America: behold, your Snowflake-in-Chief

It’s ironic that the alt-right’s insult of the moment applies above all to their hero, president-elect Donald Trump

A Donald Trump snowman is pictured in North Portland, Oregon.
A Donald Trump snowman is pictured in North Portland, Oregon. Photograph: ddp USA/REX/Shutterstock

If you’ve ever sat through a rightwing YouTube rant or spent five minutes on Twitter, you’ve likely heard the word “snowflake”. The term has supplanted the old standby of “social justice warrior” to describe a certain kind of liberal. This is thanks in large part to the far-right blog Breitbart, which lobbed it at anyone who criticized Trump’s incendiary rhetoric. But if you’re unfamiliar with the term, allow me to explain.

We “special snowflakes” are delicate beings obsessed with our own uniqueness. We identify with genders and sexual orientations we made up off the top of our heads in order to confuse people. We demand that everyone at whatever liberal arts college we’re doubtless attending respect these fabricated identities, and we punish our peers with mean words like “bigot” and “racist” when they refuse to comply.

We can only survive within the confines of our “safe spaces,” where we are protected from criticism and dissenting opinions. When we are confronted with a point of view from outside our snow globe of mandatory tolerance, we become, as the deplorables say, “triggered”. The word was originally intended to describe a reaction to a reminder of trauma, but has been recast as meaning almost any kind of upset, no matter how minor.

In sum: self-imposed victimhood, an inflated sense of self-importance, an inability to handle criticism, and a totalitarian demand for respect are the criteria that define the snowflake. It’s ironic, then, that the public figure who most reliably projects those qualities at the moment is Donald Trump. America is soon to inaugurate its first Snowflake-in-Chief.

Here is a man who, when a journalist like Jim Acosta hurts his feelings with a simple question, threatens to have him ejected. A man who, when he feels insulted, and he frequently feels insulted, goes on Twitter to berate whoever it is has damaged his delicate ego. A man who cannot handle an ounce of criticism without having a meltdown.

Donald Trump demands complete and total respect from everyone around him, including the press, whose job it is to hold him accountable. He portrays himself as the victim in petty spats with news outlets, journalists, celebrities, a former Miss Universe, the cast of a Broadway show, a Gold Star mother. The list goes on.

Indeed, Trumpism is a movement built on victimhood. It holds that Americans are unemployed because immigrants stole their jobs. It argues that people of color are diluting the culture of America and that LGBT people having rights is an attack on the traditional family. Its slogan, Make America Great Again, speaks to that victimhood. We were great once. We aren’t anymore, because of those people.

Saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” is enough to inspire a meltdown. Nando’s, a chicken chain, recently “triggered” multiple Trump supporters by simply handing out “#everyoneiswelcome” posters in their DC stores. The act of simply existing while transgender sends some into a tizzy.

The reality is that, yes, we actually are all unique, no matter our political leanings. Having strong reactions to things does not necessarily imply weakness or fragility, and is not the same thing as being triggered. The phenomenon of living in an ideological bubble where opinions that align with our own are considered good and opinions that challenge your beliefs are considered bad is not unique to either party or any movement. It is also not the same thing as a safe space.

Not every protest is a tantrum. Using speech to criticize speech is not censorship. Dismissing the struggles of marginalized communities as “identity politics” is intellectually lazy. Sometimes, something just is racist or sexist, and if describing it as such is enough to make you have a meltdown, then maybe you’re the fragile one. I’m talking to you, Donald.