Posted By Thomas Cassara on Nov 10, 2024 | 9 comments

By Tom Cassara ’23, Guest Columnist 

In 2016, my high school had a mock election ahead of the presidential election. The school’s administration had a voting booth brought in and placed in our schools’ main cafeteria. It represented a pretty solid exercise in civic preparedness. Over the course of several days, students could vote during school hours, reinforcing the notion that voting should be personal and private. As a social studies geek and vice president of my class, I eagerly took full advantage of the opportunity to vote for the first time, albeit imaginarily. I stood in that booth, away from prying eyes, and confidently cast my vote for Donald J. Trump. There was something intensely thrilling about that moment, when I could come out of the shadows and reveal my beliefs to the voting booth.

I loved President-elect Trump back then. If you asked my high school friends they’d tell you I was one of his most ardent supporters. I saw the merits of the Muslim travel ban. I defended the exclusion of transgender individuals from our military. I insisted that the southern border was a dangerous hellmouth threatening all of our lives. And perhaps worst of all, I defended his behavior like my life depended on it. The Access Hollywood tape? Locker room talk. His generally unprofessional, unpresidential demeanor? He tells it like it is, that’s why we like him. The countless rape accusations? Well obviously those women were all liars, gold diggers or paid actors. Perhaps worst of all, I may have even suggested they wanted it or wanted him. Everything could either be explained away, defended or embraced.

Beyond defending him I wanted to aid him. I wanted to help advance his “patriotic agenda,” by becoming a political pundit — a Ben Shapiro or a Tucker Carlson. After school I would watch YouTube videos with titles like “Shapiro shreds liberal snowflake” or “Ben Shapiro annihilates the Libs compilation” before heading downstairs to share dinner with my family as Tucker’s Fox segment played in the background. This was my way of life, and I loved it. My girlfriend at the time didn’t, neither did most of my friends, but they loved me and believed I could be better. I’m grateful they never gave up on me.

When I went off to College, I was determined to follow this “patriotic” path I had begun laying for myself. That fall semester of my first year I joined student government, took two political science courses, and occasionally wrote for The Gettysburgian. I insisted on becoming the edgy political science kid that “doesn’t choose sides” and “thinks freely.” I usually identified as being either “fiscally conservative but socially liberal” or as a Libertarian. While looking for other ways to engage with campus life I stumbled upon an immersion trip to the US-Mexico Border hosted by the Center for Public Service. I thought it would be a great opportunity to gather information about the border crisis and prove to everyone back home that I was right. However, the good Lord decided to humble me.

During my time at the US-Mexico border I met with all manner of legal experts, heard the stories of undocumented immigrants, met a Bush-appointed judge and several Customs and Border Protection agents. I was shocked to learn that not a single one of them said “We need the wall.” Every person was invested in the issue, and wanted to see the situation get better, yet no one wanted that wall. That really blew my hair back. How could I have been wrong?

The moment that really started my change in perspective, was when I sat through a deportation trial. Nothing I have ever experienced has felt that sterile and clinical. During the trial, a gentleman whom I would guess was in his mid-40s looked at me from the prisoner’s box. There was this hate in his eyes, burning like a coal engine. As I saw tears form on the edges of those two blazes I felt compelled to look away. So I looked down at my fancy blue polo and pink shorts. I looked at my brown leather shoes and belt. I looked at my hands which had never known consistent hard labor. I looked at my fair complexion, my skin having never been scorched by the sun from desperately trying to lead my family to safety. When I looked back up, he was still staring. Still angry. Still hurt.

I felt different after that, in a way I could not quite articulate. A month later, I attended the Conservative Political Action Conference, CPAC for short, in Washington DC. If the trip to the border removed the wool from my eyes, then CPAC was like staring in the mirror for the first time in a very, very long time. The entire affair was bizarre with speakers offering empty promises and political pundits being treated like celebrities. I remember one woman telling me she was “afraid of all of the Muslims coming into the country.” It was too much to process.

A few months later, when we all ended up stuck inside, I had a lot of time to think. As I sat in my room,  I started to grow up. Every day I woke up and would tease out different aspects of my previous beliefs and unlearn what I had been taught. Oftentimes, the process was not even fully conscious. The biggest thing that helped me change was having a community. Sure, I read articles and books that I had previously deemed “too woke,” but community was what saved me. Playing D&D with my friends and talking about what was going on in the world brought me out of my closed off mindset and kept me from falling down the same conspiracy theory rabbit holes that I lost so many people to. There was no epiphany, no grand change. It took work. It took people caring enough about me to make me realize that I had been wrong. My family and friends had to be humble, and had to accept my mistakes and meet me, not with closed fists and shouted condemnation, but with outstretched palms and forgiveness.

You need to understand something, over 72 million of our fellow countrymen voted for him. That is not a number of people we can simply write off. Many of those voters chose him not because they love him, or even like him, but because they are desperate for change. How could we have expected the average American to buy into more of the same? Prices are out of control, the Biden Administration has seen us get into two wars with no end in sight and AI and automation are threatening American’s jobs, particularly those of union workers. With so much uncertainty, many Americans chose the business man in the room. Whether or not Trump’s policies genuinely have the potential to change the current situation for the better, to many they appear to have that power. It is the appearance of strength that attracted so many Americans to him this year, in 2020 and in 2016.

During times of immense turmoil, it is often the image of a bulwark, rather than the actual existence of safety, which grants people hope. Something in his rhetoric appeals to people, it grants them that sense of safety. He calls for law and order and the building of walls, creating an image which asserts security and peace.

Yet he does not just represent the safety of walls. His brash attitude, his personal attacks, his disrespect for the rule of law, these represent his more aggressive aspects. In this way he is the fasces, the binding together of disparate parts into an ax powerful enough to break down the doors of the establishment. To force the powerful to hear the cries of the American people which have previously fallen on deaf ears. It is this aggressiveness, combined with the illusion of lawfulness, which draw in his supporters

Speaking from experience, having him as your idol is intoxicating, and it makes you willing to overlook a lot of really, truly awful things. So while it may not make sense to you why so many people chose him, even if they had to pinch their nose to do so, it does to me. Me, a socially awkward, acne-ridden, shorter than average high school boy. A boy who had been severely bullied from 1st to 6th grade, who then retreated into video games and comic books within the safety of his childhood bedroom. A boy who found confidence through student council and the influence my position brought. That is who he appealed to. He made that little boy feel safe and powerful. For the first time, though I would have shouted down anyone who suggested the thought, I got to be the bully. I got to be strong, and in the circle of trust, and smart enough to ignore anyone who disagreed with me. I was right, just like him.

I want my story to offer all of you hope. Hope that we can get our loved ones out of this cult of personality, out of this belief that power should come before humanity. I know many of you are hurting right now, and I know many of you are scared. I know that I am a white man telling you to stay strong and remain hopeful, so it probably feels as though I have no skin in the game. But I do. I have cousins, friends, and a girlfriend who all deserve the right to make their own decisions about their bodies. I have queer friends that deserve to be with the people they love and to raise children together if they so choose. I have trans friends who deserve to be able to exist in peace and to work with their doctors to become who they wish to be. Perhaps most painfully though,  I have family members who voted for Trump. Family who love him, and believe him to be the savior of America and the rest of the world. I have got to believe that they might be capable of salvation, because if not, then I don’t know where to draw my hope from.

The Democrats told us to hold the line, to bolster the Blue Wall. In the end there was no Blue Wall. And instead of pointing fingers at each other wondering why that idea didn’t materialize, we should instead be asking ourselves how we can build a real coalition, without relying on the one group most deserving of our ire right now, the leadership of the Democratic Party.

But forget the party for a second. Think about what you value and whom you want to share your dream of America with. That image is what you need to hold onto right now. We can no longer sit idly by and wait for our political masters to save us. Clearly, they will not. We must organize and tend to one another ourselves. We must continue to build the America we want to live in. Be compassionate, maintain community and create change. That is how we will build the America we want to see.