Well, after yesterday’s post, this open letter hits home (heavily edited for length here).
I’ve hated the patriarchy for a long time, for what it did to my career. More recently, I’ve come to hate it for what it’s done to my family.
Dear Mr. Trump:
…I’m a social worker.
… when someone got angry, I got curious. “Why are they angry?” I’d think. Sure, maybe I was annoying, but where did that anger come from?
…I’m much more concerned about the kid who’s being “bad.” I’m wondering what the message is behind his taunting, her racial slurs, his homophobia, her violence, his haughtiness.
I’ve learned, and it hasn’t always been easy, to look for the message behind the behavior, no matter how horrendous that behavior is to others (or to me).
See, I told you social work is a weird profession.
So when I hear you mock Marco Rubio (“little Marco”), or when I hear you talk about women as if they’re reduced to their biological cycle, or when I hear you be dismissive of other people (“You’re fired!”) I admit, I’m curious.
I want to know why you feel the need to say things in such an inflammatory, divisive, dismissive way.
What is behind this need to do that to others?
And let me say, this isn’t just you that I’m curious about, Mr. Trump.
I know a lot of your supporters. I’m related to several of them.
I’m really, really curious as to what happened to you and to them.
…I want to know why you feel the need to say things in such an inflammatory, divisive, dismissive way.
Especially dismissive. Why don’t you have a conversation where you respect the other person talking?
What are you covering up?
…I really don’t understand why, with all your money, with all your power, with all your status you, you, you of all people need to humiliate others. To, for lack of a better word, “bully” them.
I know that if I’m in a conversation or an argument with someone, and I’m feeling the desire to say something cutting or shaming, it’s because I’ve usually run out of logical argument strands.
…But I know that when I do it always means I “lost.”
…You can be you without having to prove to everyone how you-ish you are.
… except when your mother, your culture, your religion, and everything else around you is telling you that you can’t.
