So I have been pretty sick over the last three days. Not just coughing and runny nose. Nah, I’m talking high-grade fever that wouldn’t let up. I knew there was something wrong with me, something “abnormal” wrong. This wasn’t the kind of sickness that seemed like I could just throw it off.
I felt like I was burning.
But even though I was running a pretty consistent fever of like 102 degrees Fahrenheit (with some fluctuation), it took me a long time to realize I was in a critical stage at this point. Why? Because – and this is absolutely key – I felt almost no pain. In fact, that burning sensation, which felt the same as dunking your entire body, head included, into a hot tub that’s a little too hot for you to get used to … felt good.
But the discomfort was minor compared with the overwhelming sense of relaxation I got from the warmth. It was like having a heating pad for my whole body. Anywhere that ached, that strong almost comfortable feeling would inevitably intrude and the pain would be submerged beneath it.
Love does not by any means mean sane or compassionate.
So I had to force myself out of the lull I had fallen into and make myself go to the Emergency Room. Because even though I felt wonderful. Glowing. Positively lovely, in fact. Even though I felt suspiciously at ease, I also knew that I might have been going into shock.
In much the same way as my inability to properly analyze the symptoms I was experiencing thanks to the brilliant deduction that I “felt good”, I have come to understand that in conflict it is not a wise decision to proclaim any one thing, as that which is wholly good or negative consequence.
Case in point: Love.
Love is “something that can make you do wrong, [and] make you do right.” It is the former part of the statement however, that has caught my attention as of late. Many horrible things are done in the name of love, and as active opponents of those grievous actions it behooves us to take how our enemies see themselves both with a grain of salt and at face value.
The Love Trumps Hate slogan presumes … that love – that of Trump lovers for themselves, for their ‘high-horse’, for the man they believed to be the ideal leader for the United States – did not play a role in Trump’s victory …
The loving, we-only-want-the-best-for-you crowd is also the same crowd responsible for history’s greatest hits such as: The Inquisition, Slavery, witch hunts and the establishment of family favorites like the KKK. Love is what many parents claim to be exemplifying when they abuse their children, have them kidnapped and sent to sketchy camps or forced to undergo gay conversion therapy.
Love does not by any means mean sane or compassionate. It results in controversial treatments like the 70-minute re-birthing therapy session that killed 10-year-old Candace Newmaker. I’m sure they didn’t mean to kill her or to be negligent. Their failure to listen to her, to acquiesce to the needs she expressed, because of their belief that they knew better than she where her limits and capacities lay, is what is most important. Their ego – their desire to prove their method correct by “fixing” her according to their machinations, by forcing her to follow their method to “success” – is what is important.
One mustn’t forget how self-centered (how blind, how crazy, how poetic!) love can be.
Love, in fact, can make you support an alleged (A/N: highly probable) pedophile in your desire to not only prove your worth as a forgiving Christian (when, of course, you’re betting on your personal net gain of increased political power in exchange for the moral sacrifice of having normalized predatory, misogynistic behavior *shrugs*).
So what is my beef with #LoveTrumpsHate?
The Love Trumps Hate slogan presumes (1) that there is an acceptance on the side of Trump voters and racists everywhere that they all collectively hate non-white folk; (2) that hate – a feeling – is all that comprises the plague of racism, which is much more about power and the ability to wield it without consequence (à la Brock Turner) and less about foaming-at-the-mouth anger towards an “other”; (3) that love – that of Trump lovers for themselves, for their ‘high-horse’, for the man they believed to be the ideal leader for the United States – did not play a role in Trump’s victory; and (4) a lack if direct harm experienced by those proclaiming that love alone can nullify the abuses they witness occurring to others from a distance.
Love played just as much in Trumps favor as my interpretation of my fever as comfort did to my being in the hospital at 3 A.M. last night.
That is, it spiraled immediately and violently out of control.
This is not a matter of love “Trump”ing hate because it was never about love or hate to begin with. It has always, always, always been about power (A/N: Say it again for those in the back!).
It has always, always, always been about power.
Let us make no mistake about our opponents (enemies presumes too much of that “good/bad” dynamic and honestly just gets in the way of good strategics). They are human beings just like we are. They feel love and hate just as we do. They get cold in the winter and hot in the summer just like we do. Sometimes their money is tight. Sometimes they get married and have families together. Apparently sometimes they also have four cats and a fondness for Twin Peaks, a fact that the New York Times was positive we all needed to know.
These qualities we share with them, these very human experiences, must not blind us to the transgressions done to us by our opponents. Rather, we should allow that understanding to lead us wisely into the battle of wills and violently conflicting ideologies that is most certainly coming our way. ♦