What Are My Redlines?

What Are Yours?

When Donald Trump was first elected to the White House in 2016, I wasn’t nearly as alarmed as most of my friends. The guy, I figured, is a New Yorker. He used to be kind-of-sort-of liberal, notwithstanding the racism. All he really cares about is golden toilet seats, glamorous women, and seeing his name in big letters. How bad can he be?

With his reelection — popular vote and all — I’ve learned my lesson, and now I’m more alarmed than I probably should be. So I’m forcing myself to ask myself (meanwhile reading Peter Fritzsche’s Hitler’s First Hundred Days): What are my redlines? How deeply would Trumpism have to penetrate my personal bubble for me to call it quits with America at age 73?

If he rounds up and deports thousands of immigrants — which I’m sure he will do, including, very possibly, the Afghan families whom I worked hard to help settle in my neck of the woods over the past two years — will that set me packing? Probably not. But would I offer to shelter them, to hide and feed them? I’d have to think very hard about it, especially since my house has only 1,200 square feet of room. It would probably depend on the penalties for doing so: I won’t go to jail in the name of resistance, I’d leave the country first.

What if Attorney General Matt “Goonie” Gaetz arrests Nancy Pelosi and other Democrats — which Trump may command, but I don’t think such mishegos would extend beyond Congressional hearings — would that alarm me enough to put my affairs in order? What if Trump declares a state of emergency and makes clear his intention to suspend the 2026 or 2028 elections?

Fortunately, he’s already 78 years old (Hitler was 43 when he declared his state of emergency) . . . but Trump is by no means the only fascist in town . . .

What if the army is suddenly used to suppress street demonstrations? What if rightwing militias start beating or even killing people with impunity? What if Bernie Sanders or Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez were suddenly, mysteriously, poisoned? Will I just keep my distance from the violence or hightail it out of here?

I’ve done a fair amount of anti-Trump artwork and publishing over the past decade, but I fly under just about every radar as a bona fide “little known.” What if more prominent artists, comedians, or writers face arrest or defunding or other punishments for their oppositional work? What if I suddenly feel very nervous about the pro-immigration banner at the edge of my property, or the “Let Them In” sign on my front door? What if my house is vandalized by local creeps?

Nobody I know wants to have this conversation — they’re all heartsick and seeking some temporary peace of mind. But I don’t want to be a German Jew who overnight has to dissolve his property for cheap in order to flee the Third Reich. I’d rather flee in style — to view it as an adventure, a something-to-do-for-the-rest-of-my-life. And I want to have the opportunity to convince a few people I love to do it with me! So I’m asking myself — and I’m asking them— about redlines. And I’m reading Hitler’s First Hundred Days, and pondering the analogies. And I’m investigating what it costs to buy health insurance as a non-citizen in various European countries . . .

Sad to say — very sad to say — it’s easier for me to contemplate leaving my country than it is to contemplate saving my country. As a student of history and a lover of so much about America, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I have to be honest: Faced with fascism, if that’s what we’ve elected, I will pack up my privilege and live out my old age in a social democracy, rather than driving to Washington DC to have my old skull cracked.

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ALTE is mounting an art-and-poetry show at the Puffin Gallery in Teaneck, NJ, with an opening on Saturday, December 14th at 4 pm. Save the date! Details to follow.

Also, our new issue, on the theme “Father,” is now posted at the Alte website. Have a look!