“Now, if I don’t get elected, it’s gonna be a bloodbath. That’s going to be the least of it … It’s going to be a bloodbath for the country.” — Donald J. Trump on March 16th, 2024
Few words carry as profound a resonance as those spoken by Maya Angelou, a voice of wisdom whose legacy transcends the mere act of writing. It is my belief that her quote, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them,” is amongst the most important things ever said. This statement is a simple yet seismic assertion that asks us to confront the very essence of our connections with others.
These words have sat with me like a close friend for most of my life, living at the center of how I view individuals and communities. Most importantly, it is a guiding principle in how I try to stay safe, stay alive, as a Black man in America.
Angelou's words are not merely advice for personal relationships but a call for societal introspection. In a country marred by the legacies of oppression and hatred, where the foundations of community have too often been built with bones of mistrust and prejudice, Angelou's words serve as a testament to the importance of seeing others not as we wish them to be, but as they truly are.
This principle, like a lantern in the night, is why I saw the horizon of 2016 with clear eyes, understanding that Donald Trump would ascend to the presidency of the United States. I am no prophet, and my knowledge of what was to come was not clairvoyance, but the harsh guidance of history that gave this foresight.
America has shown itself time and again, for those willing to see. A blatant white supremacist becoming President following two terms of the nation’s first Black President and Black First Family, was almost as certain and the sunrise.
This is a nation that, countless times, has yearned for the overt embrace of white nationalism, cloaked in the guise of restoration and false nostalgia. Voting numbers, political policies, and hate-filled rallies, have historically shown that millions of Americans desire a country that lynches, beats, incarcerates, segregates, rapes, demoralizes, and dehumanizes. And Donald Trump wisely invoked all of these things during his 2016 presidential campaign, which should have raised a red flag for many. But instead, most who claim to oppose these things chose the comfort of disbelief, the soft lullaby of denial.
Now—here we are again. And I’m begging people not to sleep.
In 2024, we find ourselves at another precipice, staring down the dark barrel of history, the BANG is loud and clear for those who choose to listen. Donald Trump and his supporters have not whispered but shouted their intentions from the rooftops, raising banners of violence and divisiveness that are as blatant as they are horrifying.
Donald Trump has, with a kind of ominous consistency, prophesied chaos should his third bid for the presidency fail—a sentiment echoed with fervent zeal by his MAGA base. Yet, this dire warning seems to have slipped past the collective vigilance of our democratic political leadership and countless citizens. Beyond the fleeting outrage of fundraising emails from Joe Biden, a tangible sense of urgency seems conspicuously absent, as if we, as a nation, are not potentially months away from unprecedented violence.
History speaks to us across the ages, its voice resounding with the stories of men like Adolf Hitler, whose violent acts were not shrouded in ambiguity but illuminated by the glaring light of his own words. And yet, as has been the case too often, those warnings were met with dismissal, a collective turning away that would lead to cataclysm.
It is here, in the examination of such figures, that Maya Angelou's wisdom echoes with a resounding urgency. Hitler laid bare his ambitions in “Mein Kampf,” a manifesto brimming with hatred and visions of conquest, years before the world bore witness to the full horror of his ideology manifest. Those who read his words and understood them for what they were—promises rather than mere rhetoric—were generally ignored, their warnings unheeded in a world that chose the comfort of disbelief over the discomfort of action. Not so different from 2016 or 2024.
This pattern of ignoring the proclaimed intentions of those who seek power is not an anomaly confined to the era of the World Wars. Time and again, we have seen leaders and movements telegraph their intentions, only for those signals to be dismissed as bluster or political posturing. This disregard for the stated aims and beliefs of those who would lead or destroy us has proved, repeatedly, to be a grave miscalculation.
And to be clear, I think there will be chaos whether Trump wins or loses, though far more if he fails to defeat Biden a second time. Again, when people show you who they are, believe them.
The specter of history, not as distant as we might wish, looms large with its lessons unheeded. Just weeks after the 2020 election was called for Joe Biden, Donald Trump marshaled an insurrection, a convulsion of fury and denial that shook the very foundations of American democracy.
Donald Trump was able to galvanize many of the insurrectionists by centering the idea that the election had been stolen from him. Now, three years later, he has had ample time to further weaponize and indoctrinate people in that election theft rhetoric. Trump has not merely whispered sedition into the ear of America; he has shouted it, broadcast it with the fervor of an evangelist preaching the coming apocalypse. This idea, that democracy was pilfered, hijacked in the dead of night, has found fertile ground in the hearts of millions. Here lies not just the murmuring of discontent but the loud clamor of a people convinced of their own disenfranchisement.
For three years, this idea has burrowed deep into the marrow of the Republican party, and alarmingly, into the psyche of a significant portion of the American people. Two thirds of Republicans have taken this narrative to heart, as have three in every ten Americans across the broader spectrum. These are not mere statistics; they are millions of souls, millions of believers in a falsified gospel.
What happens when so many of America’s citizens, especially those with white rage, angst, and privilege, stand convinced that their electoral process is fundamentally corrupt? It means that the soil of this country is now seeded with further doubt, watered with more anger, and that what grows from it may well choke the very life from the failing experiment that is the United States of America.
And what terrifies me, is envisioning the form this suffocation assumes if Trump loses again. We have seen an insurrection concocted with little preparation—so what happens when these millions of election theft believers, seething with a sense of betrayal, convince themselves that the soul of this country must be reclaimed, regardless of the blood price? I believe this to be the carnage, “the bloodbath” Trump alluded to at his rally in Ohio. He possesses an intimate understanding of his base, their capacities for destruction. He is well aware of the audacity swelling within them, audacity that emboldened an assault on the Capitol of the country they claim to love so much.
This is not mere political theater; it's a harbinger of chaos, a testament to the fact that the seeds of discord sown by Trump and his supporters have germinated into a storm of disillusionment and fury. These are not the idle threats of a political fringe but the battle cries of a movement that has entrenched itself at the heart of the American identity.
The audacity, the sheer recklessness of believing they could storm the Capitol, speaks volumes of the narrative Trump has crafted: a narrative where they are the heroes, the true patriots fighting against a corrupted, stolen system. This narrative, however distorted, however removed from the pillars of democracy, resonates. It resonates because it feeds into a deeper, more insidious belief in the right to rule, the right to dominate. It is the echo of a past where control was maintained by any means necessary, a past that is just yesterday.
I’m sure, to many, the MAGA base appears a ragtag bunch of the disillusioned deplorables, easily dismissed with an eye roll. Yet, this casual dismissal belies the profound danger lurking within—a danger magnified a hundredfold in a land where guns outnumber people, where violence is as American as apple pie.
I have listened to voices, some steeped in hope, others in naivety, proclaim that the insurrection was a fluke of a fading administration. They assert with a misplaced confidence that a Biden presidency wields the might of the military, a wall against any wave chaos. But such views are myopic, ensnared by a failure to grasp the true nature of the beast we face.
Violence does not wait for an invitation. It does not confine itself to the convenient boundaries we might wish to impose. There is a dangerous ignorance in believing that violence, especially the brand that showed up ready to assassinate Donald Trump’s former Vice President, Mike Pence, would manifest in a single, isolated incident or location. The assumption that it would not ripple across the nation, touching cities and towns with a disparate, yet equally destructive, hand is a dangerous underestimation.
Moreover, the belief that current or former military personnel, trained in the arts of warfare and strategy, would uniformly stand against Trump and his calls for upheaval, ignores the lessons scrawled in the margins of the insurrection's playbook. We have seen the evidence, as clear as day, that among those ranks are individuals who support Trump, swayed by the siren song of a stolen white nation. These are not mere foot soldiers of chaos but potential architects of a more calculated, strategic violence. They possess the knowledge, the skills, and, given time, the means to orchestrate not random acts of violence but a concerted campaign designed to destabilize and destroy.
This nation, with its patchwork quilt of gun laws and its disgustingly white nationalist approach to “public safety”, stands ill-prepared to confront such a threat. Our collective experience with random acts of violence—mass shootings that have become as much a part of our national identity as our flag—offers a grim prognosis for our ability to handle a surge of strategic violence.
I don't say any of these things to frighten anyone, nor do I have the answers. I'm not an elected official nor a combat expert; I'm just a writer with a platform who has been correct in the past and sees and hears what might lie before us now. But I do have a few thoughts on what I believe should be done.
For starters, on a systemic level there should be greater repercussions for the insurrectionists. In a country where resources and tools can be finely tuned to surveil and smother the breaths of Black and Brown lives with a precision that speaks of a grotesque dedication, the response to the insurrectionists is, at best, laughably absurd. Only a few hundred out of the thousands who, with brazen entitlement, stormed the Capitol—faces shown to cameras, unashamed and unafraid—have been charged.
This is not an oversight; it is a choice—a choice that speaks volumes of the values this country truly upholds. America can move mountains to incarcerate a Black person for a minor drug offense, but seems suddenly powerless when faced with the task of holding white insurrectionists accountable. To ensure they cannot sow further discord and destruction, these perpetrators must be treated with the full weight of the law, a measure that has been unequivocally applied to far less threatening figures on the other end of the racial and political spectrum. If not, it may be America’s very undoing.
This is what we must demand from the politicians elected to represent us. Especially because most MAGA supporters seem to believe Donald Trump is above the law (by all accounts it feels as though they are right), and they see that power extending to themselves. Which has been the case for thousands.
Beyond the insurrectionists, we have to look at our own actions going forward. As it is imperative not merely to observe or to lament but to act with intention and purpose. If we are to face the violence promised by Donald Trump and parroted in chants of his supporters, we must first acknowledge that vigilance is not a passive stance but an active engagement with our reality. It is a call to arm ourselves, not necessarily with weapons, but with the tools and knowledge to safeguard our communities and our future.
I believe we must first educate ourselves and those around us. This education extends beyond the traditional realms of history and politics into an understanding of the mechanisms of power, privilege, and oppression that underpin our society. It means dissecting the narratives spun by those who seek to divide us, recognizing the tactics of misinformation, and understanding the true nature of the threats we face.
In parallel, we must build networks of solidarity and support that transcend boundaries of race, class, and ideology. These networks must function as both a sanctuary and a mobilizing force, capable of responding to crises and threats with unity and determination. They should be spaces where strategies are formulated, resources are pooled, and resilience is built. In the face of division, our solidarity becomes our strongest defense.
We must also take seriously the task of preparing for potential unrest. This preparation involves practical measures, such as community defense initiatives that prioritize de-escalation and protection without escalating violence. It includes legal training to understand our rights and how to exercise them in times of crisis. It also means mental and emotional preparedness, fostering resilience in the face of fear and uncertainty.
Finally, we must not lose sight of the power of narrative. Just as those who peddle in hate and division have used stories to stoke fear and anger, so too must we wield the power of storytelling to illuminate truth, inspire hope, and foster understanding. We must reclaim the narrative, telling the stories of our shared humanity, our collective struggles, and our dreams for a future where democracy is not a battleground but a shared foundation.
In the end, our vigilance is measured not by our ability to predict the future but by our readiness to shape it. As we confront the challenges ahead, let us remember that our strength lies not in the absence of conflict but in our capacity to engage with it, to learn from it, and ultimately, to emerge from it not divided but united in our resolve to forge a more just, equitable, and inclusive society.
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Thank you for writing. We are stronger together.
You are a disingenuous liar. Please stop taking advantage of the uninformed. You know full well what Trump meant, and if you shared the sentences before that sentenced you would not be able to manipulate people and keep them victims. God is watching.