Inauguration
Day: This Is The Beginning, Where Does It End?
Words, Photographs & Video By
Robert Aaron Mitchell
The days
following the 2016 election, I was a swirling vortex of emotions. My emotions
were a pendulum swinging from profound sadness to anger. I physically felt the
schism and paradigm shift of the country. Through the great political divide,
there was one feeling that united all of us: uncertainty. This country was drifting
into unknown waters.
People began
to gather in streets all over America. As much as I appreciate the cardboard
signs and the hash tag #NotMyPresident that sentiment would go out the window
as of noon on January 20th, 2017 when Donald Trump would place his hand
on not one but two bibles and take the oath and become the 45th
President of the United States of America.
My decision
to head to Washington D.C. to attend the 58th inauguration of the United States
of America was made at 3:30 in the morning while I was battling a cold. Once
friends got word of this trip I started to field several texts and messages
inquiring why I was going. Why indeed? First and foremost I felt compelled to
stand on the grounds of the U.S. Capitol building to bear witness to this
transfer of power. There was another pull more powerful. I wanted to stand in
uncomfortable closeness with a large group of people that I one hundred percent
disagreed with on this one major decision, the candidate they voted for. I also
wanted a trip that would take me through the northern rustbelt aka the “blue
curtain.” And finally, I wanted a trip that would kick my ass. The journey home
to Bloomington, Indiana from D.C. on Greyhound would be over 35 hours. This
inauguration trip would not disappoint all of these expectations.
Sunrise & Sirens
The morning
began with the phone alarm belonging to one of the 6 people in the hostel room
going off in seven-minute intervals. From my top bunk beside the window the sky
was beginning to lighten. The constant sirens of law enforcement and motorcades
moving through the city filled the room. There is a definite non-stop mojo in
Washington D.C. By the 4th time the phone alarm went off, I decided I would get
into a shower before everyone else in the hostel woke up. It was 5:30am. I then
packed for the day, stashed my backpack in a locker, and headed out into the
street in search for coffee. For a January day, the temperature was bearable. I
wore a light jacket and T-shirt throughout the day and night.
Police drove
by me on motorcycles, lights and sirens in full effect. By the coffee shop I
saw the first of many military vehicles. Today was to be a peaceful transfer of
power but make no mistake it would also be a show of force. The crowds of
people and merchandise sellers began to appear as I approached Washington Union
Station. I saw punks with “Fuck Trump” signs, a guy dressed as Captain America. I began to see many,
many “Make America Great Again” red hats. More and more signs. “I Voted For
Trump I Swear No Russian Told Me To” “Open The Valve, Drain That Swamp!” “Fight
Racism Not Russia And China” “Hands Off My Pussy Donald.” I saw a giant pickup
truck, which was covered in decals claiming it was the official Trump truck. As
I passed by it, I remarked to a random guy walking nearing me, “This guy has
his name branded on even more shit.”
As I neared
the gate I was supposed to enter, I was told to proceed to another entrance. It
turns out protesters were being successful—at least at this one checkpoint—in
stopping people from entering the Capitol grounds. I finally arrived at the
spot my ticket gave me access to. People kept filling in. It became unbearably
crowded. There was three hours before the inauguration was set to begin.
Dignitaries
began to be announced signaling we were getting closer to the start. George W. Bush received a grand ovation. Bill
and Hillary Clinton did not. People around me began chanting, “Lock her up!
Lock her up!” When the Trump children arrived, the crowd started chanting
“Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump.” As we continued to wait, someone shouted out “Are
we going to get tired of winning?” The response back, “Nooooo!” Every once in a
while something would happen in the sea of people that would set off a round of
boos clashing with the music of John Philip Sousa that filled the air. I assumed it was a protestor but I was never sure. The beginning of
“Hail To The Chief” began. “Ladies and Gentlemen, The President of the United
States, the Honorable Barack H. Obama.” A large round of cheers and clapping
and an equal amount of boos. Then the chant of “Na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey,
goodbye” started. In the moments leading up to Donald Trump’s entrance, the
crowd began shouting, “Trump! Trump! Trump!” “U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A!” Each
letter shouted out, its own celebratory and vengeful roar. Let there be no doubt, we won! This is
our country again.
The vibe was strange and made me
feel sad. “Ladies and Gentlemen the President-elect Donald John Trump.” A wave
of cheers and chants.
The most profound moment of
Inauguration Day for me was Chuck Schumer’s speech:
“Today
we celebrate our democracy and a peaceful transfer of power. And we stand up
for democratic principles enshrined in the constitution. The rule of law, equal
protections for all under law, freedom of speech, press, religion, the things
that make America, America.”
Then Senator Schumer read from a
civil war letter of Major Sullivan Ballou to his wife Sarah. The Major would
die a week later in the first battle of Bull Run. What made the Senator’s speech
remarkable were not the words he spoke; it was a good speech. No, what made
these five minutes remarkable to me was the reaction of the crowd. The crowd
had been showing their disdain anytime someone from the Democratic party was
introduced, but now it was a full-on frenzy of antipathy. Here was a speech
speaking of our differences and the extraordinariness of Americans during extremely
difficult and divisive circumstances. The Inauguration crowd chanted over this
call for unity with more chants of Trump and U-S-A. It was an ugly scene. One I
will not forget. As the words of a civil war hero were read the crowd continued
to jeer and then chants of “Drain The Swamp, Drain The Swamp!” “Get off the
stage!” “We want Trump, We want Trump!” The crowd cheered when he was done—not
for the speech but for his leaving the stage to the opening strains of “America,
the Beautiful”. As the song finished, Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. was
announced to administer the Presidential oath of office.
As the oath was being said there
was a small but loud contingent of detractors blowing whistles and yelling. It
was not lost upon me that the Trump Hotel here in D.C. was 1.3 miles from where
we were standing.
After Mr. Trump repeated the
final words of the oath, “So help me God”, the first of the twenty-one cannon
salute began. It was loud. I jumped. Then the rain started. It was a remarkable
moment of pathetic
fallacy. The person who should have never been President was now the leader of
the free world. The cannons continued and the rain kicked up in intensity.
The 45th
President of the United States then took to the podium and with great
conviction began the most dire inauguration speech in this country’s history.
When I heard the words “American Carnage,” it sent a chill down my spine. As he
uttered the words, “America First,” I was extremely unsettled. The words and
the tone of this speech were ominous, bleak, and sinister. What made it more intense and chilling for me was that it was met
with thunderous applause and cheers. Then there were prayers.
As the first notes of the Star
Spangled Banner stirred, I joined the crowd of people trying to leave the
Capitol grounds. By this time my legs were very stiff. The sea of red hats
began to intersperse with the protestors. I continued to walk and walk. I took
photograph after photograph of the people all around me. Another profound
moment for me was when the noise of a helicopter was roaring above me and I
looked up and it was Marine One carrying the Obamas out of Washington D.C. Some
in the larger crowd around me, once again, took up the refrain, “Na na na, hey
hey, hey, goodbye!”
As the day waned and I continued
to talk and walk on near empty streets among supporters and detractors of our
new President, it struck me that we are all a part of this great human drama. Mostly
everyone was peaceful. I witnessed only one act of a Trump supporter trying to
shout over a woman holding a sign, “Queers Against Fascism” who was talking to
a camera crew.
The Journey Home
Just before
midnight at Union Station, I boarded my first Greyhound coach bus home. By now,
I was riding a wave of sheer exhaustion. I was very much looking forward to
sleeping as we began to depart D.C. That was not going to happen. One of the
last people to board was a woman who was talking loudly. She kept bouncing from
seat to seat to seat and finally sat beside some guy. All the while she was talking
and talking and talking. I put headphones on and cranked my music. I tried to
drift off.
We arrived
in Baltimore. Some people got off and some people got on. A woman sat beside me.
We spoke briefly. She was bound for Detroit. The bus rumbled to life once again.
The lights dimmed and we resumed our middle of the night trek through America.
We were somewhere in
the middle of Pennsylvania when a prolonged shouting match began on the bus. The
woman beside me yelled at the nonstop talking woman, “Shut the fuck up! People
are trying to sleep!” I woke up and turned off my music. The nonstop talking
woman responded, “Bitch, I just got of prison! I will fuck you up!” The woman
beside me then said, “You can go back to prison." Try as I might I could
not suppress my urge to laugh at this last comment. It was now on. The shouting
and name-calling escalated. Finally the bus driver turned the bus to the side
of the highway in the middle of nowhere and intervenes. He then seated the
nonstop talking woman at the front of the bus. We then proceeded to a rest stop
and the woman has now been kicked off the bus. Our fifteen minutes has turned
into an hour. The police arrived and questioned the two women. America can be a
rough room.
The bus finally
rumbled to a start. My bleary eyes then continued to look out the giant window
beside me into the darkness. My mind was processing and reflecting on what I
had witnessed in these two days in D.C. My heart was indeed heavy. What I saw
were a lot of good people taken in by an orange carnival barker of hate. A man
who had promised to take on a system of which he had personally benefitted from
enormously.
There are
many people who do not care who the President is in any given year. A lot of
folks are jaded and skeptical. They see no remarkable change in between
elections. But apathy does not stave off effect. Invisible lives in tough
circumstances will struggle to survive, as conditions only get tougher. I sense
that this country is sliding into something insidious. The great fleecing of
America has begun. We all lost and the greed-heads have taken over one hundred
percent. I do not have much hope right now. The only solace I have is that
there are millions of us fighting for justice. We must continue to fight the
good fight. The people and ideals of this country are far too important to give
up on.
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