My New Hat

Six weeks ago I bought a hat. The hat is navy blue and says WARREN.

I’m nervous every time I wear the hat.

I posted a photo of myself wearing the hat to Facebook. Over 100 friends (and a few family members) approved. My aunt PM’d to ask me to unfriend my uncle before things got ugly IMO things had already gotten ugly). Another aunt posted, as is her wont, about the excellent healthcare coverage senators get that no one else can get.

I wore my hat and realized, throughout August and early September, that no one seemed to know what “WARREN” meant. No one looked twice.

But then they did. Last week, I wore my hat to the meat market. I was nervous about it. I love the meat market guys. I saw my favorite butcher’s face fall, before he recomposed himself. He was wearing a white paper hat.

He was friendly, but not, as he usually is, flirtatious. I would say he was professional. He got me my ham, my salami, asked if I needed anything else. A butcher in back openly scowled.

I bought my hat because of the red hats from 2016. I feel the need for more boldness. I feel the need to be bold and to represent. I feel the need to say that “yes,” I believe WARREN can win in 2020. I live in Michele Bachmann’s former district. I live in a place where I volunteer tutoring Somali women in English and help them get their community garden planted. I live in a place that has been on national radio for its xenophobia and attempts to limit immigration. I am a person whose views the president of my country despises.

In a neighboring state, a male motorist with a bumper sticker that said TRUMP pulled alongside a female motorist with a bumper sticker that said WARREN and said ugly things to her. Then he pulled a handgun and threatened her with it. Later, when he was arrested, he said he was flirting with her. The election is one year from now.

I am a person with tremendous privilege, including the privilege of uncomplicated and positive relationships throughout my community. And the privilege to wear my new hat.