It's hardly a secret that Simon is a little different. We have that in common. We have both had to deal with bullies, had difficulty finding "our" people, and we've watched people in our social circles become casualties of a world that fears different. Before he left for school this morning, I woke to hear him saying, "How can Trump win?" He's seen enough of the guy on TV to understand how hateful he is. Kids can see it pretty obviously.
But I can't answer his question. I can't explain it. For me at least, it's the classic unreconcilable autism moment. I can't explain a world that rejects critical thinking, science, expertise, civil discourse, equality and the law. American sentiment toward its government, at a time when almost every objective measurement shows things moving in the right direction, overwhelmingly rejects that measurement. And while Harris could certainly be faulted for a great many things, it doesn't change the fact that right and wrong exist. It is the difference between a felon and a prosecutor, literally.
As I've contemplated some kind of explainer, more and more, I'm having to accept a reality that I've been rejecting myself for more than a decade. The United States is a racist and misogynistic country. Trump is, objectively, and by definition, a racist and misogynist. The problem is that half of America doesn't care. Over and over again, it has marginalized its own people. It started with Black people and women. Then it was immigrants from Ireland, Italy and Greece. Then it doubled down on classic racism. Then it was Asians, east and south, the Middle Eastern folks, Jews, Muslims, and more than ever Latinos, despite being a significant portion of the population. And of course, LGBTQ folks have been bearing the brunt of hate for all of American history.
I still, probably naively, hang on to some kind of hope. Like a lot of people, I'm sure that art is where I root that. In the TV show The Newsroom, Sorkin writes a monologue for the lead where he explains how not awesome we actually are:
Just in case you accidentally wander into a voting booth one day, there are some things you should know, and one of them is there is absolutely no evidence to support the statement that we’re the greatest country in the world. We’re seventh in literacy, 27th in math, 22nd in science, 49th in life expectancy, 178th in infant mortality, third in median household income, number four in labor force, and number four in exports. We lead the world in only three categories: Number of incarcerated citizens per capita, number of adults who believe angels are real, and defense spending where we spend more than the next 26 countries combined, 25 of whom are allies. Now, none of this is the fault of a 20-year- old college student, but you nonetheless are without a doubt a member of the worst period generation period ever period. So when you ask what makes us the greatest country in the world, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Yosemite?
But with that, he pivots:
We sure used to be. We stood up for what was right. We fought for moral reasons. We passed laws, struck down laws for moral reasons. We waged wars on poverty, not poor people. We sacrificed. We cared about our neighbors. We put our money where our mouths were and we never beat our chest. We built great big things, made ungodly technological advances, explored the universe, cured diseases, and we cultivated the world’s greatest artists and the world’s greatest economy. We reached for the stars, acted like men. We aspired to intelligence. We didn’t belittle it. It didn’t make us feel inferior. We didn’t identify ourselves by who we voted for in the last election and we didn’t–we didn’t scare so easy. Huh. Ahem, we were able to be all these things and do all these things because we were informed. By great men, men who were revered. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one. America is not the greatest country in the world anymore.
I'm willing to admit there's a problem. It's all I've got. It makes me incredibly sad, because it doesn't have to be this way. We're being tested, and at a point in my life where I'm so tired of the test. People that I care about are going to get hurt. The people who want to hurt them have been empowered. It's not a good time to be different.
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