Three Things Trump Taught Me

If nothing else, Trump taught me three things over 24 hours:

  1. I learned that truth was not a significant factor in yesterday’s presidential election. If truth mattered, facts and the public record would have stopped Trump dead in his tracks several times over.
  2. I learned that fitness to rule was also not a factor, which is why a pussy grabbing inheritor of a real estate fortune who was not even president of his high school class landed a staggering victory over a Yale-educated, glass ceiling-breaking, one-time first lady, ex-senator, ex-secretary of state.
  3. I learned that neither unemployment nor discontent were deciding factors. The unemployment rate among blacks is twice that of whites, and no population has been more marginalized and discontent in this country than racial minorities, blacks, Latinos, and indigenous peoples in particular. We did not see overwhelming support of any of these groups for either candidate.

That said, I would posit that there were three key factors that brought Trump supporters out in droves:

  1. The white birthrate is on the decline and for the first time in our history the aggregated birthrate of “minorities” exceeds that of whites.
  2. The US birth rate overall has been on the decline, yet the US population is growing solely due to immigration.
  3. Most importantly, US Census data indicate that the aggregated minority population will exceed that of whites in the US at some point in the next decade.

Irrespective of employment status, spanning all educational levels and geographical regions, white voters scared of the changing face of America were motivated by Trump’s thinly veiled call to arms.

Like Lincoln, Trump will preside over a country of opposing tribes which share no middle ground between them. The only question that matters now is whether or not Trump can rise to the occasion.

In her gracious concession speech, Hillary Clinton reminded us that Trump will be our president, and that we “owe him an open mind and the opportunity to lead.”

Lincoln, in his first inaugural address, put it this way:

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

Yesterday, when through my piss and vinegar I saw nothing but peril and disaster, a dear friend of mine sent me this quotation. She reminded me that optimism is neither naive, nor mutually exclusive with extreme guardedness.

Between now and January, we have but one choice: to remain vigilant while calling upon the better angels of our nature.