Cave-dweller Runs for President, Scares Everybody

I'm trying to imagine my daughter being mauled by a cave-dweller who thinks his name on the mortgage entitles him to anything and everybody within his reach.  My daughter is pretty and slender and smart and likely to find herself someday in the company of high-powered people.

What happens when one of these people takes this country girl off her guard and assaults her?  She won't be ready for it because she was raised in a small town where people hold each other accountable and where people expect, and receive, decency from their neighbors.

What happens when this happens?  My daughter will be totally screwed up from the pain and disappointment of the nightmare.  She'll pay for a crime few will notice or take seriously because it is still a man's world--and in that world there are moronic women (read:  Trump supporters) who will argue that she should have hauled off and slugged him and moved on, and, since she didn't, she is at fault.  That's how that goes.

Twenty years ago, I worked for a small-town newspaper where the managing editor's brother assumed the right to ogle and speak inappropriately to the women reporters.  He'd stalk us from his desk, all the while operating under the assumption that we should somehow be flattered by the attention.  I was naive enough to bring this problem to the managing editor's attention.  He asked me if I spoke to his brother about this.  Really.  We should speak to the guy who was leveraging his brother's authority over us to explain how that just wasn't right.

I found another job.

Because I knew how these things go.  I had encountered men who would attempt to take advantage of women because they could, sure there would be no consequences.  Perhaps the miracle of my life is to arrive at middle age without the belief that all men are self-serving ass-holes, pigs, perverts, opportunists--and let's stop there before the language gets colorful.

The guy with (suddenly toned-down) orange hair but without any policies, zero demonstrated understanding of what goes on in the world, and devoid of the ability to complete a coherent sentence who imagines he is entitled to the presidency of this amazing country would make abusing women just a thing guys do--locker-room banter.  The orange guy even has Mr. Manners himself (Rudy Giuliani) arguing that talking about woman as if they were life-sized Happy Meal toys for perverts really is normal banter.

But all of this talk of the locker-room takes my mind to the high school where my sister works, where Yemeni girls concealed in their burqas show up in guidance thinking they have the right to roll back Title IX because their faith prohibits them from being seen in their gym clothes by boys.

"I'm here, so change everything."  Really?  And who are you, again?

Where am I going with this?  Do I want to throw a giant rug over my kid so that perverts like Trump, whose behavior would be validated by his election to the presidency, can't trifle with her?  Does Trump's behavior suggest to me that this image of total repression--the burqa--offers to American women the only hope of freedom from sexual harassment and assault?

Or am I going someplace else?  Perhaps Trump, like these misguided, essentially blindfolded young people with a limited concept of where they are and what makes America great right now, mistakenly believe in their hubristic excess that they get to call the shots just because they are different.

Yes:  Trump and the Yemeni girls need to chill out and accept that there is a higher power at work here.  That higher power is a system that works.  Anybody can be a part of it if they are humble enough to respect it for what it is and to work with others.  Bluster doesn't impress us.  If you're too showy, we will show you to the door.  And that goes for the mouthy C student trying to take down the brilliant nerd with his tough talk.

And you can call your lawyer.  Or your pathetic, aging Barbie doll of a campaign manager.  But the bottom line remains:  We can do it without you.  And we will. Please God, we will.