But the truth is this: These white working-class voters have never been forgotten, while those who truly are forgotten still don’t have a voice.
If Trump really wants to speak for forgotten Americans, he would travel to the Mississippi Delta and the rural Black Belt of the American South, where conditions are so wretched and dire that even a struggling Rust Belt factory town might seem like a bountiful paradise of opportunity and wealth.
I’ve spent a lot of the last few days comforting family members, friends, and many of my students who were feeling traumatized. And in comforting them, I’ve realized that I have a small sliver of hope about our future. Perhaps it’s pure naïveté, but I have hope that there’s at least one person in the Republican leadership with a bit of common sense. And I hope this person will be able to slow the knee-jerk agenda of the alt-right or the Freedom Caucus.
I didn’t vote for Donald Trump. As those who have read my posts during this campaign are aware, I have criticized Mr. Trump in the strongest terms, comparing him to Joe McCarthy, Heinrich Himmler, Benito Mussolini and Lonesome Rhodes—a populist demagogue played by Andy Griffith in the film, A Face In the Crowd.
I retract nothing; I apologize for nothing. So why was I curiously elated on election night when Trump was declared the winner? Simple. It was a purely visceral reaction: I was tired of being condescended to by smug liberals.
In the judiciary branch, Trump’s election is less a disaster, more a setback. It’s certainly disappointing for those who hoped to establish a new coalition on the Supreme Court that could safeguard and advance liberal perspectives on constitutional and legal readings, but certain rights and laws upheld by this court are unlikely to be overturned.