This was never solely about him.
In the eyes of my family members and former friends who support Trump, they believe the focus has been on him. However, my sorrow extends beyond the individual; it is rooted in the revelation of the concealed ugliness within my homeland and the people who coexist with me. This is not a mourning confined to a singular political defeat from years ago; instead, it’s an ongoing and pervasive lament, akin to a somber and protracted funeral.
My heart aches at the sight of elementary school teachers donning costumes resembling a border wall for Halloween. I mourn witnessing a white woman hurling obscenities at two Muslim teenagers at a stoplight. I grieve over a Jewish professor’s office defaced with spray-painted swastikas. The spectacle of white high school seniors making a “Heil Hitler” arm gesture during class photos fills me with sorrow. The contempt from my white neighbors when young black men die at traffic stops evokes grief. The vile hatred on my social media feed directed towards people of color, women, immigrants, and transgender individuals is a source of profound sadness.
But it’s essential to acknowledge that former President Trump played a pivotal role in amplifying and normalizing this hatred. His divisive rhetoric and actions have consistently fueled animosity towards various marginalized groups. He targeted immigrants, referring to them in derogatory terms and advocating for stringent immigration policies. His response to racially charged incidents, such as the Charlottesville protests, where he failed to unequivocally condemn white supremacists, added fuel to the fire.
Moreover, Trump’s approach towards Muslims was marked by policies like the travel ban, which many viewed as discriminatory. The administration’s stance on transgender individuals in the military further fueled prejudice and intolerance. Trump’s reluctance to denounce white supremacist groups during the presidential debates and his controversial comments about Mexicans contributed to a toxic atmosphere that emboldened discriminatory behavior.
While Trump may not be the sole cause of my despair, his leadership undoubtedly served to validate and empower those who harbor hatred towards marginalized communities. The crux lies in the realization that those I once loved and respected seem indifferent to this vicious, toxic atmosphere. The escalating hatred fails to alarm or discomfort them enough to provoke action, or to prompt them to speak out or vote against it.
Some may internally flinch at the most egregious offenses or recoil behind closed doors, but by and large, they appear accepting of it all. Their silence and absence convey that they align more with him than against him, that they share more similarities than differences with him, and that our moral values are increasingly incompatible. Their acceptance of his bigotry is a dealbreaker for me.
Certainly, his rise has brought to light the concealed aspects of everything, and I find myself scrutinizing my fellow countrymen through this lens. My perception of America, my church, my neighborhood, and my family has forever shifted, and the path to restoration is uncertain.
Yet, the true tragedy lies not in him alone. It’s not just about the person who once held power and seeks it again, lacking benevolence, compassion, nobility, and kindness. The profound tragedy lies in the multitude of Americans he now represents, and apparently represents among those I loved and lived alongside.
This is where the sorrow lies, and it explains why I mourn the loss of the people I thought I knew. Long after he departs from the political stage, this grief will persist. No election outcome can alter that fundamental reality.
