It’s my, personal, opinion that everything we need to learn can be found in the pages of the works of Dr. Seuss.
My favorite story of his is that of the Star Bellied Sneetches. You see, there were these big yellow birds called Sneetches that, of course, lived on the beaches. Some of them had stars on their bellies but others did not. The ones with the stars strutted around on the beach all day proclaiming their superiority over those that had none.
Along came a man with a big machine and bigger promise. He could put a star on the bellies of the ones that had none for a few bucks. Well they, of course, the starless, lined right up and handed over their money, miraculously, popping out of the machine, starred.
This sent an uproar to the original star bellied clan and there was much dismay on the beach. It was no longer special to have a star. No problem, said the man with the machine. For just ten bucks, I can take those stars right off your bellies. Now, it would seem, having no star made you superior.
And so… they lined up.
After a while of going in and out of the machine, putting on and taking off stars, the lines became blurred. Was it better to have a star? Was it better to have none? Who was superior to whom? Where had they started in the first place?
This is America in the year 2016. We have all been going through the machine and the lines, thankfully, have been starting to blur, particularly for our children. Maybe the man with the machine was the hero of the story after all.
Who was better than whom? White, black, brown, male, female, gay, transgendered, Latino, European? We were beginning to be unsure. We had the first truly multicultural president. Not a black man, not white, multicultural. People of color had someone to look up to and a new-found pride. Gay rights expanded to include marriage equality. Women were starting see rises in pay that might bring them closer to equal to men’s pay scale. Even the Transgendered community was coming into the light and out of the shadows. We had a long way to go but our foot was on the rung of the ladder and we saw a way to climb. It didn’t matter who had a star on their belly or who did not.
We had started, just a tiny bit, to realize that no one is just one thing. Not even one gender as we all have testosterone and estrogen, male and female energy. We all have mixed blood and mixed ethnicity. We are all, as Harry Potter would tell you, Muggles.
He changed the game but not everyone was happy about it.
What about the original Star Bellied Sneetches? Some of them remembered a time when they were the kings of beaches. Some of them never gave up that star. How were they dealing with this confusion, this melding, mixing and blurring? They muttered quietly to themselves. They were, as my kid would say, butt hurt. They clung to their religious right attitude, railed against gay rights, women’s rights, pro-choice liberals, transgendered bathrooms and that “Black Guy” in the White House. Oh, the irony of that. They were losing power. Their belly stars were fading of their own accord. They needed a voice, a true, loud and righteous voice to take back what was rightfully theirs, what was lost.
Enter Donald J. Trump.
Trump saw a need and he filled that need. White people, particularly middle to upper class white males were angry. They saw their country as hijacked by that black guy and his family of smiling, happy, intelligent, women. How could this have happened? How is this man becoming beloved by the nation? What can we do to fix this?
And horror of horrors, that shrew, that hard hitting, pull no punches, loud, nasty woman, Hillary Clinton was winning in the primaries. She would be the democratic candidate. She must be stopped but what hero could they find to give them voice? The poor oppressed white guy who, suddenly realized he might have to come down a peg or two from his ivory tower of supremacy, was aching to speak out and have someone to let him do it.
And it began.
It started slowly, like a distant rumble but it gained in volume and it gained in intensity. White men, and the women that needed them for the life and the paycheck they provided, could say the words they’d been itching, nay dying, to say out loud, at rallies, in the public eye, on Facebook and Twitter. Not just the fringe people who always say things that would shock and appall most reasonable people, but doctors, lawyers, business owners. And not just things to be said at dinner parties, country clubs, red neck bars and backyard barbeques but OUT LOUD, on TV and aired on CNN and FOX News. They were allowed and they had a hero. They weren’t being pushed into the lockers by the school bully. No, they were walking the hallways proudly behind him and doing the pushing.
Our neighbors, associates and even some of our friends were using words like…
Nigger
Spic
Dyke
Fag
Rag Head, Dot Head, Terrorist
It became okay to push and shove people at rallies. To have 10 -year old’s yelling “lock her up” and “Kill her” about a former Secretary of State.
It became cool to wear offensive tee shirts and to post things on Facebook about repealing women’s and black’s voting rights, to make fun of disabled people, families that have lost sons in a war or men who got captured while defending our country.
This new type of humor became acceptable. Anything Donald said or did, no matter how horrible, racist or downright cruel was fine. Shit, it was funny. He’s just keeping it real, speaking his mind, not pulling punches. His three wives, the cheating, the foundation that seemed to give money to anything but charity, rape cases involving 13-year old girls, bankruptcy and a failed and suspect “University”, all good.
So long as:
They could keep their guns
They could stop the fags, niggers, spics, dot heads and women, (yes, even the women want to see women remain subservient) from becoming equals, from having stars upon thars.
Build that wall. Mexico will pay for it.
Except they won’t.
Then the tape came out with Donald saying awful things about women and what he would do and had done to them because he was rich and famous. The world shuddered. “This is unacceptable”! As if all the other heinous things he had said were hunky dory but this was the line in the sand.
People speculated. I did too. I thought the whole thing was a set up so Pence could run instead. But we were all wrong. You see, it didn’t matter because the “Star Bellied Sneetches” just want their beaches back. They don’t care how they get it. They don’t care if they go against everything their religious right doctrines say. So what if he’s a divorcee who cheated on his former wives? Who cares if he lies about almost everything and makes fun of the less fortunate. What’s wrong with making money be your God?
What Golden idol?
They were winning. He was putting an end to all that “political correctness” crap. He was making “locker room talk” okay even if that means that we are justifying sexual abuse and assault and even women were defending his right.
“Boys will be boys”, one wealthy white woman told me.
But this wasn’t just about money. Getting to keep their money was great but it was a bonus. This was about belly stars.
The stars on their bellies feel brighter and bigger than ever and they can see the holy grail, the glistening beach where those that have “none upon thars” will do their bidding again.
“Boy, get me another gin and tonic, will you?”
“Hey, Blackie, my shoes need shining. Get going on that or I’ll tan your hide!”
“Pedro, here’s five bucks. Mow my lawn or I’ll turn your ass into immigration”
“Little missy, get over here and service your master, right now and no sobbing while you do it.”
“CAN’T YOU SEE THIS FUCKING STAR?”