I'm American, OK? (Part 2)

And I'm not necessarily ashamed, but definitely angry as shit.

To ride the full emotional rollercoaster, read part one of I’m American, OK.

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“To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late,” my high school orchestra director.

Here’s the thing about time: you can’t control it.

And, when you live with anxiety like yours truly, this ends up being a perpetual pickle…so much so that as a teenager, I essentially developed chronomentrophobia, a fear of clocks, or at least knowing what time it was.

However, once you start to understand how anxiety works, you realize that you can control the decisions you make regarding time. This might include things like borderline neurotic Google Calendar utilization; creating reusable lists; or perhaps channeling your inner George Costanza, stuffing your wallet with anything you could ever possibly not need.

You know who I don’t think has chronomentrophobia? President Joe Biden. For whatever reason, his dropping-out-of-the-race alarm clock got the ol’ snooze button treatment for months. And we could argue until we’re blue in the face whether Kamala Harris would’ve won had he dropped out earlier, but let’s leave that for another century, shall we?

So here we are: living through a second (and hopefully four-year) Trump presidency, where the bouillabaisse of chaos, uncertainty, and fear once again tastes like doo-doo. The first thing I think of any time I’m reminded of this unfortunate reality is, “Thank God my grandparents don’t have to witness this.”

😩

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In my previous “I’m American, OK?” post, I was ridin’ with Biden high: Joe had dropped out and Kamala was ascendant, surfing tidal waves of optimism that poured out of many Americans, like myself, who were in dire need of hope. I thought of my Grandma Margaret, who would’ve been overjoyed to see a woman candidate going head-to-head against an orange-tinted felon; my Grandma DD, who cried when she found out Trump was president the first time; my Grandpa Cookie, who loathed Trumpism’s racism and bigotry; and my Grandpa Dick (who passed in 2010), quite possibly the most down-to-earth human I’d ever met, who would’ve abhorred Trump’s mere presence on the political stage.

I still think shame is a detrimental emotion; like mushrooms, it festers in shit, but your emotional turmoil probably doesn’t taste as good in chicken marsala.

I spent most of last year’s fall feeling cautiously optimistic about the election; I understood and expected it to be a close race, and possibly one that Trump would contest if he were to once again be crowned loser. But as my old nemesis, time, crept closer to November, my optimism waned.

To level set, I live in Chicago: a city Trump hates (he probably loves ketchup), and the feeling is generally mutual. Most Chicagoans I know would rather cheer for the Packers than support Trump, so there’s that. Even though I happen to live in a more politically mixed neighborhood on the northwest side, I couldn’t help but notice the troubling number of obnoxiously large Trump 2024 flags hanging from the bungalows.*

When Trump won way too quickly, was the election stolen? who knows, the all-too-familiar pit of dread began to bubble up in my stomach, as I knew that the second shit rodeo would be way worse than the first.

I’ve always believed that Trump is a reflection of America’s worst qualities including hubris, greed, and adolescent selfishness. And the teenage angst makes sense: The U.S. is still a young country compared to, say, most of Europe. And even so, many European nations are still lil’ babies. Modern-day Italy, for example, is only 160 years old (aw.) Of course, the difference is—despite the technical birth date of many European countries—most have been through absolute hell, including two world wars and countless regional ones; the Holocaust and Holodomor; ethnic cleansing; the rise and fall of both communism and authoritarian regimes; and having to request ice at restaurants.

I believe the Trump sequel was inevitable; even if Kamala had won, I think it would’ve been a matter of time before it all fell apart with Trumpism swooping in to coddle the angry. The rage has been percolating for quite some time and, without any seismic changes or reforms, I doubt tensions would be easily diffused since our polarized sides seek two drastically different trajectories for the country.

Those of us who are abhorred by Trump and Trumpism might’ve protested in years past, surrounded by a spectrum of political philosophies from pink hat-wearing women to borderline antifa folks and everything in between. Today, protesting feels like child’s play: an important tool to keep in the toolkit, but ineffective on its own.

So what is to be done? Not to quite V.I. Lenin, but it’s a valid question and one I’m still grappling with in WEEK THREE.

For the gobsmacked, especially those not working in the government (Godspeed to you), I think we have a few duties:

1. We need to buckle up for a shitty few years (probably more than four, if I’m being honest) and, with that marathon in mind, we need to stay informed, but moderate our intake. There were better times than today to be human ostriches, so get those domes out of the sand and join us in reality, folks!

2. We only have so much energy and empathy, so focusing on a topic that’s most important to you is probably best. For now, mine is Trump’s deportations and helping someone I know navigate this terrifying landscape as they weigh whether it’s safe to leave home to work their second job (sacrificing much-needed family income in the process.)

3. Keep talking to people in real life and find opportunities to get involved locally. I’m hoping to join a local temple (aka the place Jews congregate) soon, which I think will provide some much-needed sanity and perhaps some more tangible ways to volunteer, donate, or do good.

4. You might hear the phrase “gum up the works” and I personally take much delight in this one. You can check out The Bulwark’s Tim Miller’s recent interview with Michael Steele to explore what this means.

5. Stay true to yourself. If you want to have gentle conversations with Trump voters to understand their motivations, great. Or if you’re pissed off and want to TP Trump Tower, go for it (but in this economy, I will not be supplying anyone with my Costco toiler paper.) Everyone and their mother (and me!) has an opinion on how we should be feeling, but you know what? Fuck ‘em (except me.)

So I’m not necessarily ashamed to be American, but I am deeply concerned and pissed off. The U.S. has its faults, many to be exact, and yet we also do a lot of good in the world and this should not be discounted or dismissed. And you know who is celebrating the U.S. rolling up its little soft-power circus while USAID gets gutted? Our enemies.

(Yes, we have enemies…all countries do…and you can abhor U.S. foreign policy choices all you want, but there are other forms of government out there that are more than ready to fill the global influence power vacuum and you probably wouldn’t like them.)

You may say, “Well, so what, we need to focus on Americans.”

And I agree.

But can’t we do both?!

As a country that’s rich as shit and more powerful than any country on Earth, can we not afford to take care of our people (the poor, the sick, the elderly, families, and children) while also doing good for the same populations in countries that struggle to catch up?

When we leave the world stage and slap tariffs on everyone, including our besties, it’s only a matter of time before the world gives up on us and finds other opportunities. We don’t want to be the global pariah: we need our international relationships and goodwill as much as we need our own people to vote, stay engaged, and speak out.

*I didn’t live in this neighborhood in 2020, so I’m not sure if there was a similar display of Trump love at that time, but it was still both surprising and concerning.