And I admit that I’m afraid…
He kisses me goodbye and I look up and see that bright-red hat on his head. One of a pair that arrived in the mail last week, the other currently stashed away. A gift from him partly made in jest because we’ve been on this journey together the last two years and he’s already decided how he’s voting in 2020. I haven’t, so mine lives tucked away like the gag gift it is, for now…
Regardless of how I ultimately vote in 2020, I realize I don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough to wear this hat in public the way he clearly plans to. He laughs at my fears when I tell him to be careful, kisses me again and smiles. As he leaves the glint in his eyes tells me he dares anyone to try and knock this hat off his head.
I’m struck by how strong he continues to be despite so much stacked against him, both as a new Trump supporter and a man living with autism. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there even though I also know these feelings play right into the hands that I’ve decided to #WalkAway from.
But I think about what happened to Elijah Schaffer and Joy Villa in Hollywood this past Friday night at Trump’s destroyed Walk of Fame star:
I remember earlier this year when a woman in Washington, DC was viciously attacked for speaking up in defense of Trump. I think about what’s happened more recently to teenagers Ashton Hess and Hunter Richard and I’m selfishly scared for his own safety and struck by how brave my partner is.
And suddenly it strikes me as very sad that we’ve come to this: where sporting a red cap embroidered with four little words is now considered either an act of courage or an excuse to incite violence.