It’s the kind of thing some frogs don’t notice until they’re boiling in it. It starts with dissatisfaction, confusion, a sense of displacement or not belonging. We humans tend to cling in desperate times; the masses need some opiate.
In this particular case the driving force is an outdated American Dream—a nostalgia for a past that only existed for the few. It’s a dream of white-picket fences, cloistering your women and children while you win the bacon at your office job. It’s a dream of the Black maid you pay pennies smiling graciously and bowing her head in delicate subservience. It’s a dream of your daughter’s virginity, your son’s freedom. It’s a dream of absolute power, of that magical time after the war and before the Civil Right movement when we were the only economy left standing and it stood mainly for white men.
The world has changed too much already, they want it back how it was when they were young and the world open before them.
They want to keep out the refugees with their sad eyes, the Mexicans with their rough hands. They want to re-domesticate women. They decide out of fear. They want the world on the other side of the glass. They want their Black men whistling as they work and their daughters pure as snow far, far away from the sweat and song.
They want guns so they can lynch.
They want a strong military to lynch on a global scale.
They see no subtlety, no granular detail. Only black and white exist on this old TV screen.
Free speech but the Bible in public schools.
They want you to say “Merry Christmas,” goddamnit.