Trump Got Shot and the RNC is Coming to My House
The Republican National Convention kicks off tomorrow and as early as Saturday afternoon there were influxes of helicopters and military vehicles, road closures with extremely unintuitive alternate routes, entire sections of downtown inaccessible to anyone without a badge. When a city the likes of Milwaukee hosts a political party's convention, it's the whole-ass city. I mean, friends of mine live down the street from an old warehouse that's being rented out by RNC folks for a nightly rave...yeah. A trippy dance party full of Republicans deserves its own analysis, but they truly are permeating every fiber of our fair city.
And this was all before the whole, you know, assassination attempt thing, which I'm still trying to wrap my mind and my morality around. On the one hand, do I think the world would be a better place without Donald Trump in it? I do. Do I wish that 20 year-old kid would have splattered his brains onto hundreds of rally-goers? No, I don't think so.
I won't add to the mountain of speculation about the political implications of Trump's martyrdom (and being the subject of some of the hardest photos I've ever seen in my life), but surely they'll be significant. What I'm (selfishly) more concerned with is how and if I should navigate my city during what will now be an even tenser, more defiantly nationalistic week than before. I'm fortunate not to have to commute to work or to any other scheduled obligations, but I'd still like to...go outside? Grab a bite from the corner deli? It all sounds overly paranoid, I know, but someone just tried to shoot Trump in the head. No, I'm not going to actually sit inside and peer between the blinds of my windows, but Trumpers are frightening from scratch, when their messiah didn't just almost die on live television. I hope desperately that I'm wrong, but I wouldn't be surprised if violence breaks out this week, not between some lone-wolf assassin and a presidential candidate, but between his supporters and Milwaukee residents, provoked or not.
The place of privilege from which I'm making these complaints cannot be understated: I can stay home if I want. (Plus, let's be honest, put me in some pleated khakis and a pastel button-up and those Republicans would be none the wiser.) Other Milwaukeeans, most of whom are not white Christians, aren't so fortunate. They have to pass riled-up convention-goers on the streets, ride the bus with them, serve them beer and coffee. I can't imagine how difficult and scary that must be.
To my Milwaukee friends, be safe, and to everyone else, be glad you aren't here.
If anyone wants to infiltrate a Republican rave, let's talk...