America, Land of Greatness

“Did you see what she was wearing?”

“Seriously inappropriate. I mean, Tiffany said she would try to help her, but obviously she didn’t heed her advice…”

“Excuse me?”

Both of the women turned coolly to the man who interrupted their dance of gossip that never held any fruitful accomplishments of any sort.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ladies, but are you here for the speech on the South Lawn? I was wondering if I could get a quote from you. I’m doing an op-ed on the last night of the RNC and wanted to interview the attendees.”

A tight smile ran across the blonde, who laid an assertive hand over her purse as she pushed her chest out in a dominant stance, and made a quick glance of eye contact to the submissive brunette to her right.

“And which outlet are you from?”

“I’m an independent journalist. I don’t have alliances to any media outlets.”

“I see. May I ask who you will be voting for this election?”

Her eyes slowly surveyed me as I pushed both hands deep into my pockets and tried to steady my breath.

“I prefer to not mix politics with my work to remain professional.”

“Well, you picked the wrong place to be, I’m afraid. No comment.”

She signaled for her friend to turn around, and with both of their backs to me, they moved a few feet forward to make their distance between us marked.

I opted out of sitting in one of the lawn chairs that were set up for the speech as people started trickling in for the President’s big moment (or one of them) when he would accept his nomination, pulling my mask tighter around my nose instinctively, as most of the onlookers crowded in together as if social distancing were a thing from the past. A stark cry from the protests from the Black Lives Matter rally (most were wearing masks) in the plaza across from the White House, where participants were creating as much noise as possible to drown out all the speakers. They were successfully a distraction before the speakers, making it hard for people to have conversations over the speakers blaring “Fuck Trump!” and “Get Pence/Trump OUT!”.

When does ignorance become distasteful? I guess the question I should be asking is if it was ever tasteful to begin with. The jarring polarization of the sides of the White House were tearing at each other as metaphors were becoming reality. Bernie Sanders’ searing quote comparing Nero fiddling while Rome burned to Trump tweeting was also hitting close to home with wildfires in California raging as Mother Nature was continuing her screams for attention. I stared at the giant “Make America Great Again” sign, having realized that dystopian realities were no longer far-fetched science fiction novels for quite some time now, and closed my eyes before taking a deep breath. It was hard to tell what was real or not anymore, and keeping myself centered was becoming a challenge.

“Oh, excuse me! I am so sorry about that.”

My train of thought was interrupted as I opened my eyes to see someone had spilled some of his bottled water on me.

“I apologize, I was taking out my bottle of water to drink from it and someone came whizzing by and caught my arm. Let me see if I have something to dry you off with –”

“No, no, it’s fine, really,” I said as I wiped off my arm with my hand.

“I’m Ed. I’d like to formally apologize,” Ed said, extending his hand.

Hesitating, I took it and shook a little firmer than I meant to.

“Say, we don’t have many of you over here. I thought you got mixed up on where to go for a second,” he said as I looked down at our hands.

His white skin creating a matte canvas for his dark, burly hairs that curled in a trail up his forearm prominently, while my darker palette complemented my hair as most outfits do, our fingers cupping one another for one more moment before I pulled away swiftly and stared Ed straight in the eyes.

I instinctively for my hand sanitizer, noticing that Ed just watched as he gave a little chuckle. He shook his mask free head when I offered him some.

“All in good fun, lad! I’m glad to see that we have African American people that support our government and understand what this nation really stands for. Anyone can see the equality this administration offers. It’s refreshing we have patriots like you here to represent our America.”

“I’m not here to represent a party. I’m an independent journalist. A Black independent journalist.”

Ed took a second and nodded his head.

“I see, I see. Well, it’s important all viewpoints are represented. Don’t suppose you would be interested in mine, would ya?”

He took a step closer and tilted his head to the side with a smirk, awaiting my answer, which he did not receive.

“Most journalists these days don’t want to talk about God. Well, let me tell you something about God. He graces those who help themselves and others. That’s what Trump does. He wants to keep the peace around here and get things back to normal. God entrusted him to get us through this crisis to see to it things are returned the way they were.”

“You think things were just fine before, huh?”

A siren blared from the protests and Ed waited for it to stop before answering.

“Boy, you are on the right side of history. We need more people like you to share the greatness we can offer, especially with your platform. We can help put an end to these protests and get to work on making this a real land of opportunity.”

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, still not sure if the words I was hearing were real life or if it was something I would write if I were delving into a short fiction piece as satire.

“You think Trump offers a land of opportunity?”

“Absolutely, son. First, before opportunity, Trump makes sure there is safety. That is the key to providing opportunity to everyone. Your mother got it right when you were young, safety first!” Ed said while busting out with laughter simultaneously.

“That’s the key to being strong, is it?”

“Why, that’s what the American dream really represents. A safe, strong foundation that values every life within the infrastructure,” Ed beamed.

“You mean, every life that fits into your equation, right?”

“Well, an equation that has a place for all of us, son! That’s the beauty of it.”

“Well, that’s the problem with certain equations. What I see here is an equation coming to life. There are the greater-than and less-than signs, you know that Pac Man one with two lines at an acute angle, that is the mathematical symbol that denotes an inequality between two values. It seems instead of lessening the inequality to works towards an equal sign, that in fact, the numbers are getting larger on each side, creating a wider divide, an equation that isn’t designed to meet in the middle. It’s hard to feel safe with that large of a ravine, wouldn’t you say?”

“Look, I’m not here to argue. I’m just here to say my piece and welcome you here. We need diverse faces to keep us grounded, surely you would agree with that,” Ed said with a chuckle.

“You need my face? Just like my ancestors were needed for their bodies to help build the America that your leader is trying to perpetuate. I am not a husk to be used for your needs, whatever they may be. Every time I hear you call me 'boy', I need to refrain myself from screaming out that I am nobody’s boy but my father’s.”

My hands were shaking and as I went to close my eyes again for a deep breath, I decided to open them wide instead. Maybe it was time I realized that it wasn’t me that was off balance and needed to be centered, but the world that surrounded me.

“I thought you weren’t attached to any party affiliation. You one of those infiltrators that come in pretending to be a journalist and whatnot just to spread lies? I should have known from your mask.”

“You don’t need a party affiliation to see that I matter.”

I turned around and made my way to the exit, welcoming the loud screams and blaring horns from the protests.

As I made my way to the rally, I was sure of one thing.

My face was needed, but the rest of me sure wasn’t welcome there.