This column was in the SF Chronicle about a week ago and is perfect for this thread. The author, an opinion columnist and cultural critic, travelled to a county fair in Illinois and this is how she reported on it.
I took a trip to Trump country. It was more bleak than I could have imagined
Like a lot of folks who live in rural America, my extended family considers the local county fair in their corner of Illinois the biggest event of the summer. All year, they fantasize about the rides, the charcoal-kissed meat skewers and the stall that churns out fried cheese curds, those little molten pebbles enrobed in crisp chambers of light-as-air batter. They circle that curd stand like a menacing school of sharks as they take in the surrounding attractions, stopping over every so often to re-up on greasy, cheesy fuel. In recent years, they’ve even taken to entering the fair’s contests — the Olympics of Boone County. And they’ve since collected plenty of award ribbons for photography, cookies, crafts and giant garden-grown vegetables.
If this all sounds like a wholesome bit of Americana, I once thought so, too.
I used to go to the fair with them when I was a kid, back when I had to beg an adult to buy me yet another butter-slicked cob of roasted corn. Eventually, I grew up, moved to the other side of the country, and started skipping the fair for other summer plans.
https://www.sfchronicle.com/opinion...staurant-service-fees-california-19589069.php
This month, I went back after two decades away to see what I’d been missing.
Everything was basically the same, from the cheese curds to the moaning herds of wooly sheep — except this time, the fair was feeling a little … weird.
Along with corny fair merch and anime ponchos, every, and I mean
every T-shirt stall was draped with Trump flags: “I’m voting for the felon,” “F— Biden” and the relatively anodyne, “I’m With Trump.” While browsing the pet supply shop across from the local Republican Party’s stall, I saw GOP staff greeted with cheers and raised fists — echoing Donald Trump’s triumphant pose after the assassination attempt on him — by numerous fairgoers wearing red caps and “Ultra MAGA” shirts. “Boo, Kambala!” yelled a woman, laughing.
In packed queues for roasted corn, I squeezed past parents balancing their children’s plastic lemonade cups in their arms with “Trump/Vance 2024” lawn signs tucked under their armpits. “Nice sign!” one blonde, elementary school-age girl shouted above the din, with her thumbs up at a woman holding one of them.
One of my cousins saw clusters of young men walking the grounds in floral Hawaiian shirts, which have recently become an
unfortunate sartorial symbol of the far-right “boogaloo” movement, a militant group that aims to incite a second Civil War. I asked my cousin if he was sure about this because the idea seemed completely absurd. Maybe it’s just a bunch of dorky kids, I thought. But my cousin grew up there and probably went to school with their parents — he was sure.
I was just trying to have a chill time looking at show rabbits. But I was bombarded by right-wing politics.
Recent polls show a decline in support for Donald Trump among many voters after Vice President Kamala Harris’ dramatic emergence as this year’s Democratic presidential nominee. That includes
key swing states like North Carolina and Georgia, where Trump, once the favorite to win the election, is
now tied with Harris. In swing states, many white working-class voters, who had been a reliable source of support for the GOP, have
switched over to Harris. And her running mate, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, has been working double-time to
win swing state votes.
But even in a reliably blue state like Illinois, you wouldn’t know it from walking around the county fairgrounds.
I know it’s just T-shirts. It’s just signs. But it was unnerving all the same to be among so many people so in thrall to the politics of white resentment that it’s seeped into something as casual and family-friendly as a county fair. If MAGA is winning any political contests these days, it’s clearly dominating the merch category.
Living in the Bay Area, it’s easy to forget that pockets of deep-red space exist everywhere in the United States. But I knew better than to be utterly shocked. My family, mostly Democrats or otherwise apolitical, are pragmatic about politics: This is their home. They quietly listen to the daily political rants and ravings about crime, immigrants and “transes” from MAGA colleagues, neighbors and friends, hoping for any opportunity to pivot to the weather. The truth is, if you cut and run in a place like this, you won’t have any friends left.
I’m reminded of how LGBT people, by virtue of merely existing in public, have been accused of
“grooming” or indoctrinating young people. Or how merely mentioning actual historical events in schools or workplaces is seen as an
intrusion of a radical political agenda. The Bay Area has plenty of political conflict of its own to work out, but I don’t have to worry about being hate-crimed by someone wearing a “Notorious RBG” shirt. People might be politically passionate here, but they can generally be normal about it.
Walk around a place like that Illinois county fair and you’ll see that MAGA comes off like an addiction — an obsession that seems much more emotional than rational. It’s the mean-spirited aspect of America, one that looks upon people like my refugee family as a lesser-than group, even if we might be tolerated individually. It’s heartbreaking to be around, knowing that there’s little logic or data that can dislodge a thorn that’s been absorbed so thoroughly.
On my final visit to the six-day fair, we went to the rodeo, a traditionally gladiatorial extravaganza of bull riding and barrel racing. The event, like many rodeos, began with a prayer, but with a political twist: The emcee asked the audience to pray that “those in the White House” would raise their hands in praise of the Christian God.
By the time the crowd pulled off their hats and launched into a singalong of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” I’d had enough. I stayed seated, head in my hands, and waited for the bulls to come charging out of their pens.
Reach Soleil Ho (they/them): soleil@sfchronicle.com; Twitter: @hooleil