Why I’m Not a Snowflake Anymore
The majority of people I interact with are Never Trumpers, Hate Trumpers, Resist Trumpers or those suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome. The rage and hysteria toward President Donald Trump and those that support him are unprecedented. While liberals claim they are tolerant, they can’t tolerate an opposing point of view. In tears, I’ve been browbeaten, bullied, and harassed because I support Trump. Their negativity and nastiness only makes me more determined to wear my “Make America Great Again” cap.
African-Americans having a different opinion brings out the worst in white liberals. I lived in the Deep South, but I had never experienced the hate and vitriol I’ve encountered from white liberals and black progressives in Washington, D.C. Here, I’ve been called a nut and a coon. Although shocked that these loving progressives could be so cruel, I will not let them discourage me.
I feel sad about what losing has done to Democrats. I relate because I was one of them once: a whiny, sensitive snowflake. I lived in “safe spaces” and was easily triggered. I blamed others and made excuses. Then I realized nobody owes you a damn thing! Doing what’s right guaranteed you nothing but a clear conscience. Maybe you’ll be blessed, maybe you’ll suffer a setback. Welcome to reality.
I don’t need white liberals who live in the confines of Capitol Hill, Georgetown, or Dupont Circle telling me about racism. I know racism: I was born in Ohio, right in the heart of coal country. I grew up in an all-white suburb in New Jersey. I lived among people that flew Confederate flags on their rafters. No one made this an issue until white liberals started angering people that knew nothing about American history or the Civil War. The Confederate flag is a distraction to deflect the fact that white liberals have done nothing to improve the lives of minorities that continue to support them.
Sure, my ancestors were enslaved, but I don’t have time for living in the past and getting angry about past wrongs and injustices. I love my ancestors just as much as you love yours – but they’re dead! I’m not African any more than white people are German, Scottish or British. I was born in America, and it’s insulting to be called anything other than an American citizen. I can’t do anything for my enslaved ancestors, but I can expand the blessings of democracy to future generations.
Jeffery McNeil is a frequent contributor to Street Sense.