Infamy

Yesterday was Monday, June 1, 2020. I worked a normal (what passes for normal) WFH day, went for a walk, prepped food for dinner, and then turned on the news. My husband and I watched live as tension grew between what appeared to be very peaceful protesters, and officers from the National Park Police, DC National Guard, MPD, and Arlington County Police.

The TV reporters, one of whom wore a gas mask, seemed bewildered more than anything else. They kept explaining that the protests were peaceful; that no one was rioting or breaking windows or even throwing anything. They were honestly curious, as were we, about why the mounted officers were trying to push the crowds back, and why people were beginning to panic a bit. When the teargas was released and the flash-bangs exploded, the reporters became agitated. All of this because the 7 PM curfew was approaching?

We watched the President’s short speech, in which he didn’t mention the reason for the protest, but threatened a crackdown and promised to protect the Second Amendment. And not for the first time in recent weeks, I thought about how the Bill of Rights contains ten amendments, but Donald Trump seems interested in only one.

Then we saw the President and his whole criminal gang walking toward St. John’s on Lafayette Square. And it slowly dawned on us that the teargas had nothing to do with the curfew and nothing to do with restoring order. The police and the National Guard teargassed peaceful protesters gathering in accordance with their free speech and free assembly rights because Donald Trump wanted to walk across the street.

It’s all too new to process now. Maybe this is the turning point, for better or worse. Maybe it’s just Trump upping the ante one more time to see how much more he can get away with. Or maybe he’s finally nearing his limit. Maybe starting now, even his supporters won’t be able to pretend that he’s not a weak and despicable coward. I hope for the latter. But June 1, 2020 is a day that will live in infamy, either way.