I’ve never been much of a button person, so it was something of a sea change when I sought out Harris merch. I’m putting those particular buttons away in a drawer now, but there are some, pictured here, that still might be needed. One is reasonably level-headed. The other two, gifted to me, are more . . . emphatic. Exclamatory. Combative? Well, coarse.
The surprising function of the Harris/Walz buttons, to me, had less to do with a declaration than an invitation. Traveling in swing states, in a restaurant or on the street, “I like your button” was often the beginning of a small conversation. I had dozens such, just by virtue of being recognizable and being willing to converse. The buttons served as a mild signal, and a pathway. Without them, I don’t think these conversations would have happened. I remember them, and their frequency, and the pleasure of brief bonding with like-minded strangers.
It’s not clear to me what conversations might be engendered by the buttons pictured here, or what the tenor of those conversations might be.
We lost. But we do not yield the floor. We claim the sacred right to speak our minds (and the symbolism of the American flag, which cannot be co-opted.) Not everywhere is red. The rest of us are still here, just as patriotic, just as much in love with our country, without laboring under any delusion about its perfection. The ship of state may veer from what we think its proper course, but we are not merely passengers and not merely passive.
A new acquaintance, as we were commiserating post-election, reminded me of the Eric Holder addition to the profound truth of Dr. Martin Luther King, who said “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Holder, the first African-American to serve as the U.S. Attorney General, said in a 2016 interview “The arc only bends toward justice because people pull it towards justice. It doesn’t happen on its own.”
Look around for the like-minded, with or without buttons. We’re going to have to find a way to pull.