Ku Klux Klowns

I had a very strange encounter a few weekends ago.  My wife and I were walking with one of my daughters and my sister in Washington, DC, near GW University.  My daughter and my sister were a little ahead of us, and at one point as we caught up with them, I realized that they – now we – had encountered a small group of white men (about 25 of them?), all in similar attire & many with some sort of flag (I’m not sure what was on the flags because they were all rolled up).  They had gathered to conduct some sort of protest or march.  It was a group of white supremacists.
 
My daughter and my sister are no shrinking violets, so as my wife and I approached, I know that they had made their voices heard.  As a result, the white supremacists started pounding their flag poles on the sidewalk, and they started chanting the “F” word at us.  I still can’t figure what that was all about –obviously some sort of intimidation.  It was bizarre.  It was very sad and disturbing.
 
Regrettably, my own community experienced similar hatred just yesterday when some Ku Klux Klowns galumphed into Charlottesville.  I was out of town, so I did not witness their ignorance and revulsion first hand.  Still, it was a bit surreal to see the images in the news.
​

I’m not naïve to think that people like this don’t exist in our society, but certain conditions over the recent past have allowed such groups to feel empowered.  I tend to think that much of this can be traced back to a particular event in June 2015.
 
I am truly ashamed about what has happened to our country since then, about how extremist and bigots feel so emboldened and about such movements are not quashed by our leaders.  Instead, these people seem to be accepted, embraced and normalized.
 
In truth, their repugnance is a disrespect to all of us – a line straight out of a poem by Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson’s third cousin, twice removed – at her request).  I don’t know if the poem “How ignorant is he” (below on the left) would inspire any of these hooded morons to change their perspectives, but it did inspire third cousin Emily to pen her poem “How destitute is he” (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
How ignorant is he
Whose Hell is firm
Who flaunts it every time
The small stale Scum –
Whose Hate is but his Pride
On such display
And is a disrespect
To All of us.

By Emily Dickinson:
 
How destitute is he
Whose Gold is firm
Who finds it every time
The small stale Sum –
When Love with but a Pence
Will so display
As is a disrespect
To India.

​Below:  June 2015:  Our political discourse began its downward descent.