Polarized America and the Rise of Populism: A Nation Divided
The drive to D.C. was uneventful as usual, east coast journeys aren’t particularly exciting. New Jersey is an awful place to travel through, desolate, grey, mundane and has a stench of a shitty uncleaned school bus, like the ones I used to ride back home in Illinois. Maryland doesn’t call attention to itself. I can’t even remember anything curious about Delaware, very similar to the previous politicians in office before the 2008 elections. Bill and George only give me memories of my parents or sitting on the floor of grandfather’s house as he grumbled about the legislative discussions broadcasted on C-span. I was living in Illinois then, I was young, and it was just another boring white guy saying how they too can rule the United States better than their predecessor, this was before the first black man came into office, before I moved to New York, and before Donald Trump won the election.
The excitement of attending the inauguration has certainly been clouded by Trump’s campaign, with personal anger at times, resentment, flabbergasted at how the election for our highest office turned out, it was telling in D.C. We arrived in the nation’s capital late Thursday night before the inauguration, to find it barren, empty and uncomfortably quiet. Fourteen students from New York’s Dutchess Community College, armed with cameras, backpacks, and gloves, stormed the heavily secured capital in an attempt to obtain a glimpse of what would follow the next few days. I’ve never been to D.C., let alone the night prior to the inauguration. The people seemed somber, unenthused, the red and black dressed upper crust downtown held an indifferent attitude, not much excitement, the party not in full effect, as I imagine it’s hard to fake joy in the hearts of the Americans after the door had been progressively swung wide open for 8 years and to find it slammed shut in the face of a new era.
The train ride into the city was marked by a distinct lack of excitement. Many of those wearing red caps stood with seemingly guilty faces and a suspicious demeanor, as if they were unsure about our new leader or hesitantly waiting for confrontation from opposing groups. As we barreled towards D.C., the uncertainty concerning the events to come grew almost surreal. I stepped off the train onto the platform and rode the escalator up to the main terminal of Union Station. In every corner and pathway stood an officer, properly armed to protect the citizens of our country.
My first steps onto Columbus Circle gave me my first taste of the protests and divisiveness that would largely define the day’s events. Protesters occupied the entire plaza, holding signs expressing resistance towards the man who would be sworn in only a few short hours from our arrival in D.C. A variety of acclaimed communists, socialists, anarchists, and Black Lives Matter members standing in solidarity and concern for our nation, namely, its new political landscape. Demonstrators sang songs, chanted, and eventually left the likes of Union Station to begin a day long march around the city.
We brushed past the Capitol Building, with intense security blocking many roadways and walkways to the events. Unable to obtain valid press passes which would allow us access to the inauguration, we stood at one of the exits awaiting the attendants to fill the streets of downtown. As the cannons shot off the presidential salute, people began pouring out into the streets, reporters, activists, merchandise salesmen like carnies. With a look of confusion, realization and a hint of joy, the red capped supporters stormed the streets with cash in hand, purchasing memories from the entrepreneurial folks trading paper for brightly colored fabric, like the end of a Super Bowl or some similar sporting event. You could hear the end of days protesters exclaiming that all of us, the gays, the sinners, the rich, the poor, needed to repent for our sins before God himself came down to do away with our terrible actions here on earth.
A few protesters of the new administration scattered the crowd of red, in a quiet and peaceful fashion, being ridiculed at times but mostly ignored by the patrons of the event. A circus of American tradition, for one moment under the sky we were all equal in the square, the same corner, selling each other our goods, through t-shirts, pretzels, photographs or interviews, regardless of how the campaign played out, the citizens of this country continued to participate with a reasonable and respectful manner. The rain was drizzling over tailored suits, long peacoats, red hats, ponchos, and the new era of anti-establishment-establishment politics. They had won. But it didn’t feel so glorious anymore. The campaign was over. Now it’s real. No question about it.
I approached a man leaving the inauguration with tears of joy in his eyes wearing a slick wind breaker, short hair, clean-shaven face. His name was Chris and he had travelled from Pennsylvania. “Tears of joy, tears of joy, a long campaign, 16 states and 20,000 miles I left a lot out there.” He continued to stammer his words, “I volunteered with the campaign up and down the east coast, I left it all out there.” He mentioned the new form of politics and how he was going to further it internationally. “I’m going to Slovenia here in a few days and I’m going to see how they take our temperature now.” Chris continued, “I think populism is on the rise and nationalism, as soon as you say, [it] it’s a code word for Adolf, you know?” Chris spoke pridefully of his nationalistic values, while at the same time denying associated accusations of Nazism in an attempt to escape the stigma tied to the concept.
With the inauguration over we awaited the next planned tradition for a new president, the parade down Pennsylvania Avenue. Again, unable to get into the heavily guarded area, we set up shop outside the parade route. With camera’s and audio recorders on que. Many red-clad patrons stood in line for hours to see the man in his heavily guarded motorcade ride past the White House. But for the majority of the time (as reported by my colleagues) he sat in his limo, tinted windows rolled up, looking onto the joyous crowd. Unfortunately for the many who stood in line for access to the parade for more than 2 hours, they did not attend the parade. After every minute passed, the line thinned out as people began to turn around, leaving D.C. to their hotels or to resturants unable to see the man they had voted in only a few short weeks prior.
The tone set by many of the Trump supporters I had the opportunity to speak to was that of hope. The hope that giving a young senator from Illinois a chance in 2008 would produce tangible change for them. And now, renewed hope in Trump. Their feelings of dissatisfaction with the Obama administration, they assured me, were not an expression of racism. They did so without my ever questioning their personal views towards people of color. Given the events that were to unfold throughout the day, it became difficult to believe that these people were not in some way prejudiced in their attitudes.
Including a man named Jim from Ohio, a Trump supporter
“The county I live in, Lorain County, primarily democratic, Obama won by 16 points in the last election. Trump flipped a 16 point difference. The state of Ohio, he won by 9 percent when Obama won by 8. I don’t think it’s a case of the wood work it’s a case of I voted for Obama the first time, give the guy a chance, but if you’re objective and look at what the guy has done, he really hasn’t delivered much. People like me, who are not racist, voted for Obama, look, and say what have you done? So we’re giving Trump a chance and that’s how democracy works. Trump is the epitome of the American dream, the American success story, he’s done it. He looks at this like a Super Bowl, like a sporting event the primary was like a football season. Let’s say you're following the Pittsburgh Steelers, he created that fan experience, hey we’re Trump fans! Look how many people have red hats on, the merchandise that’s been selling is unbelievable. I think he looks at this like the Super Bowl and you’re a part of the team. He’s looking to crush the Democrats.”
This was a common sentiment I received from many of the Trump supporters. They gave Obama a chance, and he failed them.
The vast majority of the events were entirely peaceful and celebratory as we chatted and engaged with supporters of our new leader and the resistance alike. But as we’ve come to realize in our society, not everything is so cut and dry. Especially to those have turned to an alternative view of politics of this country stretches beyond right or left, moderate or extremist. As I learned from my colleague who covered a riot near K Street, a diverse patchwork of protesters affiliated with a variety of activist groups, held a protest in McPherson Square in an attempt to delegitimize the presidency. Members of the #DisruptJ20 group earlier had attempted to block entrances into the new president’s inauguration and parade. The protest itself at McPherson was seemingly peaceful from the reports I had been given, until it was disrupted by outside agitators including a chapter of the Klu Klux Klan. What initially began as a peaceful protest grew violent. A limousine was set ablaze, pepper spray and tear gas was dispersed almost at random, a man stripped naked telling the cops to repent for their sins, and rocks along with flashbangs were tossed around the micro quagmire. A sight described by the media as a malicious, violent act towards the police officers providing security for the patrons of the events, but like anything in the modern era of the information age, nothing is that easily summed up. To say the #DisruptJ20 protesters were innocent is just as much nonsense as saying the police who indiscriminately pepper sprayed members of the press, innocent bystanders, and tossed flashbangs into crowds of people were in good conscience on a day, presumably, of celebration. Every protest in this country has the entire nation watching, just waiting for something violent to insue. That would all change on Saturday for the Women’s March as over 1 million protestors would pile into the same city, same lawn, that previously held our new president’s inauguration.
As a new day dawned under a new administration, but once again, a man takes office, now living in the house that had been occupied by men since the beginning of this country. Less than 24 hours into Trump’s Presidency, hundreds of thousands of women decided to speak up against our misogynistic, rape culture-perpetuating president. Groups of women in the hotel lobby share coffee along with us just an hour outside of our nation’s capital. Unlike yesterday’s protest against our new commander in chief, these women are much more organized, deliberate, and united in a message towards the new man in the White House. Traffic was tight on the way into D.C. from our hotel in Virginia as half a million demonstrators were expected to march on the capital.
We arrived in D.C. this time by way of van to find many more roads blocked off than the previous day, and crowds of people in pink caps instead of red, with protest signs in tow walking cheerfully towards the meeting spot arranged by the event’s organizers. After about an hour of traffic in downtown Washington, we found ourselves again at Union Station as the line of people grew unfathomable, eventually occupying the entire mall and parade route. The feeling of the day was joyous, defiant, and oddly optimistic. The sheer number of demonstrators was evidence of the hope that a well organized campaign can bring to the hearts of the American people. Reminding us that no matter who is occupying the White House, we can come together in solidarity for one goal and one message. Miles of smiling faces occupied D.C., early that day and late into the night. Many strongly worded posters were carried by the disillusioned, the young and old, male and female alike as they descended upon the National Mall.
With cameras rolling, a sight for the ages was seen. Regardless of anyone’s political affiliation, the songs and dances and celebrations of pride in their sexuallity and gender were genuinely moving. I spoke to many women about their reasoning for heading to Washington on that fateful day, most of whom were compassionate, positive and purely enamored with the power of protest. “It’s horrifying what’s happening right now. I often wonder, had I lived through the decade of the 60’s what I would’ve done. Would I have stood up for people who were literally being treated as a lesser human being than I was,” said Angela from New York. “I thought how maybe 5 or 10 years ago, wow lucky I never really know what I would do, but now I’m in this position, we’re either on one side or the other.” And that was the tone, the remarks that were commonplace in the weekends events. It’s us versus them. There is no middle ground between a Trump supporter or a women’s marcher. No one is seeing eye to eye in the slightest. The electoral college was also in question by many of the supposed liberal minded groups of people I encountered. People questioned our democracy, be it directly or indirectly, due to Hillary winning the popular vote yet, losing the election. Angela reiterated, “For the first time, I’m so unsure as to what the future holds, I really am. But we kind of need to be here, it’s like hitting rock bottom and building back up.”
The protest was incredible with more people attending than the inauguration itself, reaching over 1 million people in attendance without a single arrest being made throughout the entire day. Yet, the weekend still leaves me questioning our polarized society. Are we truly fighting against each other or just speaking in different manners? We left D.C. exhausted, enamoured as young journalists given the chance to encounter such a historic moment, but with few answers concerning the future of our country. A country that is seemingly more liberal-minded under a conservative administration. What’s next? How high will tensions reach before the labor of women and men in protest or simple acts of compassion for our opposing neighbors become a path for normality in differences of opinion? With a new administration in power, with more information spreading faster than anyone could have imagined, even Orwell himself, we find ourselves further from the truth of the American people than ever before. A democracy functions as a collection of individuals voicing their political beliefs. But can we, the average woman or man, ever truly prosper in such a system that favors the collective over the individual? The media does not create the answers, only the questions, talking to common people gave me more hope for the future of our society than any news outlet could have ever managed to. Speak to your neighbors face to face, not line to line.
