A yearful of Trump: A changed America and its new-found 'wokeness'

It's a significant day today, one that marks a year of the world surviving Trump

I was here in the US on 9/11. And the ominous day after. I was here, too, on November 8, 2016, the day 

of Donald Trump’s victory. And the day after.

I remember the post 9/11 chill. American flags everywhere, even in Seattle, a liberal bastion where I happened to live. An enormous flag had engulfed the house across from ours. Cars laden with double, quadruple flags rippling, like muscles. The country went into a foetal curl, crouching under an unseen banner of that very American crisis sentiment: my country right or wrong. And a crouch usually presages a pounce. Stepping into a restaurant with my brother one day we felt all eyes swivel on us. Brown folks had developed a scent overnight, like a freshly opened vein in shark-infested waters.

Post November 8, the Southern Poverty Law centre registered a rash of hate crimes nation-wide — 200, 250, 300 cases in the first day. The chief target: visibly Muslim brown people. So far so similar. But then something different happened. Within hours, tens of thousands had hit the streets across cities nation-wide. They cried, “Not my president!” But also, and with vigour: “No hate, no fear, immigrants are welcome here!” In Portland, where I was, there were pitched battles on Morrison Bridge between Trumpets and the anti-Fascist brigade. White people fighting each other, for people like me! Will I live to see such a clash on Howrah Bridge, between Savarna leftists and Sanghis, over Mohammad Akhlaq’s rights to his freezer?

America is, and has always been, a racist place. What mitigates America’s racism is the rule of law. The system can’t legislate what’s in the head but it by and large enforces behaviour. I say by and large. Systematic police brutality towards blacks is real, for example. But civil rights legislation — this is its 50th year — is equally real. Racism in America is not new. But the recent spill of white hate is certainly Trump-induced.

Trump is the symptom. If his election did anything fresh it was pulling a mirror on America. And a lot of America didn’t like what it saw. The response? A vigilant swathe in the media and strong courts, working overtime. And a groundswell of organised resistance. Not just the anti-Fa brand of violence, which is sexy and hence gets maximum play. But more deliberate and resilient resistance, working with the legislative and justice systems. Over 6,000 registered organisations in the first year of Trump have pulled in, like so many iron filings, those never before politically active: the small-town youth, the suburban mother, the quiet retiree. Every mad diktat from the White House has triggered a blizzard of mail to senators and congressmen, slowing and in many cases stopping it in its tracks. The Trump effect on America, as I see it, is the stiffening of a good kind of resolve.

All this warms the cockles of my cynical heart. I want to ask: where were you guys post 9/11, with daily arrests of innocents and ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union) the only line of defence? But that sounds, even to me, like whataboutery. I’ll take this new America, unhinged but “woke”.

As to how the streets feel, there are variations, to be sure. My view in the “sanctuary city” of San Francisco is different from my brother’s in the “Bible belt” of North Carolina. In the first week of November 2016, his colleagues — engineers all — had Obama countdown clocks as their desktop screen-savers. The first year has not dampened these Trump enthusiasts. 

I was still in India during the #NotInMyName candlelight vigils after Junaid Khan’s lynching. Half a year later and half the world away, as I walk past the mammoth churches of San Francisco bearing affectionate banners for immigrants and refugees, I am filled with daydreams. I conjure up an ACLU clone to fight for Pehlu Khan’s family. I unfurl a banner along the length of India Gate: “No hate, no fear!” in 22 languages. Above all, I quit silence.