If you are here, you likely know a little about me. For today’s purposes, new folks just need to know that I take great pride in my half yankee-half redneck upbringing. Born in Buffalo, relocated to Shreveport when I was 9 years old. I’ve never felt a need to pick a side. My friends in both places have never asked me to. Hell, I think this year some might actually be rooting for a Bills/Saints SuperBowl WITH me. All of this is to say that in 2016, I had some very happy friends. I also had some incredibly traumatized friends that struggled to wrap their brain around why a smooth talking scoundrel that didn’t demonstrate any tangible traits in the way of morality managed to turn his campaign from a molehill into a mountain. I wasn’t shocked. Was I a little surprised? Yes. But not shocked. It was no secret that conservative states felt under represented. No denying that Trump had been stirring the pot with birther conspiracies, scraping the racist resin from the bottom of our collective pan until it floated to the top, no longer hidden. Toss in the feeling of familiarity one has with tv personalities that come into your home on a weekly basis, saute in some “straight talk” (i.e. off color language that really irks the women studies types) and voila, you have the “people’s candidate”.
I’d be lying if I said I was fine with this. I wasn’t. I don’t want to seem as though I woke up the day after election day and carried on in a usual fashion. It took a minute to recalibrate. I spent time imagining the best case scenario as often as I could. I found myself striving to see the things some of my southern friends had seen. WAS he just saying ridiculous things because he understood the media game and Bannon knew that would help him win? Surely he was going to pivot to something more, Presidential? Maybe my friends knew something I didn’t. This is why I wasn’t afraid. I knew and loved people who thought this was the right direction. People I could relate too. Not idiots. Not radicals nor racists. Good people.
Seeing my progressive friends panicked about the future, genuinely scared about their (our) rights vanishing offered a perspective I had been lacking. “Oh this core level of fear is exactly what Republicans felt about Obama, they were genuinely afraid he would take their guns” It provided clarity for me.I felt sturdy in my ability to find the familiar ground with both sides. After all, I had just spent the last 8 years telling my southern friends that I didn’t believe the government wanted to come and take their guns. The next few years, I’d just pivot and remind my liberal pals that the powers that be want the middle and lower classes to be at odds with each other. I even reached out to one of my southern cohorts with this idea. The screenshot below is what where we started
That was 2017. The idea was the embryo of Dykotomy. The concept that I could do good work by holding a middle ground I feel comfortable in and leaning into the discomfort of others, while working towards understanding something from people who on the surface seemed very different. I have quite a few friends, like this guy, that started as “ let’s shake it up with something new, I don’t like the other option” sort of Trump supporters. I don’t default to “internalized misogyny” to justify all male Trump supporters. As a matter of fact, this particular guy, I had worked with as a teenager and had demonstrated, even in his early twenties, that he judged people by the content of their character when I went for a job that had only been previously occupied by teenage boys ( I got the job, btw) My point is I wanted to highlight the glowing examples I had of southern Americans that defied stereotypes, and loved their country and its citizens but maybe saw things through a different lens.
Fast forward three years. This weekend, after the Stop the Steal riot on the Capitol, I was more engaged on social media than I have been in awhile. That’s another story for another day. Just trust I was back on that scroll hole game strong this week. I happened upon the fellow from above, on a thread. THIS. THIS was what I needed! Remember the people of strong character, whose morality actually matters to them. Whether born of the church or the rodeo, or maybe both. Those people, with high standards for their own behavior. The ones who teach their children to say ma’am and sir. Surely they see this is a problem, right? I thought to myself. At the very least I expected to be on different ends of the political spectrum, but to find common ground in our Americanism. I expected the benefit of the doubt we had always afforded the other. The sort of benefit you give to people you’ve shared enough time and space with, that you trust that before you trust the headlines on tv. I expected a well formed debate, with an underlying agreement that breaking into the Capitol was a threat to national security and unbecoming of a patriot.
Instead, I got told that maybe if I “got my face out of whatever fat twat it was in”, I’d be able to see how the election was stolen. Obviously, I’m me so I dropped a FIRE pic of my smoking hot girlfriend and some witty line about “maybe rethink you assumptions”
That’s when our message thread from 2017 came back to life. I received a private message with a picture of him and his GF. She’s not white, but you probably knew that when I said he sent it in a DM, huh? I thought, OK. here we go. Private discussion. Let’s do the fucking work. Thanks for the trust in sending me this, I thought. or is this a game? Either way I was down to hash it out with an old buddy.
I did not see THIS coming
This guy and I have had maybe one interaction, if any, in the last four years. We’ve had no personal falling outs. I didn’t fuck his girl or him mine. This is what tells me that this is going to get worst before it gets better. This simple interaction with someone who has no real bearing in my day to day, or I in his, is in such stark contrast to what it was a mere three years before. I found my resolve that this country could bounce back with some bridge building. I remained sturdy in my belief that I would revisit the men and women of character from my youth and find a common ground of civility. Profile after profile was littered with the crumbs of a conman. Stolen elections and Antifa in disguise. Today I’m sad. For myself and for my country.
Buckle up, America.
It’s one thing to know common ground might be hard to find, it’s another thing entirely to know that some folks no longer have interest in searching for it.
Well stated. I agree, we’ve got to find a leader who can bring us together, but am fearful it won’t/can’t happen.