Last Friday I realised that I had been in Trump denial mode. Despite knowing better, I just could not fully accept that such a morally corrupt person would become the president of the United States.
But there he was, with his very long red tie, and his small hand on two (nogal) Bibles, swearing to be faithful to the Constitution of his country. I hoped for thunder, rain, a podium collapse. Any form of divine intervention. Only a few drops of rain fell.
During his it’s-all-about-the-great-Donald-Trump inaugural speech, I started to despair. “Where are four brave women with placards when you need them?” I wondered, remembering the events in August of last year during President Jacob Zuma’s speech at the announcement of the local government election results.