Thursday, March 17, 2016

...where I firmly plant my feet. #AtADrumpfRally

I went to a drumpf rally. You’re mostly not surprised by this because well, you probably follow me on some kind of social media, so you already know. You were witness to my posts.

Had I returned from another trip courtesy of Delta – Don’t Give A Damn About My Life Or Schedule – Airlines, and told you, Hey, while I was in Chicago, I went to a donald drumpf rally, you would have replied, Bish, whet?…because, that’s the accurate and most appropriate response.

Before he became this thing we warn our children about at night while they say their prayers, he was never someone of interest to me. I mean, like never. Like, when people talk about ridiculously rich people I think about the Chinese Government, Wine Salesmen, and natural resources from Africa. I never think about that dude. Because, like, why?

Anyway, my only friend in Chicago told me that he was going to the drumpf rally. And I really wanted to see that friend, so one Evenbrite *that nobody checked at the entrance later* I was there – without him because he hadn’t made it to the venue yet and I was only a mile away.

Walking up to the UIC Pavilion was the easy part. The sun was still out. Traffic was moving normally – for what I assume about downtown Chicago. And for the most part, the fact that one of the vilest creatures that Hell ever made was planning to incite the worst in the poorly educated on a college campus, was just a couple hours away – people seemed okay. In good spirits. Selling their wares without dispute. Taking line selfies.

It was only then I realized I was there. At a drumpf rally. All. By. Myself.

The last time I was this scared I got a call about my Daddie being in the hospital. I felt real, palpable fear for my existence. I never want to know that again.

I tucked my fear way and conjured up some #BlackGirlMagic. Which was timely because a group of black girls (undergraduates from UIC) were in line. We made eye contact. I smiled. One approached and inquired *very* hesitantly, Are you a drumpf supporter? To which I casually responded, Hell to every naw, individually and collectively.

I was a lone wolf no longer. I had a pack. And my pack was the ish, bro. The. Ish. As we made our way through the lines, one young lady commented, Like how is my tuition paying for a building that this man is speaking in? Not only just my tuition, but my city too. #QuestionsThatNeedAnswers

Another stopped at a table of drumpf paraphernalia and curiously asked, So, what does ‘Make-America-Great-Again’ mean? Of course, of all the inquiries, no intelligible answer was given. Each time though, she engaged, listened without interruption, and invited discourse. Each time though, she left without a clear understanding of this ‘greatness’ drumpf is purporting to provide should he win. Unless that “bomb the hell out of ISIS” button was what he meant. *shrugs*

Entering was easy. Too easy. Easy like, I had a ticket, but not a soul who works there knows it – because nobody asked to see it. Not the event staff. Not the police. Not even the Secret Service dude that felt me up. I swear that look in his eye before I approached was like, Yeah, you next…gimme dat @$$... There is no feeling like the victimization that plays in your mind, knowing that some version of it is about to happen, and really, there is nothing you can do about it to change it. I was hella nervous. It wasn’t so much that he violated my lady parts (he didn’t), but the idea that the purpose for his gloved hands touching me is for the protection of the spawn of anti-christ. That somehow, the person that’s speaking here today is so important, so worthy of protection, that there might be something wrong with me, so I must be checked.

Who checks him? Who protects me from him? What damage can I do with a bag of snacks?

These beautiful black children (after throwing shade about my snacks) led me to the floor. You know, the place, where people gather around a stage, where the person on the program speaks. Orange wristbands and watchful eyes, we joined the crowd. In the eye of the storm. At the furthest point away from every exit. In a sea of hate. Drowning.

…and like their shade suggested, I went into Mom-Mode. Because this is war, and my babies are going to make it out alive. Look at all the hateful faces at our blackness. Like they legitimately were ready to pop off on us on site. Waiting for someone to do something so they can act up…like…when one of the kids attempted to join the rest of the wolfpack and navigate the crowd. Apparently, she “pushed” someone because people who are super close to each other in a crowd have sooooo much space to get around the people in said crowd.

I told her that she needed to step back next to me and wait. That her presence and attempt to join the melanin in the middle of the group would enrage the people around her and that would not be the best thing to do right now.

...my people though. #AboutThatLife #MakingMoralDecisions
She hung her once bright head, looking at me, and said, I wish my presence didn’t incite such anger. I wish I didn’t have to stand here.

I’m never having kids. Ever. Like what are you parents telling your children? I need answers! Because I sure as ish didn’t know what to say to her. How do I help her in her righteous social action and save her life at the same damn time? Those people were just waiting, impatiently, for one of them to say something, do something, hell, be more themselves so they could get it started. I had nothing for her.

Enter deep, dark, depression.

More people began to filter in. Our safety continued to decrease. Mostly because we got separated. Between the reporters, crazed costumed drumpf’ers, and speckles of blackness, I lost my pack. I took a seat in the stands. I figured I would watch it all happen, position myself to record as much as possible, and safely wait for my friend because this was his idea in the first darn place!

Drumpf supporters are poorly worded sound bites of hatred. Nothing was coherent about their cheers or their conversations with each other. Make Healthcare Great Again! Ma’am, did you know that most people with preexisting health conditions could not get health coverage prior to the Affordable Health Care Act? Was there something else that was great about healthcare? Because that part, all by itself, is really shitty.

No response.

*man standing silently before the speech (that didn’t happen) was supposed to start* He stood in the stands, off from the stage, holding a torn drumpf sign in his hands. Being unapologetically black and living with Melissa Harris Perry in that f**kless space where we all aspire to rent or own homes. #MyAgentIsLookingForADuplexAsWeBlog

Get him out of here! He’s causing a disruption! Look at him! He’s trash!!!

But what did he say to you?

*crickets* then make america great again cheers.

What did I learn?

Some of us don't love us too.
♫♪ my country, tis of thee, hates the ish outta me ♪♫ There just isn’t anything else to it. I am convinced. I am now more persuaded than I have ever been, that it is indeed the best in us, the magic in us black folks that have caused this – no our worst. The brutalization of people because they think differently at a political rally is contrary to the amendments those folks proudly stand for – but somehow I’m an okay exception? There were people there who really would not have given a broken, beat up, and busted f*ck if I had made it home alive. Like, how is it possible to share a national identity with people like that?

Why in the hell am I spending my time developing your children, when you don’t even extend to me the common courtesy of an excuse me?

Why, as tax payers, as citizens, as Americans (which wasn’t by choice, but, well, amurikkka), do we allow this to happen? It’s often the disposition that this is politics and we must conform to its structure. But if it’s meant to serve me and it doesn’t, why in the world and I conforming to it? We should have taken some Miss Sophia like advice and burned that building down #WorryAboutHeavenLater. But we did the next best thing. #ShutItDown

I don’t work for politicians. Politicians work for me. And it’s high time I put them to work. Or drag them like Congressman Matt Cartwright did the governor of Michigan. This is absurd in the most asinine ways. Jelani Cobb  said, which I believe in my entire being, from ovaries to overbite, that free speech stops being free at the moment it limits my freedom:

These are not abstractions. And this is where the arguments about the freedom of speech become most tone deaf. The freedom to offend the powerful is not equivalent to the freedom to bully the relatively disempowered. The enlightenment principles that undergird free speech also prescribed that the natural limits of one’s liberty lie at the precise point at which it begins to impose upon the liberty of another. #JelaniCobb

Who is defending that? Who is hell bent on bombing the ish out of people who intrude on my liberty? Where is the button for that?

I had a conversation with a friend about that young woman’s first line of questioning. About why colleges and universities hosts events like this. Events we know are counterintuitive to the mission, vision, and strategic goals of our institutions. I mean, where, like WHERE is anything drumpf says located in our institutional documents? He wants to deport undocumented persons. Our schools PROVIDE SERVICES for undocumented students. Sure though, politics, policy, pretending to adhere to some protocol that cannot be changed, right? #UselessPandering

Heavy the head that knows where the University President’s Office key is located. Because I imagine if it were me, I probably would have had an answer for that beautiful black girl. Your tuition dollars aren’t funding this. Because it ain’t happening here. Swerve, drumpf. Swerve.

His speech ain’t free. It damages the very fabric of everything all of these people at the rally claim they believe. Though at the time the Constitution was written, it wasn’t completely for me, some revisions have been made. There are protections in there for the 1st 3/5ths of me and the other 2/5ths. And he’s not defending it. He’s damaging it. And when we host him, we defend him.

We all come to a hill that we die on. This is mine. It's not just mine either. It should be yours. If John Oliver or his chrome extension doesn't convince you, I am not sure there is an argument anyone could make.

Nothing was free about this. We all paid a price in Chicago.

Our Humanity.

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Someone posted something the other day about black people attending drumpf rallies. Something to the effect of, for, why? Like, nobody wants you there…so what’s the purpose of attending?

Uh, duh.

Here is a list of all the places I wouldn’t go because people didn’t want me there:

          1. Almost every damn where I’ve ever been. In life. Ever.

Bye. Miss me with that fake righteousness. You don’t get to take the decision from me. If I want to witness the present day incarnation of the violence my ancestors experienced so that I might have a choice, and disrupt it by making them uncomfortable then – present and accounted for. My time at UCLA helped me practice being in exactly the spaces you think I shouldn’t be in because, eff you.

Enter – drumpf rally.

Just like I don’t deserve God’s grace and I get it anyway, I don’t deserve the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune I received in that Pavilion – but I made people real anxious and will post pictures on facebook because, Shaun King will find you. #HeIsConnectedLikeTheNSA #OnlyBetter

I’m so disheartened by all of this. So very sad. Was this the better that was promised to me? Why is everyone so unwilling to do something about this man? We’ve clearly went way too far. Why won’t we just stop it? Why are we okay with this kind of hate?

What drumpf is doing to the american people is monstrous.

And the monsters are showing up. 

We are becoming them. 

All of us.

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