[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: cmclymer@gmail.com. And if this is too big of a commitment, I’m always thankful for a simple cup of coffee.]
On Wednesday night, at the Democratic National Convention, America was introduced to 17 year-old Gus Walz, the son of Gwen Walz and Gov. Tim Walz, who instantly became a national treasure due to an unexpectedly emotional moment of pride and joy for his father.
When Gov. Walz told his family, seated in front of the stage, that they were “his whole world,” the young man was so overcome with emotion that he stood up, tears streaming out of his eyes, pointed toward the podium, and shouted: “I love you, dad! That’s my dad!”
There was a collective sense in the United Arena that what we were witnessing was immediately iconic, even in a week with no shortage of iconic moments. I was on the third floor of seating, watching Gus loudly praise his father through tears on the big screen and instantly found myself tearing up.
I looked around me, and I wasn’t alone. Parents and their teenagers, old and young, across the gamut of America’s profile, were tearing up, too. It’s as though someone had pushed a button in all of us simultaneously.
Beyond Vice President Harris’s all-time great acceptance speech last night, it would be hard to identify a moment more unifying than the sight of Gus sobbing with joy and pride for his father.
Many Democrats, myself included, have jokingly referred to Gov. Walz as “America’s Dad” in light of his playful and endearing nature (see the viral clips bantering with their daughter Hope), but it wasn’t until Weds. evening that it really hit home how loving and wonderful a father he must be.
I didn’t know in that moment that Gus has a non-verbal learning disability, which basically means that he experiences the regulation of his emotions and the space around him atypically compared to most of the general population. It’s not a disorder; he just has a different lens on the world from most folks.
Truth be told: in that moment, I honestly didn’t know Gus is a teenager. I didn’t know much about Gus at all. Who goes randomly searching for info on a candidate’s child?
To my eyes, right then, watching Gus on the big screen, he looked like a tall, college-aged young man who was very proud of his father and unafraid to show it.
A number of rightwing commentators did not feel the same. Ann Coulter, famous for her sterling empathy, tweeted “Talk about weird…” in response to a clip of Gus’s moment, which she has since deleted.
She later wrote that she took it down because someone told her Gus is “austistc” (she misspelled autistic) and, of course, ranted about Democrats calling others weird.
Radio host Jay Weber tweeted: “Sorry, but this is embarrassing for both father and son. If the Walzs represent today's American man, this country is screwed.” Following a swift backlash, Mr. Weber tweeted an apology this morning:
“This is a fuller apology for something stupid and hurtful I said yesterday. I said it without thinking or having the facts. No excuses. Having been a teacher, I’ve had a standard of never involving children, I broke that and I’m disappointed with myself. I apologize to the Walz family and anyone who was offended. I feel horrible, I am so sorry.”
This rang more than a bit hollow when it was revealed that Mr. Weber has, in fact, involved children in the past. In 2015, he tweeted an article about a man offering numerous cattle as a dowry for then-16-year-old Malia Obama, with the caption: “It’s not a bad deal.”
I’ll be completely honest in that I find this all especially weird because the red line for these very sad people somehow wasn’t to refrain from saying something like that in the first place.
The rightwing's mocking of Gus Walz is especially disgusting because he's a kid and neurodivergent, of course, but even if he were a neurotypical, grown man, why is a son crying with joy and pride for his father seen as anything other than a wonderful moment?
These people--particularly the men--are so cemented in their repressed feelings and ignored trauma and mocking of vulnerability that they honestly think a son openly adoring his father is somehow bad.
And while they're at it, they'll have the gall to tell you that Christ is their North Star.
Did Jesus not publicly weep with joy and pride in His Father? Did they not read that part of the Bible? Did Jesus not say that the meek shall inherit the earth and that humility is a righteous state and that children should honor their parents?
I swear, if these people never talked a big game about supposedly loving Christ, their actions would never indicate to me that they know anything about Him.
Regardless of all this, I don’t feel sorry for Gus Walz. He doesn’t need my sympathy.
A young man who has that much confidence and strength in his own skin, so much that he readily and tearfully cheers for his father on national television, doesn’t need any pity from the rest of us. If anything, we should be following his lead.
On Thursday morning, I attended the Women for Harris Brunch, where hundreds of ladies gathered to hear Mrs. Walz talk about the campaign and a vision for our country and our nation’s children.
When she mentioned Gus, the entire venue of women spontaneously broke out in a chant of his name for several moments as Mrs. Walz beamed with pride and misty eyes. It was a truly wonderful moment and a highlight of a week that will be long remembered for the joy on display throughout.
We weren’t chanting his name because we feel sorry for him. We were chanting his name because we wish some men in this country who seem weirdly obsessed with masculinity had as much strength and confidence as Gus. We wish they would care more about being good human beings than blustering, insecure caricatures.
We adore Gus because even at such a young age, he’s already figured out a basic lesson that still eludes millions of grown men in this country: cheering on your loved ones and tearing up with joy for them is what a strong man looks like.
Keep being you, Gus. The world needs it.
I Don't Feel Sorry for Gus Walz