A Shit Day and the Power of Words: Why I'm Angry Enough About Trump to March Against Him

     On Thursday morning I woke up very tired. I'd estimate I got a solid 90 minutes’ sleep, but even then the light had been left on, so that I wouldn't slip into a deep enough sleep to miss my alarm. I had panicked the night before about having not read enough for my seminars the following day, and it seemed the more I read the more there was to read. I was agitated further realizing that I wouldn't be able to go to a women’s march with my friend at the weekend because I was working. I woke up tired, cold and ready for a shit day. I went to my lectures and seminars and grew more frustrated. It was just words about words. I'd spent hours reading to try and feel I could speak confidently about the books and poets we were discussing, to find myself sitting in terrified silence listening to people reference ideas and writers I had no clue about. The lecturers’ observations were so abstract and removed I wanted to scream. It was all so pretentious and quiet and separate to reality; we weren't doing anything to help, to change, to act.

     The ending to my university day was two hours of talking about Shakespeare which seemed like it would just exasperate me further, but when I got there I remembered why I love my degree. Richard III is a play all about the power of manipulation and the power of language. If used in the right way, words can create action. At its simplest: the sign says “push door” and then you push it. If used more cleverly, words become action in a different way, subtle and silent, where you can’t point at or identify the exact moment this happens. An admission of an uncommon thought might validate it in someone else’s mind. An offhand remark about a personality trait could convince someone to hate and abandon it. A joke about rape convinces an unknown victim that’s all it is, and she is then robbed of the courage to take action in the criminal justice system. In Richard III there is a scene where Richard ‘seduces’ Anne, who starts off repulsed by him, and by the end of the exchange is flirting. This scene is sickening to read, because Richard’s incredible use of language effectively robs her of her ability to object. It feels as though you’re witnessing an assault. The use of language to belittle, to ignore, and to silence women is something that occurs both intentionally and ignorantly every day.

     Trump doesn’t use language effectively, and reading a transcript of any of his interviews makes you baffled as to how he is qualified to speak without a translator, let alone how he’s qualified to be in charge of the nuanced negotiations required as president. And somehow, this works for him? His statements are so unclear and general and ungraspable that it allows so much room for him to maneuver. Some will be upset by something he has said and others will shoot back “but that’s not what he really means”. His misuse of language works with his lack of specific policy to muddy the crux of what he’s saying and allow people to hear what they want to hear. They will chant the big ticket lines of “Make America Great Again” with determined fervor, and shrug off the “I’d marry my daughter”s with a chuckle and an eye roll. 

     We are the words we say and we need to hold people, including ourselves, accountable for them. It is so important to make people culpable for what they are saying in a time where speech, policy and news are so muddy, unclear and chaotic. I’ve often had days where I’ve thought if someone I didn’t know watched some of my individual actions or listened to select conversations, they would get a completely different idea of me compared to who I believe I am. I am constantly trying to remind myself that words and the smallest of your actions make up who you are. You are not excused for unkind remarks and aggressive behaviours simply because your karma balances out overall. Likewise, you should not excuse others for their selfish actions and unthinking words simply because you are sure that they are a good person overall.

     Everyone is nice when they need to be, everyone helps when an old lady falls over in the supermarket, everyone chips in to the fund for sick kids, even Scrooge is made charitable by a cold night and a dream about three ghosts. In the worst situations, the best of humanity is evident in everyone. But it’s in the everyday conduct of each of us that the shape of history lies. Don’t choose the loud laugh you’ll get from the risky joke over the potential that someone in that room will be wounded by it. Don’t throw words out without considering the weight of them, even if they’re good ones. Language is powerful, and although (ever the optimist) I hope that Trump will turn out to be a thoughtful and considerate leader, I’m marching tomorrow ahead of his actions as president because his words have already done damage. I’m marching against his ability to squirm out of responsibility for horrifying yet vague statements, his throwaway remarks encouraging assassination, his attempts to drown his political opponent’s eloquent answers with loud and aggressive rhetoric, his power privileged ‘grab em by the pussy’ comment that unpertrubably causes 19 year old boys to feel validated in doing the same. That statement encourages and allows sexual assault and, heartbreakingly, has been followed this week by his blueprint plan to defund the Violence Against Women grants. Slowly, piece by piece, joke by joke, sentences that ‘he didn’t mean like that’ filter into policy that shows he certainly fucking did. No, Trump’s decisions in presidency may not affect my life directly, but his words do, and that’s why I’m mad.

Ps. When I was about 9 there was an incident in school that lead to the introduction of a rule that girls weren't allowed to play football any more. Me and my friend went home angry and made signs that said "Girls should play football" and stood in the playground and chanted the same words. The signs were taken off us and an assembly was held about the supposed disorder we had created and I felt very scared to be getting into trouble. I wish I could go back to that day and stand behind tiny me and chant with her, and ask the teachers why they weren't encouraging kids who questioned the unfair imposition of sexist rules.

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