I used to wonder how it was possible that Donald Trump could have won the presidency in 2016 — and again in 2024 — despite his obvious emotional toxicity and moral volatility. Now I believe it isn’t surprising at all. In fact, I believe he won because of those traits.
If you are racist, you found your guy. If you are misogynist, you found your guy. If all you care about is money, you found your guy. If you mock the disabled or despise the intellectual, you found your guy. If you’re a hustler or a conman, if you avoid responsibility, if you joke about abuse or cheat without remorse — you found your guy.
If you have never addressed your emotional wounds, if you live in resentment or fear, if your ego’s gap is so wide that not even the presidency could fill it — you found your guy.
If he had only a few of these flaws, he might not have won. But the truth is: he exhibited hundreds of them, and that made him compelling. Because millions of people are broken in one way or another — they saw themselves in him.
It has never really been about Trump. It’s about the people who finally felt validated in their twisted feelings. He gave permission to disparage others, to hate openly, to weaponize grievance.
The most revealing sentence is this: “He says what I’m thinking.”
Maybe that’s the haunting part. Who realised that tens of millions of Americans harboured unconscionable thoughts about other Americans? Who knew that so many men felt emasculated, so many white Americans seethed with resentment after what seemed to be progress on race and gender? Who knew that they were waiting for a demagogue to give voice, to validate, to channel it into power?
Perhaps we were living in a fool’s paradise. Now we can’t unsee what was always there.
I used to wonder how a song like “Banned in the U.S.A.” could resonate so strongly back in 1990—how a group known for controversy could create an anthem of protest that seemed almost prophetic. Now I believe I understand why.
This song spoke to people who felt hidden, silenced, dismissed. If you felt your voice was banned, you found your anthem. If you felt judged for your expression, you found your beat. If you believed that the promises of freedom didn’t include you—even though they said they did—you found your voice.
“The First Amendment gave us freedom of speech / So what you sayin’, it didn’t include me?” This line isn’t just about lyrics—it’s about a feeling that millions carry.
When the cultural gatekeepers labelled expression obscene, separate, or unacceptable, the song shouted back: “Don’t talk about us without including us.”
It has never truly been about 2 Live Crew alone. It’s about those who are told their sound is worthless, their image a problem, their truth a threat. It’s about standing up when the system says “You don’t belong.”
In that moment, the music became more than sound—it became resistance.
— abijohn.com