If Donald Trump were actually a legitimate candidate, criticizing his character, scrutinizing his policies and career, even labeling him racist, or bigot, or just generally aloof when it comes to the who what when and where of his own ideas, makes complete sense. But, if he is not a legitimate candidate in the eyes of his supporters, but more of comeuppance, a source of revenge against the liberal trend that elected a black man named Barack Obama, twice, the insults are nothing but complete and apparent validation. I recognize the rhetoric liberal voices are hurling at Trump’s symbolic campaign, I heard them mirrored in the conservative voices that have been defaming and blaming Obama just as passionately for the past eight years. By hating him, you swell his support. You are digging trenches for entrenched people. Donald Trump is just a man. And in case you hadn’t noticed, the presidency chews up men and spits out curve-backed bureaucrats. We’ve had worse, and what’s worse, the worst were never called bigot. At the very least, Trump pulled the mask off the Republican party when he went to put it on himself. At the very least, with him, we already know what to expect. But he makes much more sense as Obama-revenge than a legitimate candidate. This election is not about the two individuals running. Americans have been asked to vote for either fear or revenge to become the next leader of the United States. Same as it ever was.
I could draw you a diagram or present a plea, but rest assured, have little fear, there will never be an election for me. I do the electing in my life. This one puny vote is the entirety of what matters. I elect picking up a pen and turning it into words, clutching paper and farming tools, perched spinning in a desk chair or high upon a thin stool. I elect small humble tasks and they elect me right back. I declare no interest or desire, no chart, no graph, no promise or intent. When the meek start casting votes, the result will never read Jeremiah Trent.
We all use words. Laws are written with them, and to-do lists, final testaments, Facebook statuses. We have had governments promise freedom and yet give us no functional expectation for living in the reality of such a word. I’ve never been handed a universal definition for the word freedom, or even the word fear I keep being told is supposed to shut me up asking about freedom. We all use words. But I want to know what all they entail before I’m used by them.
Let’s say, for the sake of conjecture, fear and freedom don’t have fixed meanings, but are more like compass bearings. By definition, just directions.
We were taught freedom like it was a destination, like we would arrive there someday and plant a flag. But in my experience, freedom is vague, changing, real enough to pursue and yet removed enough to never be discovered. Like a compass-bearing. And you may walk south to get west, and east to go north. Freedom does not give an indication of the mountains that lie between here and freedom. Experienced only in the ability to make progress. Freedom seems to be more directional, like east or west. We may only ever really see it in the face of a compass.