I recently returned from visiting friends in Asheville, North Carolina. On my journey home to the third world metropolis that is New York City, I decided to wear my “Trump 2016” tee shirt. The result was fascinating — and leads me to issue a challenge to all my readers.
As soon as my friends dropped me off in front of the tiny Asheville airport (and I mean within seconds), a white, middle-aged policeman came directly toward me, staring me straight in the eye with a very serious expression. “Oh God, here it comes. I knew this was a mistake,” I thought to myself. “I like that shirt,” the man said with a pleasant southern twang, then moved swiftly away.
Inside the terminal I was surprised to find that virtually the entire TSA staff were also white and middle-aged and male. The man at the little stand who checked my driver’s license and boarding pass smiled at my shirt. “Nice shirt you’ve got there,” said the man who herded me through the body scanner. But the pièce de résistance was the guy scooting my bags down the conveyor belt, who insisted on giving me a fist bump.
With an hour to kill before my flight, I had a beer and some fish and chips in the airport’s only restaurant. No one seemed to notice the shirt. On leaving the restaurant, however, I was approached by one of the TSA guys, who neglected his duties for about ten minutes telling me how much he liked Trump, and hated Hillary. “You’re taking your life into your hands wearing that shirt around here,” the man said. He meant in liberal Asheville, which is sort of the Portland of the south.
One thing that was clear from the reactions I got was that all these men admired and respected me for wearing the shirt. And this is almost certainly because they would not have done the same thing themselves. Though they expressed approval, they did so almost sotto voce. The guy who fist bumped me kind of looked around first. And, as I’ve mentioned, the policeman who greeted me at the curb darted away as soon as he’d spoken to me.
I put on the shirt, I suppose, with the intention of shocking people. Once I got to the airport, however, I realized I was actually performing an important service. Now that these Trump supporters have seen someone else wearing Trumpwear, they are more likely to do it themselves. I have emboldened them. And I felt very good about this. Wearing the shirt also forced me to come out of my shell and interact with people. I’m such an introvert and loner I often don’t look cashiers and others in the eye when they greet me or thank me, and I usually mumble out a response, if at all. But wearing the shirt made me a roving Trump supporter: Trump’s man in Asheville, albeit briefly. I had to be friendly. I had to smile. I had to converse.
There are no direct flights from Asheville to New York, so I had to change planes in Charlotte. There I approached an American Airlines ticket agent — another white guy — and asked him for the gate number of my connecting flight. “Charlie Twelve,” he answered brightly, then followed it up with “Man, I’m digging that shirt. I’ve got the hat!” He glanced furtively at his black female co-worker, as I thanked him and set out on the three mile hike to C-12.
I got a few strange looks, but no one was hostile. No one stopped me to tell me how much he hated Trump. Probably the most uncomfortable moment came when I had to catch a cab at Kennedy Airport in New York. My driver was Indian or Pakistani or something. His eyes practically popped out of his head when he saw the shirt. But I wouldn’t describe his look as hateful. Actually, what I sensed was fear.
Gavin McInnes has written a piece for Takimag about wearing his Trump shirt in New York, and it is well-worth reading. He writes: “I thought I’d get sneers, but what I got — almost without exception — was capitulation. When people looked at me, I’d happily return their gaze and they’d inevitably face the ground. They didn’t look disappointed. They looked cowed.”
I would like to issue a challenge to all my readers: buy a Trump shirt or hat or both and wear it out in public, as often as possible.
As has become obvious to all of my readers, there is now an all-out, no holds barred campaign being waged to destroy Donald Trump, and it comes from the Left and what claims to be the Right. The media has abandoned even the barest pretense of objectivity, and honesty. Trump’s words are being deliberately and willfully twisted. Polls are being rigged. And the cuckservatives are, even at this late date, calling for Trump to be dumped. Never before have politicians revealed so nakedly their complete contempt for their own constituents. Each day brings a new attack on Trump, some of them pure fabrications (as in the case of the baby allegedly ejected by Trump from a rally — the mother denies it; the baby could not be reached for comment).
The point of all of this is NOT really to try and drum up support for Hillary. It is to demoralize those who support Trump. Ask a Trump supporter who they think will win the election, and I guarantee you that most will say Hillary. My adventures in aviation have confirmed what I have long suspected: there are a whole lot of people out there who support Trump, but who are keeping it under wraps. Right now, these people feel beaten down. But I made their day. I showed them there are others like themselves, who — unlike them — are willing to openly declare their support for Trump. If more of us do this, then more of us will do this. And more. I would go so far as to say that those of us who support Trump have an obligation to be open about our views. We need to give each other strength. We need to show others that the onslaught against Trump is having the effect opposite of the one intended.
Of course, we must be prudent. The other day, an elderly New Jersey man wearing a Trump shirt was beaten by a man described only as “a man.” The description of the attacker was said to be “vague.” Apparently, the assailant harangued his victim for some time before attacking him. Perhaps the victim didn’t notice his race. (No mention as to whether he is blind.)
My advice to you is not to wear the shirt/hat to the ghetto. I live in an area that is heavily populated by Hispanics (including lots of illegals) and blacks. I will not parade around the hood in Trumpwear. Not only would I be putting my life at risk, it would be pointless: my neighbors are not going to be converted to Trump.
Where should you buy your Trumpwear, in order to take the challenge? Naturally, at shop.donaldjtrump.com. That way your purchase is actually a donation to the Trump campaign. Unfortunately, this website takes a long time to fill orders. If you want your Trump shirt NOW, then you can find many on Amazon (but bear in mind that LOTS of people are making shirts and hats, and most of the money does not go to Trump). If you live in New York, you can buy your Trumpwear at Trump Tower itself.
The only rule I am imposing is that, with the exception of the MAGA hat, your Trumpwear must actually say “Trump” on it. On the way to Asheville, I wore the official Breitbart “Border Wall Construction Co.” tee shirt. You can buy this shirt at the Breitbart site. It produced zero reactions — except from the twelve year old son of my friends, who begged his parents to buy him one.
Take the challenge today, or as soon as you get your Trumpwear, and do your part to embolden others! AND PLEASE SHARE THIS ARTICLE.