Losing Friends During Election: The Sequel
Election Season: A Battlefield of Values
Election season has always been charged, but this last one felt different. It wasn’t just debates over policy or disagreements over which candidate might better represent the people — it felt like a battlefield of values, where friendships, family bonds, and even community ties were casualties. I’ve spent much time thinking about why these moments hit so hard and what it means to watch people you once trusted align with rhetoric or symbols that carry heavy, historical weight.
Symbols of Hate and Republican Rhetoric: A Dangerous Pair
Take Elon Musk’s recent gesture during a speech at Donald Trump’s inauguration, for example. The sheer audacity of such a public act by someone with massive influence speaks volumes. It’s not just about the action; it’s about the message. Whether it was an attempt at irony or not, what it communicated — to me, to others who look like me, and to communities historically targeted — was clear: that the line between so-called “provocation” and outright hate has become dangerously thin. When someone with that much power and visibility makes a move like that, it’s not a joke or a throwaway moment. It emboldens those who already hold hateful beliefs. It signals to them that their ideologies are gaining legitimacy. It’s terrifying because we’ve seen this story and know how it ends if left unchecked. — The Australian
And then there’s the rhetoric coming from the Republican Party. I’m not talking about disagreements over economic strategies, healthcare policies, or global initiatives. I’m talking about the kind of language that directly targets Black people, immigrants, queer folks, and other marginalized groups. Phrases about “law and order” that are really about criminalizing Black existence. The constant attacks on education that dare to teach the truth about America’s history of racial violence. The outright lies about election integrity often disproportionately impact voters from Black and Brown communities. These aren’t dog whistles anymore. They’re sirens.
Credit: USA Today
Malcolm X’s Warning and the Normalization of Hate
As a Black man who admires Malcolm X, I think about his words often: “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.” And by extension, the Black community as a whole has always been left to fend for itself while enduring systemic attacks including suppression of our voices in the arena so many of our ancestors fought for, voting rights. When I see how the Republican Party weaponizes fear and perpetuates division, I can’t help but see the parallels to what Malcolm and Martin spoke about decades ago. They both taught us to be vigilant, see through false promises, and understand self-preservation’s importance, albeit in different ways.
What scares me most about this rhetoric is how it normalizes hate under the guise of “patriotism” or “tradition.” It’s not just about votes — it’s about creating an environment where people like me and my community feel less safe. When politicians vilify Critical Race Theory or restrict our ability to protest peacefully, it’s not just a random stance, nor is it a solution to the problems we yearn to have solved. It’s part of a larger agenda to control narratives, erase experiences, and solidify power by stoking fear. By suppressing Critical Race Theory, they’re not just shutting down academic discourse — they’re erasing the honest, contextualized history of enslaved times, a history that explains how systemic racism persists today. This erasure serves a purpose: it keeps people ignorant of the past so they can’t fully understand or challenge the present. — Berkeley News
Adding to that is the dangerous narrative that Black people should “get over” racism. This dismissive rhetoric minimizes the generational trauma of slavery, segregation, and systemic oppression. Telling us to “move on” from racism is not only insensitive but also a way to silence our voices and invalidate our experiences. It’s a strategy to deflect accountability and avoid meaningful discussions about justice and equity. These narratives leave us fighting for recognition of pain that should already be self-evident.
Voting Suppression and Trump’s Policies: Silencing Marginalized Voices
Voting suppression efforts are another tool in this playbook — purging voter rolls, cutting polling places in Black neighborhoods, and enacting strict voter ID laws. These strategies aren’t about “election integrity” but silencing voices that challenge their power.
Trump’s policies, too, caused significant harm to Black communities. His administration rolled back civil rights protections, undermined fair housing rules, and stoked division with racist rhetoric. The pandemic relief payments, which many relied on to survive, weren’t even part of his plan — he initially fought against larger payments before reluctantly conceding. These actions revealed a blatant disregard for the struggles of marginalized communities, prioritizing power and optics over meaningful support. — PBS
The Pain of Realization and Standing Firm
Election seasons reveal a lot about people, whether they want to admit it or not. They show you who’s willing to stand up for what’s right and who’s comfortable looking the other way, who’s willing to stand in justice and equity, and whose selfishness and willful ignorance seizes the day. Losing friends during this time isn’t just about political disagreements, policy debates or class affiliations. It’s about realizing that some people you care about are okay with siding with ideas and actions that threaten your humanity, freedoms, and existence. That realization is painful and infuriating, but it’s also clarifying.
Malcolm X once said, “You’re not to be so blind with patriotism that you can’t face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who does it or says it.” So, when I see the rise of harmful ideologies, the normalization of symbols of hate, or the complicity of silence, I know where I stand. I align myself with truth, justice, and the fight for freedom — even if that means walking away from people who choose otherwise.
