He said he could “grab them by the pussy.”
He said, “When you’re a star, they let you do it.”
Some people said it was just a joke and locker-room talk.
Some people said boys will be boys.
He was not a boy.
He was fifty-nine.
What if everybody said that?
He said he could walk backstage while women were changing.
He said, “I sort of get away with things like that.”
He said it was because he owned the pageant.
Some people laughed and said it was a joke.
Some people said fame was different.
Is fame consent then?
A closed door is a closed door.
What if everybody did that?
A jury found him liable for sexual abuse and defamation.
He appealed the five million dollar verdict.
The Supreme Court said it stands.
He called it fake.
Some people said it did not matter.
Some people said it was civil, not criminal.
Some people said they cared about the price of eggs.
Is a jury just gossip now?
What if everybody did that?
He said he could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody.
He said he would not lose any voters.
Some people called it confidence.
Some people called it a joke and laughed.
But he was saying the rules did not apply to him.
And people agreed.
What if everybody did that?
He lost an election.
Then he said he won.
He called officials weak.
Some people counted.
Some people told him the truth.
But he still made the call.
He said, “I just want to find 11,780 votes.”
What if everybody said that?
He said John McCain was “not a war hero.”
He said, “I like people who weren’t captured.”
Some people laughed, and said McCain deserved it.
Some people said Trump was punching back.
But McCain had been a prisoner of war.
He had been beaten and tortured.
And the man mocking him had avoided the war.
What if everybody did that?
A disabled reporter challenged his story.
Trump stood before a crowd and flailed his arms.
He twisted his body and changed his voice.
Some people laughed.
Some people said he was not mocking him.
Some people said everyone was too sensitive.
But the crowd understood the joke.
And the cruelty was loud and clear.
What if everybody did that?
He called women “dogs.”
He called women “pigs.”
He called women “slobs.”
Some people laughed.
Some people called it honesty.
Some people said women say mean things too.
That is not honesty.
It was a man—with the codes to the world’s largest nuclear arsenal— acting how they always feared in women: emotional and unhinged.
What if everybody said that?
He called the press “the enemy of the people.”
Some people said reporters were corrupt.
Some people blamed Obama, because of course they did.
But free countries need witnesses.
They need someone to say, “That happened.”
They need questions, even for you, Obama.
What if everybody did that?
He said they were bringing drugs.
He said they were bringing crime.
He said they were rapists.
Some people said he meant the border.
Some people said he meant criminals.
But suspicion can create stereotypes.
And a whole people are not a threat.
What if everybody said that?
But then one person did not laugh.
One person did not make excuses and say,
“That is just how he talks.”
One person said,
“No.”
Then another person said it.
Then another.
And suddenly,
there was no audience.
No place for his hate to hide.
What if everybody did that?
Everybody should.
(Thanks to Ellen Javernick, for a truly remarkable children’s book about actions and accountability; and for the inspiration.)
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