How do I know I have privilege? I've survived the last 4 years

Donald Trump has taught me how lucky I am.

I have spent a considerable amount of time this morning thinking about how I could capture the last four years in today’s article. That sentence alone should answer my question.

If picking the right angle for my Substack piece is my biggest problem on Election Day, then I am doing all right.

Above all else, Donald Trump has taught me how lucky I am.

The last four years have been a never-ending nightmare for so many people in this country. Imagine being transgender and waking up one morning to see the President of the United States boasting about banning you from the military; imagine being a woman and reading about the President of the United States being accused of sexual misconduct at least 26 times; imagine being Black and hearing the President of the United States question Barack Obama’s birthplace, or publicly lambast the value of your life?

Imagine being one of the 545 migrant children who are still separated from their parents.

Fretting about content is quite the luxury.

Don’t get me wrong: I am not cavalier about the prospect of a second Trump term. I think the remaining semblances of our democracy would erode, and if Trump is able to prematurely declare victory and steal the election — which is his reported plan — than it already has. As a gay man, I am frightened at the prospect of at least 220 Trump-appointed justices sitting on our federal courts for the bulk of my lifetime, including three on the Supreme Court who may play deciding roles in overturning landmark civil rights cases.

I am also petrified at the prospect of no more Covid relief getting passed through Congress, leaving at least 30 million unemployed and underemployed Americans at risk of starvation and homelessness. If the Supreme Court strikes down the Affordable Care Act, tens of millions of people could lose their health insurance in the midst of a pandemic.

On some of those points, I’m fortunate to live in Massachusetts, where my rights and healthcare are protected. Once again, my zip code has bailed me out.

I’ve made some money off Trump, and his presidency has been an overwhelming positive for my career. I’m not sure if I would’ve been a regular on WEEI at 23 years old if Hillary Clinton had gotten elected to the Oval Office, and the sports talk radio station went back to strictly talking sports.

Trump’s presence broke down all previous barriers in sports coverage, opening up the possibilities beyond bullpens and trade deadlines. While sports have always been political, they have never always been political, if you catch my drift. For one whole year, it was impossible to talk about the NFL without mentioning the president calling kneeling Black players “sons of bitches.”

This summer, amidst a pandemic and nationwide racial reckoning, sports and politics intertwined like never before. At one of Trump’s closing rallies this week, the crowd chanted, “LeBron James sucks!”

Stick to sports is dead. Selfishly, as somebody who likes to write and opine about sports and politics, that’s been a good thing for me.

Trump angers me, enrages me, and embarrasses me. But he hasn’t personally affected me.

I don’t like my chances of lasting another four years. But on this Election Day, I’m blessed to still primarily be dealing in hypotheticals.

So many people in our country have already lost so much, and can never get it back.