What an angry
week this has been.
Americans, Brits and pretty much people all over the world
shouting at each other about the Inauguration of the 45th President
of the United States, Donald J Trump.
I followed the build-up to the
campaign with enormous interest. It was eight years ago that I decided to come
to the USA when Barack Obama was elected President. I felt enormously proud to
be living in a world in which a black man could, and had, reached such high
office. I sat in from of my TV crying tears of joy.
This year, on the night that
Hillary Clinton conceded defeat to Trump, I cried tears of despair. Racism, sexism,
the language of intolerance, anger and hatred that would not have seemed out of
place at a Nuremberg rally – I was not alone in thinking that we are living in
dangerous times. The fact that Trump’s ongoing message is shrouded in what many
believe to be the language of safety, caring and sharing makes it all the more
frightening.
Who are these voters that can be so hoodwinked by empty rhetoric
and cheap sound bites? Well, they are the same people who turned up yesterday
to hear and cheer more of the same. True, there were (refreshingly) huge empty
spaces on the streets and in the stands from which people watched the Inaugural
Parade, and Trump comes in with the lowest approval rating of any President in
modern times. He also lost the popular vote in the election by over three
million votes.
But he has the gig and we must
live with it. We can protest and shout and make sure that the voices of the people
for whom he does not speak (in Vice President Mike Pence’s case, vociferously speaks
against) are heard, over and over.
Whatever your politics, the
bullying, both online and personally, is something that depresses me hugely. It
happened with Brexit and is happening all over again with Trump. Yesterday, I
posted a comment about enjoying the Inauguration on CNN. I also commented on
the quality of the speakers.
You’d think I had suggested joining ISIS, so
aggressive were some of the comments in response. In fairness, some were calmer
and stating facts, but everyone missed the key thing: CNN. I was not saying I
enjoyed the Inauguration per se
(although I was hugely impressed by the military parade); I specifically
referred to CNN. I am a TV critic; watching TV and writing and talking about it
is what I do. I looked at all the stations and decided against Fox, which elevates
my blood pressure to life-threatening levels, and I rejected Sky on the
strength of Kay Burley’s puffa jacket. The BBC blew it when a black woman emerging from inside was described as "Not Michelle Obama."
CNN is always my first choice for
news in the USA, and the award-winning Anderson Cooper is one of many jewels in
an already glittering crown. Trump has been attacking the station of late and,
yesterday, went out of his way to praise Fox News (no surprises there).
My enjoyment of CNN was ignored
completely on Facebook. Maybe the very mention of the word Inauguration was
enough to induce temporary blindness in people reading. Quite why anyone would
think my talking about TV coverage means that I endorse Trump is anybody’s
guess. If people had bothered to read my comments and articles over the past 18
months, they would have seen that I have done nothing but give my support to
Hillary.
There was another kind of
bullying, too. One person criticised my choice to live in the USA and wailed “I
don’t know what you’re looking for.” I don’t have to defend my choices to
anyone, but I want to point out (1) I am not “looking” for anything. I found
everything I could ever want when I could first hold a pen and knew, without
any shadow of doubt, that I was a writer. Not wanted to be one; it’s what I was
(2) I love experiencing life on a daily basis, rather than saving up all year
for a two-week holiday in Ibiza in August (3) It’s nobody’s goddamned business.
I have lived in England, Wales,
France, Spain and, now, the USA. I love to travel, meeting new people and
exploring new cultures. It’s something I didn’t get to do when I was younger as
I spent many years studying and then working my way up the media ladder during
many difficult years in London. When I hit my mid-forties (I am now 58), I
found that the UK is not kind to older women. The TV presenting jobs dry up,
one becomes a social leper if there is not a partner in tow, and any lifestyle
that differs from the norm is considered suspicious.
In the States, I have found that
being older is no deterrent to living life just as enjoyably as I did when I
was in my prime (by British standards) in the UK. Paris, too, is kinder to
older people, and I loved the six years I spent there. Spain looks after its
elderly in the most beautiful complexes and has excellent health care. But in
the UK, I started to feel that people were resenting me even for being alive. I
don’t mean my family and close friends, of course, but I was tired of being
asked whether I was married, had kids, or was “courting” (as they continue to
say in Wales).
I truly am tired of the attacking
nature of many people on social media; it’s why I sometimes take the decision
to come off it. I’m glad I don’t have children, but I am extremely close to
many of my friends’. If that’s what you enjoy, great. None Of My Business. I
have friends who live all over the world. One moved to Thailand because she
loves the lifestyle and the scenery. Personally, I would never live in a place
that exploits and trafficks both children and adults for sex. But again, None
Of My Business. And as for my lifestyle choices, here’s the thing: None of Your
Business.
I am all for sharing ideas and
enjoying discourse on social media, even with (especially with, often), people
who hold different opinions from my own; I like to learn and see life from
different perspectives.
But please, try to stay nice – and, most important,
read what people have actually written before taking up your swords and
hollering your war cries.
Yesterday, the world as we know it changed. As yet,
we really don’t know what that will mean long term.
And now, I’m going back to
watching CNN.
Live with it, people.
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