I wrote How Many Trump Supporters Does It Take to Screw in a Lightbulb because I felt scared about the Trump phenomenon and also hope to shamelessly cash in on it. I’m being sarcastic. I wanted to put the feelings of angst and anger to rest. I am frightened of his misogyny and racism. I am scared that he will be a dictator and take away some very basic freedoms. I am scared of all of that and, as an artist, I wanted to deal with it in my own way.
This is very much a for me kind of book. I would want other people to pay to read it, of course. I care if you like it, of course. I’m a bit of a narcissist. What writer isn’t? I feel I have something interesting to say and want you to be interested in it too. However, I really wanted to put Trump to rest. I’m sick of the media surrounding him. I’m sick of the rabid crowds surrounding him. I’m sick of white privilege.
I am a daughter of an immigrant from Italy. My mother’s family came over in 1956. My grandparents never really assimilated or learned the language. They tried, but they didn’t. I respect immigrants no matter where they come from or how they got here. I am married to a man who has Mexican heritage. I love his family and him and my part-Mexican daughter. I hate that Trump lumps all Mexicans together. My mother-in-law’s family has been here longer than my family has been and they are hard-working, good people with strong values.
I am also a fat woman. I am Trump’s worst nightmare. I am not a ten. Oh fucking well. Too bad. I am proud of who I am. I earned my life. I am also disabled. I struggle with bipolar disorder and fibromyalgia and when he made fun another disabled American I was horrified.
I don’t understand his popularity. I don’t get the Trump phenomenon and I hope he doesn’t make it all the way to the White House. I hope my book might make someone rethink a vote for Trump. If not, oh well. At least, I did something about my fear.