Will Trump's Conviction Matter?
Trump is the first former President convicted of a crime...now what?
In this, the land that prides itself on dreams, I have come to know intimately the duality of existence. To be a Black person in America is to live in a world where there are always two of everything. Two education systems, two corporate worlds, two housing markets, two legal systems—each pair reflecting the chasm that divides white privilege from the struggle of everyone else. This duality, this relentless dichotomy, has shaped my understanding of a society that touts itself as a realm of opportunity but is actually a fortress of exclusion.
I thought about these two Americas as I listened to NPR announce that Donald Trump had become the first former president to be convicted of a crime, found guilty on 34 felony counts in the New York fraud trial against him.
While many Democrats posted memes and celebrated the verdict, all I could think of was the fact that despite now being a felon, Donald Trump would still get to run for President. A felon could potentially take back the White House in a country that doesn't even allow most felons to vote.
To understand the full measure of this nation's duplicity, one must look beyond the veneer of justice served. Trump's new identity as a felon only adds another layer to an already grotesque reality. It is not merely that he is a felon; it is that he was already a man marked by his attempt to overthrow the government on January 6th, a date which now stands as a testament to the lengths to which white privilege and power can extend.
Imagine, if you will, a Black man orchestrating such an insurrection. Imagine the swift and brutal justice that would be doled out, the cries for retribution that would echo through the halls of power. Yet, here we have a former president who, despite his blatant attempt to dismantle the democratic process, is not only free but is once again seeking the highest office in America—as a convicted felon. This is the extent of white privilege: the ability to defy the very foundations of the republic and emerge unscathed, to be not only forgiven but to be celebrated by a significant portion of the populace.
My hope, tenuous as it is, clings to the belief that this conviction will matter—that it might herald a shift in the conscience of a nation that ignores its own truths. Yet, as I watched Trump walk out of court to address the press with his characteristic bravado as if everything would be fine, a seething rage welled within me. It was a rage born not only from the sight of his freedom but from the painful awareness of the countless Black and Brown souls who had been disenfranchised, shackled, and discarded by a system designed to ensnare them for far less.
The man was convicted of 34 felony counts and walked out unshackled, unbowed, and likely boarded a private jet after giving his side of things to hundreds of news outlets. The luxury of his circumstance carrying him far from the grasp of accountability. As I write these words, he is perhaps soaring above the clouds, insulated by his wealth and privilege, a grotesque emblem of a system that bends and breaks for those it was designed to protect. This is the heart of our nation's duplicity, where justice is not blind but selectively sighted, where the powerful glide above the fray while the marginalized are left to grapple with the weight of their oppression.
This rage is the offspring of centuries of injustice, the bitter fruit of a tree nourished by the blood and sweat of those condemned to lesser fates for far lesser mistakes. I think of the men and women ensnared in the trappings of a society that criminalizes their very existence. And then there is Trump, striding confidently out of that courtroom, unencumbered by the weight of his crimes, his privileges insulating him from the consequences that would crush others. His freedom, his ability to speak, to continue his pursuit of power, reflects the enduring power of white privilege.
In this moment, my hope is both a flickering candle and a roaring fire. It is a candle, fragile and easily extinguished, representing the small, persistent belief that change is possible. It is a fire, fierce and consuming, driven by the rage that demands justice, that refuses to accept the status quo.
Democrats have a right to celebrate, and celebrate they should. The conviction of Donald Trump on 34 felony counts is a momentous occasion, a rare instance where the system momentarily bows to justice, acknowledging what we have always known—that his actions are not just indefensible but criminal. Yet, this celebration must be tempered with the understanding that it is but a fleeting victory in a long, arduous struggle. Like me, Democrats must learn to be both candle and fire.
Democrats must hold onto the fragile hope, the belief that this conviction might indeed signify a turning point, a crack in the fortress of exclusion that might, just might, let in the light of true justice. As such, the fire is the necessary rage and relentless demand for change Dems must have to actually have a chance at winning.
To think that this conviction will change Trump’s chances in the political arena is to fundamentally underestimate not only him but the very essence of white power and privilege that has enabled his rise. Trump’s conviction, rather than serving as a deterrent, is likely to embolden him and his supporters, reinforcing their narrative of persecution and martyrdom. It is exactly what he and his campaign want Democrats to do—underestimate the depth of depravity in America.
In underestimating Trump, people underestimate the American psyche that allowed him to ascend to the presidency in the first place.
Trump's base is not merely loyal; it is fervent, driven by a sense of loss and resentment that he has masterfully manipulated. His conviction will be spun into a tale of defiance, a battle against a corrupt system—a system that, in truth, remains all too willing to bend to his will. That tale will likely net him a heap of donations. The celebration of his conviction must therefore be a call to vigilance, a reminder that the work is far from over.
The true measure of this moment is not in the conviction of Donald Trump, but in what America does next.
Thank you to those who have preordered my forthcoming poetry collection, “We Alive, Beloved!” For those who haven’t, it’s available for preorder everywhere by clicking this link. Remember preorders are deeply important for Black authors. Preorder numbers tell booksellers and the media that a book has the potential of being successful and should be invested in.
And, there are those who will vote for him, in spite of his criminal status, to protect their own vast fortunes.
I did celebrate, but I'm also very aware that everything you said is true.