The title of this post is the title of Frank Bruni’s
post in today’s New York Times. One
of the reasons I like it is because he puts into words a feeling I haven’t been
able to name. Bruni talks about inspirational and empathetic speeches given by
past presidents during threats to the country.
In Trump’s predecessors, for all their imperfections, I could sense the beat of a heart and see the glimmer of a soul. In him I can’t, and that fills me with a sorrow and a rage that I quite frankly don’t know what to do with.
But what has taken me by surprise and torn me up inside are the aloofness, arrogance, pettiness, meanness, narcissism and solipsism that persist in Trump — that flourish in him — even during a once-in-a-lifetime emergency that demands something nobler. Under normal circumstances, these traits are galling. Under the current ones, they’re gutting.
Anger, rage, whatever you want to call it, has been an
inadequate way for me to deal with my feelings about Trump. There is, as Bruni says, sorrow. Anger can feel satisfying, but I’ve
read more than once that, often, under our anger is grief or sorrow. It’s hard to admit
that a showoff like Trump elicits sorrow, that he can break your heart. I’m embarrassed
to say it. But for me it’s true, and it’s good to recognize it.
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