Solidarity in the Face of the Unthinkable

‚ÄčI can say with some degree of confidence that Hillary Rodham Clinton will carry DC on Tuesday. I wish I could say with the same degree of confidence that the same will happen on the national level. But I can’t. Instead I feel helpless and paralyzed with anxiety, terrified that my worst fears about America’s destructive potential – all-out fascism if I have to give it a name – might come to pass. Come to pass in spite of all my education, my studies, my desperate – and ultimately futile? – attempts to understand political systems and human behavior . . . as though that knowledge could somehow inoculate me from the inevitable. The inevitable fear not that the United States will become fascist but that the United States will revert to fascism. This is how it feels to be a minority in a country that has exercised unimaginable brutality against not one but two populations – one native, the other not – in the name of enriching a few families. This is how it feels to be a minority knowing that the circumstances of my life – like the lives of millions of other people of color – depends less on my own personal efforts and most on the mood of the majority. In this time of anxiety I am comforted by the fact that millions of White people – members of the numerical, political, and economic majority – are up in arms and out in force campaigning, advocating, canvassing to get out the vote and keep Donald Trump, the fascist candidate, out of the now-more-than-every-tragically-named White House. I have read about White women braving the anger and hatred of conservative male relatives, publicly denouncing and severing ties in full view of social media. People I know personally are driving up to Pennsylvania, a battleground state, for get-out-the-vote drives, and others are phone or text banking from their homes. Such solidarity might be the greatest and most lasting contribution of Donald Trump’s fascist campaign to American politicsys. His campaign has brought people of goodwill together in recognition that what Trump says about Mexicans, Muslims, women – to say nothing of his nomination of a rabidly anti-LGBT running mate – bodes ill for America. Bad not just for the groups he has vilified but for all Americans. My hope is that this close encounter with fascism – regardless of Tuesday’s results – will jolt us out of our politics-of-identity stupor into a greater awareness of our shared humanity, our shared destiny, and greater recognition that what is bad for some of us is bad for all of us.

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