One of the truest things I’ve ever learned is that the most dynamic stories come from those who try to justify what they’ve done. The stories they tell themselves, the reasoning they board up in their minds, bulletproof to any criticism.
Last night, a former coworker posted an article explaining why “being a Republican doesn’t mean she’s inhuman.” (The need to post an article like that speaks volumes alone.) When she confirmed that she voted for Trump, despite his “less than ideal” platform, others challenged her decision and asked for her perspective. Her response was deflection.
She ended the conversation by simply saying, “Can we just agree on peace and blessings?”
I truly believe that she thinks she is a peaceful person. I mean, after all, Namaste, right? That’s what women have on their shirts when they want to let others know they are all about good vibes and “peace and blessings” right? Or a woman that belongs to a Christian church has all her moral ducks in a row, so she must be voting for Trump for purely fiscal reasons, right?
Supporting Trump for fiscal reasons, while minimizing his social commentary, is making a deal with the devil.
Sure, he promises wealth and prosperity and says he will implement some of your Christian family values that you hold so dear, but at what cost? Any legislation he signs that aligns with what you believe will be signed with the blood trickling from the ears of women who have been sexually assaulted, Muslims, Mexicans, LGBTQ individuals. You will have your bill, but is it worth those groups being marginalized?
There is a type of violence that some people participate in, that has nothing to do with throwing punches or pulling a trigger. There is a type of violence that’s quiet and clean. It’s a type of violence that does not directly intrude on your wine flights, or yoga, or sunsets, or world famous restaurants. It’s a type of violence that does not leave stains on your white coat. It’s a type of violence that transcends the words “Can we just agree on peace and blessings?” It’s a type of violence that lets you put your head on your pillow every night and sleep peacefully. It’s a type of violence that lets you walk all over marginalized groups, as you accidentally mistake their heads for stepping-stones to get you where you want to go. It’s a type of violence that you can justify. It’s the type of violence that comes in the shape of a paper ballot.
It’s the type of violence that scares me just as much as the loud, blatant racists, because the stories they tell themselves, the reasoning they board up in their minds, seem peaceful. It seems logical to them. It seems like a slight compromise, but it’s so much more than that.