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I love baseball. It’s my favorite sport to watch. I’ve enjoyed the World Series every year for as long as I can remember.
Some of you aren’t into baseball. Some of you find it incredibly boring, which is completely understandable. America’s national pastime isn’t for everyone. There are long stretches during which, on its face, there’s no obvious excitement on the field.
If you love baseball, every moment is interesting because the intricacies are quite fun to watch. The dueling between pitcher and batter—the competing strategies—alone is fascinating.
Anyway, this year is particularly fascinating because of the storylines.
The Los Angeles Dodgers and the New York Yankees are facing off in the World Series for the 12th time in the history of their storied rivalry, which stretches back to when the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn.
Playing for the Dodgers are Shohei Ohtani, widely considered the best ballplayer since the days of Josh Gibson and Babe Ruth (some think he’s the greatest ever) and the phenomenal Mookie Betts and the electrifying Freddie Freeman.
Playing for the Yankees are Aaron Judge, one of the greatest hitters in the game, and Giancarlo Stanton (also one of the greatest hitters in the game) and Juan Soto (also one of the greatest hitters in the game).
Two of the most iconic franchises in baseball representing the two biggest media markets in the country, with numerous likely-future-Hall-of-Famers on the field, a jaw-dropping 34 World Series titles between them (though the Dodgers have a mere seven of those), and it’s all very, very fun for baseball fans.
So, it’s not surprising that 16.28 million viewers saw last night’s Game 4 (the winner goes to best-of-7 for you non-baseball folks), the highest single game viewership for the World Series since 2019, contributing to the highest average World Series viewership for a series since 2017.
And, of course, I’m watching. It’s delicious. It’s a beautiful drip of serotonin in a year of political and existential morass when I could use the distraction from all that’s awful.
But then the commercials come, and during just about every break, it’s the same campaign ad: a disembodied, angry voice essentially tells 16 million viewers that trans people are the cause of their problems, that “Kamala is for they/them, President Trump is for you.”
It’s the same ad aired during NFL games and NCAA football games and other sporting events, and if you’re a trans person who loves sports like I do—and I really love sports—it profoundly sucks to be bombarded with this hateful rhetoric, day after day, for many weeks now.
Transphobia is so open and commonplace these days that it’s easy to become somewhat desensitized to it. There’s the campaign rhetoric. There are political articles. There are talking heads. There are bans. There are court cases. There’s street harassment. There’s online harassment. There are death threats.
There’s the overwhelming sense that millions of people in the United States truly wish that the trans community would simply disappear, by any means possible.
That much is obvious.
But what doesn’t get nearly enough attention these days—and I firmly believe this as strongly as anything—is that the vast majority of the country does not support transphobia.
I know that’s hard for some folks to accept. It’s a close election, and if the polls are to be believed (and I am quite skeptical of polls), nearly half of likely voters support a presidential ticket that is stridently anti-trans. Ergo, I am supposed to accept that half the country hates the existence of the trans community.
But I don’t accept that. I don’t think it’s true because I’ve had numerous conversations with conservatives—some of them Trump supporters—who don’t have anything against trans people specifically.
Some probably think I shouldn’t say that because if someone is supporting an anti-trans candidate, does it really matter if their support isn’t because of any transphobia on their part?
Totally fair question. I think it does matter. Although anecdotal, the conversations I’ve had with these folks signal, at minimum, a lot of hope for transphobia becoming less prevalent over time in the near future.
But that’s not why I’m talking about this ad. Because it’s honestly not an issue that I believe will be effective in this election despite the GOP’s firm belief that most Americans care about this more than other central topics.
Because I believe most Americans, regardless of political beliefs, will not be voting based on their personal feelings toward trans people. They just won’t. Republican leadership have woefully miscalculated the effectiveness of disgusting bigotry as an electoral motivator.
It’ll drive out a lot of the GOP’s base, sure, but it’s not the kinda thing that resonates with most Americans.
If anything, I believe that most Americans are repulsed and incredulous that considerable space is being given to this issue, in the final stretch of the election, that could far more effectively address the actual struggles of working class families.
It’s why I’m glad that Vice President Harris and Gov. Walz are laser-focused on the struggles facing all working class families. It’s why I’m glad their messaging is about uniting the country and saving democracy and lifting people up. The contrast is powerful and most importantly: it will win the election.
Regardless, the ads do work in quite a visceral way: for those who already hate trans people, it’s further enabling their bigotry. It’s further encouraging the blatant and searing dehumanization of trans people among a segment of the population who are already inclined to consider us sub-human.
The ads are building an obvious permission structure for virulently anti-trans people to treat us like we are unworthy of protection against violence and discrimination.
I’m a grown adult, and as much as it sucks to see this unapologetic hatred every day, I know I’m gonna be alright.
I’m in an area of the country with solid protections against discrimination. I have access to health care. I’m doing okay financially. I have a good support system. I’m very fortunate and privileged in all these ways.
But what about those trans people living in areas of the country without non-discrimination protections?
What about trans folks without health care? What about trans people who are unemployed and unhoused and encountering other forms of discrimination, like racism and xenophobia, that compound the violent bigotry they experience? What about trans youth and their families?
What about trans people who are especially vulnerable? Even if most of the country doesn’t want to see them hurt, is that enough to protect them from the significantly smaller portion of the country that does want harm to come to them?
It is not enough. It, alone, will never be enough. I know this. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to achieve progress. It will take patience and grace and authenticity and confidence and assertiveness for many years. It will take a lot of teamwork for a long time coming. That’s just the truth.
But I can’t just stop watching baseball. I refuse to stop watching baseball.
I love my country. I love being an American. I have always believed our nation has the potential to achieve a greatness that is only limited by our imagination and most importantly: our sense of unity. I’m glad Vice President Harris embodies that.
I’m watching baseball tonight because it gives me joy, just as it does to the many millions of other Americans who are watching.
We are all watching a bunch of exceptional athletes work together and experience some of the best moments of life together and encourage each other—just like a family should—toward their common, sole purpose of getting home safely.
And I think that’s far too important to let the smallness and pettiness and ugliness of some very sad people get in the way of my joy.
They will say what hateful things they say and openly speak of what hateful things they desire and they will spin their wheels in such desperation for however long they’ll spin them.
But they don’t get to take baseball from me. Not a chance.
I’m at home here.
Just Trying To Make It Home