The Loud Silence: What Trump’s America Asks Us to Tolerate

By Gemma Flora Ortwerth

It should not be radical to say that the man who is threatening nuclear war, defaming political opponents, and promising mass deportations is dangerous. It should not take academic expertise to recognize the fascist playbook unfolding in real time. But here we are—living in a country where saying those truths out loud still gets labeled as “partisan,” “divisive,” or worse, unpatriotic.

Donald Trump knows exactly what he’s doing. His language is not accidental. His dog whistles are not missteps. His cruelty is not a side effect—it is the feature. Every time he threatens violence or promises vengeance, he tests the water. Every time there is no widespread, sustained public backlash, he wades deeper. The silence isn’t just complicity anymore—it’s endorsement.

There is no plausible deniability left. His followers may claim they don’t hear the hatred, but they do. They just don’t mind it. Or worse, they thrive on it. Whether they are motivated by ignorance, economic anxiety, cultural fear, or nostalgia for a mythologized America that never truly existed, the outcome is the same: mass dehumanization of people like me. Queer people. Disabled people. Immigrants. BIPOC. Journalists. Protesters. Truth-tellers. Survivors.

And yet somehow, many Americans still treat this as political theater. They see Trump as a character instead of a clear and present danger. The way some people cheer at his rallies—with laughter, with pride, with foam-finger devotion—reminds me not of a political movement, but of a cult that believes itself immune to consequences. It is a surreal kind of privilege to be able to watch fascism creep in and feel nothing. To joke about it. To wave a flag while the world burns and pretend it’s all going to plan.

But this isn’t just about Trump. It’s about the culture that enables him. The pastors who use their pulpits to demonize queer and trans youth while calling it faith. The lawmakers who write policies that criminalize poverty while pretending it’s justice. The neighbors who look away from ICE raids, police brutality, and book bans because it doesn’t affect them personally. The adults who raise their kids to believe empathy is weakness, and then wonder why their children grow up detached from the suffering around them.

I understand that many people were raised with certain beliefs. I know that generational trauma, lack of education, and echo chambers play a real role. But I also know this: in 2025, most Americans have access to the internet. To information. To stories beyond their own. At this point, choosing ignorance is exactly that—a choice. If you still support Trump after everything, it’s not because you don’t know better. It’s because you refuse to try.

There are infinite facts available. There are lived experiences being shared every day. There are communities under siege who have been screaming for decades. And somehow, the only thing that seems to pierce the defenses of Trump loyalists is when you speak loudly. When you get angry. When you refuse to be nice. They call it aggression. I call it survival.

As someone training to be a social worker, I do believe in empathy. I believe in restorative justice. I believe people can change. But I don’t believe in tolerating hate under the guise of compassion. Not when lives are on the line. Not when silence gets people killed. Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is be clear. Not cruel—but clear. And the truth is this: if you support Trump’s agenda, you are supporting oppression. If that truth makes you uncomfortable, then you’re finally feeling a fraction of what the rest of us live with every day.

I will not be quiet. I will not soften my language to make injustice more palatable. I will not pretend neutrality is a virtue. I will be loud. I will be direct. Because what’s happening isn’t just unethical—it’s evil. And history will not look kindly on those who chose power over people.

We are not obligated to play respectful while the country veers toward authoritarianism. We are not required to whisper while our rights are stripped away. And we are not going to sit quietly while a man who speaks like a dictator is handed the microphone again.

So if you’re tired of hearing people like me speak up—good. That means it’s working. That means the silence is cracking. And when that silence finally shatters, maybe we’ll have a chance to build something better.

Until then, I’ll keep shouting.