Why we must overcome

JUST at the point where I thought I had reached the zenith of horror in my reactions to the USA Presidential debates, I was caught off-guard. Googling the American vox populi in the aftermath of the final Presidential debate this week, I came across a video clip of an interview with a middle-aged Republican delegate from Montana.

To set the scene, she was dolled up in a kind of homespun, pound-shop Stars and Stripes cowboy outfit, her statement jewellery piece a big’n’brash plastic badge pinned to her waistcoat, declaring: “Hot Chicks for Trump”.

The crowning glory to this get-up was a large and, undoubtedly, bespoke foam cowboy hat that appeared to have undergone dual-purpose customisation so that it could be worn seamlessly to either a Republican or, with a quick tilt of said headpiece, a leprechaun convention. The gist of the journalist’s questioning in this clip was about the practicalities of building Trump Wall between Mexico and the USA. When pushed by the journalist on how this would be done, the cowboy/leprechaun delegate thought hard for a bit and said: “Well, I would pattern it after the Great Wall of China.” Prodded further about the possibility that people (presumably Mexicans) might try to climb over it and what would she do then, she replied: “Personally, I’d shoot them … they’re invading our country.” There wasn’t a hint of shame or circumspection in her response. Clearly, she felt God was on her side of the wall. As for those who lived on the other side of the wall, frankly (my dear), she couldn’t give a damn. The problem is that when “the others” means all that is “not me” or not “my tribe,” it cancels out an awful lot of souls on our planet We all build walls around us. If we’ve had a bad experience and sustained a deep emotional wound or trauma, the wall is essentially protective. Sometimes, such walls are necessary but they should always be temporary