A while back I learned that someone I know well who is a confirmed uber-liberal voted for Trump. And was happy he won.
It took a while to wrap my head around that. That is, after I settled that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one I get whenever I realize just how much trouble some men have with strong women.
Like Nancy Pelosi. Like Kamala Harris.
Not that I’m comparing myself in any way to these strong, accomplished women. But I am known as a strong woman with an inability to simper. Like them. No simpering there, either.
Misogyny is the most painful thing i’ve ever experienced. I can’t even imagine what POC feel when faced with racism. Because if it’s worse than how I feel, and I believe it is, and certainly more frequent, it’s one hell of a way to live.
Now, this voter who cast his vote for Trump would NEVER vote against a POC. That would offend his uber liberal/Bernie Sanders sensibilities.
But it was easy to vote for a madman because it was a vote against a strong woman.
That sick feeling again.
I know misogyny up close and personal. I worked in Silicon Valley, a hotbed of sexism and misogyny. I saw those twins at work every day. I saw them aimed at me. I saw the double standard that meant male executives had one set of performance criteria that included license to be abusive. Women were rated by an entirely different standard. One in which a certain amount of deference, softness and gentility were expected.
Oh, the pit of my stomach is churning now at the very thought of it.
It’s not that I care what this voter does, except for what it says about him. What it says about my relationship with him. And what it says about how weak that person really is. And not very smart. Even though he’s really intelligent. Just not very discerning. Or smart.
Now, perhaps that person is not so happy about Trump now, I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure he’s built an entire rationale around why Hillary would’ve been worse. That’s the way these people work.
Of course we know she would not have been worse. She would have been better. She is competent. She is qualified. She is intelligent.
She is sane.
I can not look at that person the same way ever again. I can’t.
Maybe he was always this way and I didn’t see it.
But my stomach is roiling now, with anger and with frustration.
How far are we really from the veil and burka? I wonder.
Not that far at all, I’m afraid.
Not that far at all.