Hey folks, this evening, I joined my dear friend Allison Gill (MuellerSheWrote) for a lively discussion about Pope Leo XIV, the new head of the Catholic Church. We discussed his politics and ideology, the shadow of the sex abuse scandals of the Church, and why this new pontiff is a direct opponent of Trump’s worldview.Earlier today, I published this piece about the rightwing outrage directed at the new pope — basically, that these folks are never happy. Check it out.

Thank you Reda Rountree (she/her), Kim B., A. Hofferkamp, Joanne, MagnaAnimus, and many others for tuning into my live video with Allison Gill!

[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: [email protected]. And if this is too big of a commitment, I’m always thankful for a simple cup of coffee.]

You may have missed it in the chaos of our current news environment, but this week, the bodies of four American soldiers were pulled out of a peat bog—basically a swamp—in Lithuania about a week after they went missing there while on a training mission.

Last week, while a search was still underway for the missing soldiers, Trump was asked in the Oval Office by a reporter about the unfolding crisis and he responded that he didn’t know anything about it.

Yesterday, the bodies of the four soldiers arrived at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware and were received in a ceremony known as a “dignified transfer,” which is attended by senior government officials and often the sitting president.

Last night, it was reported by NBC News that instead of attending the dignified transfer to honor the deceased soldiers, Trump flew to Florida to watch a LIV Golf tournament and attend a reception being hosted at his resort.

I understand many of you aren’t familiar with dignified transfers and why what Trump has done here is so disgusting and unbecoming and insulting to the memories of these soldiers.

During my time in the 3rd U.S. Infantry Regiment (The Old Guard), I was honored to take part in many dignified transfers at the height of our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.

So, I’ll explain:

The straight-line distance between Washington, D.C., and Dover, Delaware, is less than 85 miles. It takes a helicopter about 40 to 45 minutes to make the trip.

I was 19 years old, and it was my first time riding a helicopter.

I barely remember any of it. I was distracted.

I was more nervous than I've ever been in my life about what was to come next, and so, as this Black Hawk floated above the earth with my casket team, me the youngest and most junior, I could only think: What if I mess this up? What if I fail? How will I live with myself?

That's how it should be in a moment like this. You should be nervous. You should let that sharpen your focus. Because there is no room for error when handling the remains of a service member returning to the United States after they’ve died. You should strive for perfection.

The helicopter landed, and my anxiety spiked.

In retrospect, I recall noticing the silence of the rest of the casket team. These were young men, mostly early 20s, loud and boisterous and chests puffed. Now, they were quiet. It was unnerving.

When you're a new enlisted soldier in an infantry unit (the FNG) you're treated like you know nothing. Because you don't. Everyone around you is older and vastly more competent and confident. Yet, in this moment, despite having done this before, they were all nervous, too. It was unsettling.

We were brought into a holding area near the tarmac on Dover Air Force Base in Delaware, where the remains of service members who have died in a theater of operations arrive on a C-17 transport plane. We rehearsed our steps. And did it again. And then again. No room for error.

The plane arrived. The ramp was lowered. The transfer vehicle that would complete the next leg of the journey was parked. Our casket team was positioned. We were now each wearing ceremonial white cotton gloves we had held under the bathroom faucet. Damp gloves have a better grip.

We’re a casket team, but these are not caskets. They're transfer cases: rectangular aluminum boxes that bear a resemblance to a crate for production equipment. Yet, the dimensions are obvious. Any given civilian would take only a few moments to realize that's for carrying bodies.

It's called a "dignified transfer," not a "ceremony," because officials don't want loved ones to feel obligated to be there while in mourning. But it is as highly choreographed as any ceremony, probably more so. It is done as close to perfection as anything the military does.

I was positioned in formation with my casket team, and I could see the transfer cases precisely laid out, military dress-right-dress, in the cavernous space of the C-17, each draped with an American flag that had been fastened perfectly. I remember my stomach dropping.

There is simply no space for other thoughts. Your full brain capacity is focused on not screwing up. The casket team steps off in crisp, exact steps toward the plane, up the ramp (please, oh God, don't slip), aside the case, lift up ceremonially, face back and down the ramp.

During movement, everyone else is saluting: the plane personnel, the OIC (officer in charge), any senior NCOs (noncommissioned officers) and generals, and occasionally, the president. The family is sometimes there. No ceremonial music or talking. All silent, save for the steps of the casket team.

You don't see the family during this. You're too focused. There are other distractions. Maybe they forgot, but no one told me there'd be 40-60 pounds of ice in the transfer case to prevent decomposition over the 10-hour plane ride. You can sometimes feel it sloshing around a bit.

Some of the transfer cases feel slightly heavier, some slightly lighter. The weight is distributed among six bearers, so it's not a big difference. But then you carry a case that's significantly lighter, and you realize those are the only remains they were able to recover.

It probably takes all of 30-40 seconds to carry the transfer case from the plane to the mortuary vehicle, but it feels like the longest walk ever each time. The case is carefully placed in the back of the mortuary vehicle, and the casket team moves away in formation.

When it's over and you're on your way back to Washington, you're overcome with a mixture of intense relief that you didn't screw up and profound sobriety over what you've just done and witnessed. I wouldn't call it a good feeling. Maybe a numbed pain.

From the outside, the most egalitarian place in America is a military transfer case. They all look exactly the same: an aluminum box covered with the American flag. We didn't know their names, rank, race, ethnicity, gender, religion, sexual orientation — none of it. All the same.

Whatever cruel and unfathomable politics had brought all of us to that moment, from the killed service member in the box, to those of us carrying it, to the occasional elected official who attends to pay respects, there were no politics to be found during a dignified transfer.

The fallen service members I helped receive and carry during this part of the journey to their final resting place were not "losers" or "suckers" — as Trump has infamously called them.

They were selfless and heroic, and I had the honor of being among the first to hold them when they returned home.

There are service members and civilians around the world involved in caring for our war fatalities: the mortuary specialists, the casket teams, the family liaisons — so many people who work to ensure that this final act is done with the greatest amount of dignity and honor, seeking perfection.

I suppose the one thing we all took for granted is that dignity would always be affirmed by all our civilian leaders to those service members who gave everything. I never would have predicted any official, let alone a sitting president, would insult fallen service members.

This is not to say the four American soldiers who died in Lithuania were not honored by a sitting president.

On Thursday, when the bodies of the soldiers were being transported to the airport in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, thousands of people there lined the streets to pay their respects.

Among them was Lithuanian President Gitanas Nauseda, who, apparently, has more respect for our troops than our own commander-in-chief.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: [email protected]. And if this is too big of a commitment, I’m always thankful for a simple cup of coffee.]

Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility, often shortened to Trans Day of Visibility (or TDOV).

It was created by Rachel Crandall Crocker in Michigan in 2009, and it’s now celebrated in countries around the world.

Most estimates put trans and nonbinary people at between 0.5 and 1 percent of the total U.S. population, but some data suggests we may be as high as two percent.

Personally, I think it’s higher than that. I believe there are millions of closeted trans and nonbinary and gender-expansive and gender-questioning people in our country who don’t have the necessary encouragement and resources to live authentically.

I don’t need to elaborate on how our political climate has been saturated with an ongoing campaign of fear and terror against trans people.

That’s why visibility is so important: it saves lives, it gives voice to the voiceless, and it offers joy and hope and comfort where scarce.

I would not be alive today were it not for three primary blessings: 1) friends of all backgrounds who ensured I had love and safety and dignity, 2) the grace of a merciful and loving God who kept me buoyed through many difficult years of feeling incongruent with the world around me, and 3) every trans and nonbinary person whose visibility gave me strength and confidence to come out in my own time.

I exist today in my authenticity because of the visibility of trans and nonbinary people whose selflessness and courage paved roads that have permitted me to navigate the world with an expansive liberation in broader society they never got to experience.

I think of the closeted trans girl in Central Texas who once felt so alone and scared and ashamed of how I was born. For many years, I prayed every day that God would cleanse me of my desire to be who I really am, and it took a long time to recognize that being trans is a gift from God and part of my soul’s commission.

I thank God that I’m trans.

I can’t help but feel sympathy for the tens of millions of non-trans people in our country who are constantly burdened and tortured with struggling to meet the gendered expectations demanded of them by so much of society.

I think many non-trans people struggle with how our culture successfully and cruelly controls them, forcing them to be who they’re not, shaming them who they really are, all in service to a painful and unnecessary gendered framework that insists on an unforgiving rigidity solely meant to avoid discomfort based on irrational fear.

I think non-trans people who hate those of us who are trans are really motivated by a taught fear of themselves. It has to be terrifying to suppress oneself, only to witness people who have rejected that painful suppression.

Every transphobic argument can basically be boiled down to: "I actually don't know the science at all or have a good argument here, but trans people challenge my long held view of the world and it's very uncomfortable and everyone should be expected to move around my discomfort."

There’s obvious bigotry in that mindset, of course, but there’s also an extraordinary and unyielding and obvious pain, too.

Trans people are a constant reminder that there’s an entire world outside of what most non-trans people have been aggressively and irrationally conditioned to accept.

Today is about trans visibility and trans joy, to be sure, but I would also like to believe it can mean so much more. It can mean that non-trans people feel greater comfort and acceptance in embracing their own authenticity—however that may look—by the example trans and nonbinary people set.

I want every trans and nonbinary child in this country to be safe and loved and empowered, and I also want that for every non-trans child. I want every trans and nonbinary adult to be safe and loved and empowered, and I also want that for every non-trans adult.

I think that’s an essential North Star worthy of any compass.

That’s why I’m visible, and that’s what I wish for all of you, too.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: [email protected]. And if this is too big of a commitment, I’m always thankful for a simple cup of coffee.]

This evening, I sat down with my dear friend, the brilliant Shannon Watts, author of the Playing with Fire Substack (among many other hats), for a live discussion on why we both strongly believe the time has come for Sen. Chuck Schumer to step down as leader, why we’re supporting a boycott of contributions to Senate Democrats until they force him to do so, and what all Democrats can do to make this happen.

Shannon and I walked through the understandable concerns some of our fellow Democrats have felt over this effort and why, after all our discussion and introspection, we still believe Mr. Schumer needs to step down.

If you’re unsure of why so many of us want Mr. Schumer to step down, I’ve outlined my reasons in this essay.

And if you, too, are angry over our current situation with Democratic leadership and believe Mr. Schumer needs to step down, please sign our petition and join the 42,000 (and growing) Democrats (including a number of elected officals) who are calling on Mr. Schumer step aside for the good of our democracy.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: [email protected]. And if this is too big of a commitment, I’m always thankful for a simple cup of coffee.]

Last night, I spoke with Democratic strategist Julie Roginsky, author of Salty Politics, longtime political commentator, and founder of Lift Our Voices.

For ninety minutes, we had a frank discussion on trans rights, the state of the Democratic Party, and what it means to have effective messaging in this moment.

I enjoyed chatting Ms. Roginsky because we’re two proud Democrats who believe our party could be doing a hell of lot more in this moment and demanding that is an act of love and respect.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Yesterday afternoon, the bodies of Gene Hackman, Betsy Arakawa, and their dog were found at their home in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The County Sheriff’s Office did not have reason to suspect foul play this early in the investigation, and there’s no official confirmation on the cause of their deaths. Many have suggested it may have been carbon monoxide poisoning.

The couple had been married since 1991.

Betsy Arakawa, 63, was a retired classical pianist and co-owned Pandora’s Box, a home furnishings store in Santa Fe which she launched with her friend Barbara Lenihan. She resolutely avoided the spotlight and cherished her privacy, never giving public interviews and preferring to live a quiet life with her husband.

Gene Hackman, 95, was a Marine Corps veteran who had wanted to act since he was ten years old and pursued that dream several years after he left the service.

At the Pasadena Playhouse, Mr. Hackman and his friend Dustin Hoffman were voted “The Least Likely to Succeed” and shortly thereafter moved to NYC to prove the doubters wrong and make their way into the industry. They befriended Robert Duvall, and the three struggling actors shared apartments for much of the ‘60s.

All three became some of the best actors of their generation and among the greatest of all-time.

Mr. Hackman won Oscars for Best Actor (The French Connection, 1971) and Best Supporting Actor (Unforgiven, 1993), along with additional nominations for Best Actor (Mississippi Burning, 1989) and Best Supporting Actor (Bonnie & Clyde, 1968; I Never Sang for My Father, 1971).

He also won three Golden Globes (five additional nominations, plus the 2003 Cecil B. DeMille Award), two BAFTAs (five additional nominations), and a Screen Actors Guild Award along with the rest of the cast of The Birdcage (1997).

That’s all swell, but itemizing accolades doesn’t come close to doing justice to the spell cast by Gene Hackman onscreen.

The magic of Mr. Hackman is that he somehow played the same person and a completely different person, simultaneously, in every movie, and it always felt exactly right.

If you saw his face in a movie when you were flipping channels, you stopped to watch.

Because it's Gene Hackman. I mean, Hoosiers (1986). C’mon, now.

Every big character Mr. Hackman has done is so individually compelling whilst simultaneously bearing hallmarks that can only be done by Gene Hackman and wouldn't be as good without them, and we completely bought it every time.

It never felt like he broke himself down for characters. He seemed to just put on a costume and act his ass off. And it always worked.

My favorite performance by Mr. Hackman is Captain Ramsey in Crimson Tide (1995), the commander of a nuclear submarine who is clearly emotionally unstable and paranoid.

I’ve watched that movie so many times, and even when he’s not onscreen, Mr. Hackman looms large in every frame, somehow stealing scenes he’s not even in.

The pettiness and resentment and narcissism of the character is so palpable that the thought still briefly crosses my mind during every rewatch: “Damn, he’s gonna get ‘em all killed.”

One of the more interesting “what ifs” in the history of film casting is how Mr. Hackman almost played Calvin Jarrett, the father in Ordinary People (1980), but withdrew due to a financial disagreement with the studio.

The late, great Donald Sutherland was cast instead and gave a superb performance—which was infamously snubbed for a Best Actor nomination that year—but just for a second, try to imagine Mr. Hackman in that particular role.

I want to see that movie, too.

Mr. Hackman fully stepped away from acting in 2004 and confirmed his retirement in subsequent years, only making a guest appearance in an episode of “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives” in 2008 and lending his voice to two Marine Corps documentaries.

Ms. Arakawa and Mr. Hackman remodeled a home in Santa Fe and built a quiet and peaceful life there over the past 35 years, away from all the glitz and glamour and gossip of Hollywood and the film industry, for which neither had much patience.

Their idea of a good time was spending every Friday night watching stand-up comedy, Susie Izzard being one of their favorites.

Their family and friends are in my thoughts today.

What a year, y’all. What a year.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

On Friday, actress and model Hunter Schafer posted an eight-and-a-half minute video on TikTok in which she revealed that the replacement passport she had just received had the gender marker changed from female to male.

Ms. Schafer is a trans woman, widely beloved among Gen-Z for her acting—particularly her performance in “Euphoria”—and broadly considered one of the most beautiful women in the world. Over the years, she’s modeled for Prada, Vera Wang, Marc Jacobs, Alexander McQueen, and many other houses.

She came out as a teen girl and has renewed previously with the correct gender marker, with no issues. That means the State Department is either intentionally flagging all American passports with record of a gender marker change and/or they’re intentionally cross-referencing passports with birth certificates, some of which are issued by states that ban gender marker changes.

Not to mention: the ridiculous complexity for intersex Americans.

Florida, Kansas, Montana, Oklahoma, Tennessee, and Texas all prohibit gender marker amendments on birth certificates. Their number will very likely grow by the end of this year. Last week, the Arizona House approved a bill banning residents from amending their birth certificates to reflect their authentic gender identity.

I’m worried for all the obvious reasons: the government tracking, the likely surveillance of trans people, the grave risk of an incorrect, “outed” passport for any trans person who needs to travel internationally, the potential for confusion and obstruction over government documents for things like security clearances, etc.

That same day, the Bureau of Prisons announced that trans people incarcerated in federal prisons would be moved to facilities that align with their sex assigned at birth, as early as next week. There are nearly 2,300 trans people incarcerated in federal prisons at the moment.

Trans women transferred to men’s prisons will obviously be at substantially greater risk of violence.

The same day—yes, all on Friday—Iowa Republicans announced a bill that, if successful, would remove ‘gender identity’ as a protected class in the Iowa Civil Rights Act, thus eliminating anti-discrimination protections for all transgender Iowans.

It would make Iowa the first state to remove a protected class from civil rights law.

Meanwhile, at the White House—yes, same exact day—Trump was speaking to a large, bipartisan group of governors and went after Maine Gov. Janet Mills from behind his podium.

“Is Maine Here? The governor of Maine?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said from her seat in the audience.

“Are you not going to comply with that?” Trump demanded of her, referencing the executive order he signed on Feb. 5th that bans trans girls and young women from competing on girls’ and women’s sports teams.

“I’m complying with the state and federal laws,” she responded.

“We are the federal law,” snapped Trump. “You better do it… You better comply , you better comply, because otherwise you’re not getting any federal funding.”

“See you in court,” she retorted from her seat.

“Good,” said Trump. “I’ll see you in court. I look forward to that. That should be a real easy one, and enjoy your life after governor, because I don’t think you’ll be in elected politics.”

It was yet another moment Trump attempted to intimidate elected officials across the political spectrum over trans issues.

On Saturday, Trump spoke to the 2025 Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC), where he took a victory lap for ending “transgender insanity.”

“It’s all out now — critical race theory and transgender insanity. It’s all gone from our schools and from our military and I believe it’s gone, too… I believe that it’s all gone.”

Today, Bill Maher appeared on the “Pod Saves America” podcast and argued with co-host Jon Lovett about trans issues, urging him that Democrats would “lose every election” if they don’t give up more on trans equality.

Side note here: anti-trans punditry that claims to be offering the “reasonable middle” argument always seems to intensely focus on what they don’t want.

There is never a good faith framing of what they believe should be legal. There are reasons for that: either they don’t actually believe in minimum rights for trans people or they fear being targeted by extremists for offering support for even a modicum of trans equality.

The relentless pace of anti-trans actions and rhetoric have become overwhelming.

That’s how I’m doing.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

I had the great pleasure of chatting with my dear friend, the incomparable, brilliant, and wonderful Shannon Watts, about the, um, state of Democratic politics at the moment.

And I promise, despite all the things, y’all will feel a bit better after watching.

Also: subscribe to Shannon’s blog. She’s a gem.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: [email protected].]

The state funeral for James Earl “Jimmy” Carter, Jr., the 39th President of the United States, was as well attended by dignitaries as one might expect — or hope.

Among the hundreds in attendance at the Washington National Cathedral were Presidents Biden, Obama, Bush, and Clinton; Vice Presidents Harris, Pence, Gore, and Quayle; Secretaries of State Clinton and Kerry; first and second spouses; Chief Justice Roberts and Associate Justices Sotomayor, Kagan, Kavanaugh, Barrett, and Jackson; current and former heads of government from Canada, Colombia, Japan, Portugal, and the United Kingdom; Prince Edward, Duke of Edinburgh; Antonio Guterres, Secretary General of the United Nations; and scores of senators and members of Congress and ambassadors and other luminaries.

I may be missing a notable name or two. Perhaps at least two. That is possible.

Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood sang “Imagine" — one of the late president’s favorite songs.

Steve Ford, the son of President Gerald Ford, whom Pres. Carter defeated in the 1976 election, delivered a beautiful eulogy in which he said to the Carter family: “God did a good thing when he made your dad.”

President Biden, in what is likely the final major public speech of his tenure, summed up President Carter in three words: “Character, character, character.”

It all felt right and good. It felt fitting. It felt rare and maybe fleeting. It felt like we may not see this kind of easy agreement across the political spectrum for a long time.

But with all due respect, it didn’t come close to matching the quiet and hardy adoration that could be observed in the previous 36 hours on the grounds of the U.S. Capitol and surrounding streets.

It is cold in D.C. this week, enough during the day to aggressively bundle up and enough at night to find any excuse to be indoors and immediately reject that one friend’s insane invite to go out for a drink, much less an evening stroll.

It is, for most of us, bitterly cold.

It is so cold—at least to this Texas gal—that nothing less than the threat to life and limb to a loved one would be enough to convince me to venture into the elements. It is so cold that “outside” is wholly inadequate and only the word “elements” carries a sufficiently adequate connotation.

Last night, at 9pm, the temperature was easily below 20 degrees with the wind chill. I understand some of you up north consider this balmy. You must understand that most of us think you’re crazy.

So, it was painfully cold and uninviting, and yet, even late into the night, there were thousands and thousands of people across all walks of life waiting in line outside for several hours just to enter the Capitol Rotunda for a few moments and walk around the flag-draped casket of one Jimmy Carter and pay their respects to a model human being.

There were those who were off for the federal holiday and those who came after a long day of work—suits and dresses and military uniforms—young and old, Democrats and Republicans and independents, the working class and the wealthy, entire families, all of them standing outside in the freezing cold for several hours.

That’s not an exaggeration. The wait was several hours. At best, one could reasonably hope to get through the line and the quick orbit within the Rotunda in just over three hours. Some folks waited longer, some as many as five hours depending on when they got in line.

When was the last time you waited five hours in line for anything? When was the last time you waited three hours in line? When was the last time you did this in the bone chilling cold? When was the last time you did this without any expectation of a tangible reward?

They all knew there was no material incentive to be had here. It wasn’t like everyone who made the journey got a cookie or gold star after leaving the Rotunda. There were no certificates of appreciation conferred upon completion. No dinner coupons. No drink tickets. No free t-shirts.

Need to use the restroom? Walk a few blocks to a nearby restaurant or bar and hope someone is kind enough to hold your spot in line.

It was so cold that even the usually familiar sight of phones capturing every angle of any given political event for social media was scarce. Gotta keep those hands warm.

People heard the updates. It’s gonna be three hours. Maybe four. Maybe five.

They stayed in line.

It wasn’t as though Pres. Carter could do anything for these thousands upon thousands of people who came to say goodbye beyond what he did for them in life, deeds already completed and offered without any assumption of reciprocity.

This man who hadn’t been president in more than four decades, who had a 31 percent approval rating the month he lost reelection, who was unfairly maligned for many years over his job performance, who was unjustly a punchline to much of the country afterward for so long after leaving office — it was this man they came to honor.

They stayed in line, freezing, probably hungry, probably needing to use the restroom at some point, many of them probably wishing they were at home with a hot beverage and blanket in hand.

They stayed in line.

This one-term president, who went back to his peanut farm after leaving office, who was detested by the bulk of D.C. political circles, who didn’t cash out and join a bevy of corporate boards, who didn’t feel it necessary to say what was popular or easy, who navigated his life thereafter as a private citizen with such grace and integrity that even his most ardent detractors had to tip their hats and acknowledge his decency.

I realize there are so many reasons to feel pessimistic about the future of our country at the moment, but if such decency is so honored as we’ve seen by everyday Americans on the ground in our Nation’s Capitol over these past few days, tell me that isn’t cause for hope.

Tell me that isn’t a glimmer of what we could still be.

Charlotte's Web Thoughts is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: [email protected].]

First of all, if you’re not online all the time and don’t understand the reference in the title, I’d like to congratulate you on your excellent mental health hygiene.

Nearly a decade ago, Twitter user Cavalorn put out a simple and clever joke that has become one of the all-time great memes, generally used in reference to people who vote against their own interests out of pettiness or bigotry or the belief that they’re special and exempt from consequences and then whine about those consequences when they find out they’re not so special after all.

Honestly, it might be the greatest micro-commentary on the Trump era, perfectly encapsulating the offense and incredulity of folks who support him when things don’t go their way.

Over the past several days, a vicious debate that had been brewing among Trump supporters regarding the visa program for highly skilled immigrant workers escalated when Vivek Ramaswamy—who is co-leading the adorably named Deparment of Government Efficiency (DOGE) with Elon Musk—inexplicably dropped a long rant on Twitter defending immigrant workers.

Mr. Ramaswamy was born in America to immigrant parents, and Mr. Musk is a first-generation immigrant.

As much as I can’t stand Vivek Ramaswamy because of his relentless pandering to the Trump base through the most cynical and opportunistic lens—practically speaking, he sounds like a desperate, watered down version of a Trump impersonation spat out by a beta version of ChatGPT—I don’t disagree with his larger points here.

He’s not wrong. There is a pervasive laziness and entitlement among many (white) American families who have been here for many generations that is thoroughly outshined and outpaced by immigrant families who arrive in this country ready to work hard to get what they want.

I don’t think that’s controversial to say. I think it’s previous obvious. I grew up in Central Texas around immigrant families from all over the world, and on balance, my peers from those families did work harder, were more ambitious, tended to get better grades, etc.

Now, are there generally critical nuances around ambition and belonging and mental health regarding children who are raised in immigrant communities that are important to note? Sure, but I’m definitely not the person to speak on that. Check out this primer from psychotherapist Imi Lo for a good place to start.

Anyway, Mr. Ramaswamy’s commentary is expressed in a way that’s cringey and distracting—the pop culture references are certainly ham-handed—but he’s not wrong on the overall points.

His thesis isn’t the problem. It’s his audience. Mr. Ramaswamy, who has gone all-in on a full MAGA true believer schtick—apparently forgot that Trump’s base have zero interest in hearing hard truths. None.

Sir, where do you think you are in the political landscape? Do you need a map and compass? This is the speech you give if you’re the main character in an Aaron Sorkin vehicle, not when you’re working for someone who was just elected on the most xenophobic and racist platform in modern history.

Let me ask you, Sir: don’t you think it’s a little strange that J.D. Vance, who made literally the same damn argument in the book that catapulted him to fame, the husband of an Indian American woman born to immigrant parents, hasn’t said anything about all this?

Why do you think that is? Do you think it’s possible that he understands your boss’s core supporters are pretty damn xenophobic and hypersensitive when presented with truths about the enduring mediocrity of many white Americans?

Listen, Mr. Ramaswamy: we aren’t gonna hear a peep about Hillbilly Elegy for the next four years. Mr. Vance would be thrilled if no one ever mentions it again.

There are reasons for that, Mr. Ramaswamy, and you know those reasons if you’re being completely honest with yourself.

Rarely have we seen a public figure so completely misread the room.

It would be like Hank Hill setting up a vendor booth for Strickland Propane at a PETA convention, which he would never do because Hank Hill is a Republican with common sense and sure as hell knows vegans aren’t his target demo for propane and propane accessories.

Hell, I’m a progressive trans woman, and I could have told Mr. Ramaswamy this attempted “come to Jesus” pitch to Trump supporters about American laziness and immigrant excellence was never gonna fly.

Predictably, the MAGA backlash has been swift and severe. Rightwing influencers across social media have been raking Mr. Ramaswamy and Mr. Musk across the coals for the past few days over the visa program and their support for immigrants in high skilled professions.

The notoriously unhinged Laura Loomer has been using her influence over the far-right to viciously blast Mr. Musk online.

More troublingly, the sheer racism against Indian Americans and immigrants that’s currently permeating rightwing spaces is disturbing, spurred by the obvious and entirely misplaced resentment of white Americans who are furious that people who don’t look like them and work harder are getting better jobs.

The open bigotry on display by the MAGA base has understandably unsettled many first- and second-generation immigrants who voted for Trump, like this gentleman who was apparently shocked to discover the backbone of the GOP is powered by racism.

Sir, you’re absolutely right about all this, but where the hell have you been?

We told y’all this would happen. Repeatedly. Incessantly. We could not have been more clear that this was inevitable.

I have no idea if Trump has specifically spoken out against the visa program for skilled immigrants—he probably has but I’m too lazy to look it up—but even if he hasn’t, his long record of racist and xenophobic pandering to his fans was always leading to this place.

Trump has made hundreds of statements over the years that were clearly racist, and the spiritual distance between those statements and this current mayhem is definitely shorter than the eighteen inches between the head and the heart.

It’s as though all these folks, including the gentleman above, intentionally voted for a proud arsonist and are now shocked to find kindling and matches being staged on their front doors.

Honestly, what did y’all think was gonna happen? Did you think the tech industry would get a pass? Did you think excellence would be enough to avoid the wrath of xenophobes?

Hell no.

Their whole thing is being xenophobic and racist, or did you miss when the leader of your party spent years accusing our first Black president, who was born in this country and raised by a white mother and white grandparents in a working class family, of being ineligible for the presidency because of the absurd, b******t, racist claim that he was born in Kenya?

We’re surprised that you’re surprised.

Maybe this will finally be enough for you to stay away from leopards because final piece of advice: their stomachs will never be full.

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