Do Not Praise That Man To Me

Do not praise that man to me

Do not praise that man to me. Tell me
Never again that there are things to admire
about him, even still. I do not care if he
made some rockets, or seemed to, 
or if he made some cars, or seemed to.
I do not care how rich and therefore 
right he must be. I know how Right he is.
He is so Right he would wipe me from
the earth, deny me a future, because only
Rich Men own the future. 

Do not praise that man to me. I do not
care if he has turned around a failure 
of a business, or two, or so he claims.  
Do not say well yes perhaps he has been 
radicalized, now, as though he had no agency 
in the matter. As though his plain words and acts
have not always been of hate, contempt, 
self-aggrandizement. I’ve seen that movie.

He speaks in tongues with Nazis. If a man speaks
in the language of Nazis, if he speaks with them,
if they speak together, that man is a Nazi. 
I will not have you tell me otherwise. I will
not listen to your excuses for him, I do not
care what you think he’s done for the world,
what a genius, what a success. What a Real
Man, worth admiring, for some things, anyway.
We can hate the man and love his money, can we not?

I do not want you to tell me that you’d never
bet against him. 

If you do not bet against him,
you bet against me. I know you meant
only in the market. You wouldn’t bet
against him in the market. Against 
his business. It’s all the same to me. 
You rate his so-called skill with money
to be more important than my life.

To watch from comfort over there
while here in my bluest blue of homes
it’s nearly every week the high school scrubs
a swastika off a wall, finds one carved into
a desk, removes the desk, writes another note
to parents, has another assembly to address
The Hate. The Hate comes ever closer,
and what do you know of it? Did they
call your father a kike? Did they tell you
you didn’t belong, that this was meant
to be a Christian nation? Did they teach you 
that in school? 

They taught me that in school.

Do not praise that man to me. 
If he speaks and acts as a fascist, 
he is a fascist. If has truck with 
Nazis, he’s a Nazi. That is a plain
fact that we all can see, he shares his
own receipts. He demeans women,
you can find those receipts. He hates
Black people, you can find those receipts. 
He has visited cruelty after cruelty
upon those who work for him, or did.

He taunts me with his contempt while he burns 
down a place in which I have found love, 
understanding, solidarity, and some strength. 

Do you think I would like to hear you 
praise a man who stole that platform from me,
how he threatens me from it, with all the most
powerful people in the world standing with him,
with no one to stop him as he cuts down what 
I have loved? Do you think I care if he managed
to put some satellites in the sky? 
What good will those satellites do me
against the meteor coming my way,
a glowing fireball of Hate which puts me
and all whom I love in mortal danger. 

Do not praise that man to me again.
You must not praise a Nazi. You must
not turn aside as he raises the voices
of Nazis, fascists, insurrectionists,
-- all those who would blame me for 
their troubles. Do you call me a social
justice warrior?  Do you call me deviant, 
crazy? They do.

Do you say I see catastrophe
where there is no catastrophe? 

My people fled a catastrophe. 

The ones who didn’t, 
who said it wasn’t so bad really,
surely they didn’t mean it, that’s just
talk, they died in it. The ones who
stayed and fought died too, mostly.
But they did not die of an illusion.
They died speaking the truth, 
they died standing up for it,
and if you praise that man again
to me I will show you their pictures,
one by one, and I will dare you,
say it again to my face. 

Say again you would not bet against that man.
Tell me how little you care for my life.

- Amy Isikoff Newell, November 2022