Charlotte Clymer  🏳️‍🌈Verified account

The van looked like it was late-80s and beat to hell. Needed a wash. It was one of those heaps of junk that looks like it's a few breaths away from leaping into a compactor. It just wasn't cared for. Grody in spirit. A woman looked at me from the open passenger window. MAGA hat.

I couldn't see the driver, but I saw her, the passenger. She had thick glasses and gray, stringy hair, and, of course, the hat. And she was staring directly at me with a smirk. There wasn't anyone around us, and this van was maybe 20 ft. away. Staring straight at me.

She was staring with such intentionality. She wanted me, specifically, to see her in the MAGA hat. You might ask how I know that, and I don't know how to explain it. I just do. She had this barely-restrained smirk, perhaps a warm sneer-of-sorts. All but leaned her head out.

It doesn't take much imagination to wonder why I became the focus of her attention. Being a trans woman and looking fabulous like I do, I automatically was placed in some kind of "sworn enemy" category. She stared with that poisonous smirk and 15 seconds later, they drove off.

What I hated most about the interaction wasn't the palpable sense that this person wanted me to feel uncomfortable. It was the pain drenching the air in and around this van, the weariness of the vehicle and the person, the miles on both. Pain, even in its quiet, loud as anything.

It was pain familiar to me. White trash pain. She didn't know that, of course. She didn't know that I was raised in trailer parks in Central Texas, from a long line of white trash on both sides. She didn't know about my family's alcoholism, abuse, racism, etc. None of that.

She just saw the caricature. A trans woman looking fabulous in D.C. and therefore, some kind of East Coast liberal communist elitist blah blah, buzzword multiplied by buzzword, Fox News highlight reel. She saw only what she wanted to see to validate her sneering hatred.

I was amazed at how quickly she reduced me to that, within seconds, and equally amazed at how quickly I perceived her doing it, the kind of summing up that only comes with recognizing a lived experience like your own. I saw the way pain led her social arithmetic. Instantly.

It couldn't have been more than 15 seconds we stared at each other. It was so quick, and yet, so much passed between us. Nothing good, only venom. And I was pissed at myself as they drove away for moving quickly from anger to empathy. I felt bad for her. Really bad.

I don't know how to articulate that kind of desperation, but it's awful. Pain so thick that it settles deep in your pores like nicotine in lifelong smokers. It becomes a language. That brief moment took me back to childhood, when it seemed like every adult was lost in pain.

I felt a twinge of guilt for having a view of both sides of the curtain. I knew her story far, far better than she knew mine, and that somehow felt unfair. This woman in her 50s/60s lost in delusion, so numbed to pain that all else is watered down by it.

You might think the punchline here is that I tell you to be kinder, sweeter, gentler to MAGA folks. Because I'm from there and recognize that pain and it should be negotiated with love. Nope. The point here isn't a lesson in empathy. It's a warning on what hate does to you.

Imagine being so hateful--making lifelong choices led by that hate--that you vote against your own interests just to spite those you hate. So consumed with hatred that even those you hate feel sorry for you.

The truth is that I am not an anomaly. There are countless folks raised in conservative environments like this, fleshed out in white poverty, that consciously chose to do the right thing and reject hatred. You don't hear our stories because they're not neat or easy.

Our stories are full of introspection and making mistakes and evolving as people and challenging ourselves to be better even in moments when we screw up. It takes work. It takes commitment and responsibility. It takes recognizing personal privilege despite our obstacles.

It's so much easier to view MAGA voters as static white people who have been wronged and left behind by a changing world and demand politicians cater to them. The burden is placed on the responsible. And the vile hatred of MAGA folks is declared "fear" to be negotiated.

And so, their perpetual fear somehow becomes our collective burden, weighing especially heavy on people of color, women, LGBTQ folks, religious minorities, etc. We somehow pay the price because of their laziness and toxicity.

This woman capped w/ MAGA had her head so far up her ass that she needed me, a perfect stranger, to feel uncomfortable because my identity is a perceived threat to her. She knew nothing about me but quickly assumed everything for her moment of hateful catharsis.

Here's what I'm saying: yeah, these are people in pain, but they're also adults who make choices to be hateful and refuse to grow. You don't owe them anything in the way of empathy. I frankly could not give a damn about their input on issues, nor should you.

That doesn't mean they get left behind in healthcare, wages, etc. But it does mean that the constant national profiles and focus groups and cable news panels are ridiculous. They're not changing their minds en masse. They are very happy being fluent in their own hateful pain.

Stop asking racist white people why they're racist. If you're a journalist, spend more time asking people of color what racism does to them. Better yet, hire academics and journalists of color for your outlets who can offer this perspective in reporting.