Aren’t you tired? A letter to his diehard supporters

Trump flag in Pearl City, Hawaii. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

Dear diehard Trump supporters,

Aren’t you tired?

I mean really—aren’t you exhausted?

You’ve spent the better part of a decade foaming at the mouth over people you don’t even know.

You’re mad at drag queens, teachers, librarians, immigrants, scientists, athletes, fact-checkers, and anyone who can pronounce “empathy” without breaking into hives.

You’ve built an entire political identity out of seething at Starbucks cups, bathrooms signs, and the terrifying notion that women might know what’s best for their own uteruses.

Isn’t it heavy? Carrying that much rage around all day?

You’re angry at gay people for loving each other, angry at trans people for existing, angry at Black people for not staying in the background like the “good ol’ days,” and angry at the idea that your guns don’t give you godlike authority over the rest of us.

And for what?

You chant “freedom” while backing a man who thinks “due process” is optional and “the press” is the enemy.

You cry “patriotism” while waving flags of sedition.

You scream “liberty” while dreaming of a country where a woman needs permission to make a doctor’s appointment, where books are burned and history is rewritten in whiteout.

Your spiritual fuel has become spite.

You’ve been told by a demigod that your problems are because of them—whoever they are this week: migrants, Muslims, college kids, climate scientists, vaccinated people, people with pronouns.

But you know what the cruel joke is?

While you’re busy burning down the village to stop a kid from reading Toni Morrison, the billionaires are laughing all the way to offshore banks.

So again, I ask: aren’t you tired?

Aren’t you tired of boiling in a pot of resentment every time someone gets a right you didn’t want in the first place?

Tired of defending a man who wouldn’t cross the street to spit on you if you were on fire—unless it boosted his poll numbers?

It’s okay to let go.

You don’t have to be this angry forever.

You don’t have to treat decency like a liberal conspiracy.

You don’t have to pretend that compassion is weakness or that cruelty is policy.

You could rest.

You could reflect.

You could rejoin humanity.

But that would take courage—and you’ve been taught to confuse that with wearing a red hat and shouting over everyone.

So maybe the better question isn’t are you tired—but are you brave enough to stop being afraid of everything that isn’t you?

Sincerely,

Someone you probably hate—but who still hopes you find peace.