The ‘thunderous’ boos tell the story of Trump’s politics of hate

I write about politics for a living, which means that whenever I show up at a social gathering, I become the reluctant metaphorical doctor at the party, with every guest wanting to question me about their latest ailment.

That’s me. Except my ailment is Donald Trump.

I went to a Pride party last weekend, and I have to tell you, it felt different this year. In past years, there was plenty of eye-rolling and jokes about how stupid, reckless, and foolish Trump is. Venting in a “can you believe what he did?” way that kept a lot of us sane.

But not this time.

I don't think I have ever heard the word hate used more times in a single evening than I did over the weekend. Everyone said the same thing: I hate him. And I’m seeing and hearing it everywhere.

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If you spend any time on social media, on Threads, on X, in the comments sections beneath any story about Trump, you already know that hate is the predominant word. And far worse things are said. What I experienced at that Pride party wasn’t an outlier. It was just a reflection of all that online hate dropped into the real world.

Then came Monday night.

I happened to be getting off a train from Boston, arriving beneath Madison Square Garden about two hours before tip-off. When I walked out onto the streets around the Garden, it was utter chaos. The crowds were massive, something I can’t recall seeing before in my 30 years in the city.

Those crowds lined up and down the side streets weren’t backed up because of the game, but because Trump was coming to it. It was just another selfish act by Trump, since he was surely warned that his attendance would be a huge inconvenience to fans.

He came anyway because he couldn't care less about anyone else.

Knicks and some Spurs fans had been forced to arrive two hours early. The lines were staggering. It reminded me of those nightmare airport security lines during the government shutdown, when Trump refused to pay TSA agents, and travelers paid the price in hours of waiting.

I asked a group of guys standing at the corner of 34th Street and Eighth Avenue if they were waiting because of Trump. Every single one of them, unprompted, said some version of: “He’s an a-hole. I f****ing hate him. Why is he even here? They’re gonna lose because he’s here.” They did lose.

And to some fans, the hate went the other way. One fan even told the sports site The Comeback, “he hates us all.”

The anger was stunning, unfiltered, and seemingly universal. The same energy I had felt at the Pride party just days before.

Then, during the national anthem, Madison Square Garden furiously booed Donald Trump, so loudly and so thunderously that “thunderous” became, at least to me, the media’s adjective of choice for the moment.

What made it more grotesque was the decision to put Trump’s face on the Jumbotron during the "Star-Spangled Banner," ostensibly, one assumes, to shame people into silence. It didn’t work. And that image, hate-fueled booing drowning out our national anthem because of one man, is a metaphor for what Trump is doing.

The hate Trump is injecting into the veins of this country is now competing with the pride we have in our country. This is where he has pushed us.

This coming Saturday, that hate will be on full display. Trump is hosting a UFC fight on the South Lawn of the White House. A 6,000-seat, 600-ton arena was erected next to the hole in the ground where the East Wing used to be.

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The White House lawn, a symbol of American dignity and democracy, is being reduced to a backdrop for vengeful blood sport. Most Americans won’t watch it live. But they will scroll past clips of it on social media. The punches, the kicks, the chaos, the blood, the grunts of hate, staged just outside the people's house.

Instead of, let's say, throwing out the first pitch at a Washington Nationals game — where he would likely get the same reaction he got at Madison Square Garden — Trump will ring the bell to start a no-holds-barred hate fest.

And I suspect the word hate will trend again when it's all said and done.

I want to be careful here, because hate is corrosive. It ages you. It stresses you. And the last thing any of us wants is for that hate to curdle into something violent. No one deserves to be hurt. But Trump's hate, and make no mistake, he is the one who lit this fire, has already hurt people. It has hurt communities, institutions, and now, apparently, the solemnity of the national anthem and the country's soul itself.

I remember once, as a teenager, saying to my grandmother that I hated someone. She was so full of love and happiness that she objected to the word. She hated that word. The irony is intentional because that's how much she hated hate.

But Trump? Trump bathes and basks in hate. It is his mojo. It's evident in his eyes, his voice, his online and offline persona, and even in his insipid-looking signature. If love conquers all, then it needs to take hate on like a UFC match and beat the crap out of it.

Pride Month is supposed to be about love. It always has been. And I believe that love, not just within the LGBTQ+ community but among people broadly, will end up beating the crap out of hate. It will outlast it. But I fear the match between love and hate will take longer than any of us wants.

But in the end, love always wins. It has before. It will again. It just has to be louder than the thunderous booing of hate.

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