, I don’t instinctively see the contradictions, the fabrications, or the inaccuracies in your sign or your arguments — because Fox News has been teaching you (the right wing) how to ignore those for a decade-and-a-half, so those are always present!
No, instead I see people who are passing on hate and ignorance and common, common behavior unworthy of any citizen — documented or not — in the United States of America, and it makes me sad. I see Donald Trump signs and I think, sadly, what are you teaching your children?
Because that Donald Trump-type behavior that you’re passing on to your children — whatever it is — I see it and think, amusingly, that you’d better pray to that oranged face, famous-for-being-famous political savior of yours that your children don’t come in contact with any of those that have been raised around me. Because if they have and they (mine) see your child mocking anybody for being different, for being special, for being overweight, for being handicapped and they don’t show them that same type of behavior that Donald Trump calls for on stage at his rallies — they’re going to get it from me.
See unike Donald Trump, I don’t just talk tough, I am tough. I’ve had to be. Just like most of us who came into this world in a body that a man like Mr. Trump would make fun of. And tough means standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves — even when we’re the smallest one in the room.
My Aunt Polly always told me that the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And that demagoguery-spewing twat with a face that resembles a human cross between a tangelo and a banana peel has a heck of a fall coming his mighty way.
And you can remember exactly who it was that “told you like it was” when that day comes. And I’m going to clap my little deformed hands the entire time his big self-proclaimed “tough” butt is on his way down.
I believe here in the United States we refer to it as election day.