On Saturday January 21st, millions of women took to the streets in what was likely the largest protest in American history since the misguided nationwide boycott that tragically forced Flavor of Love off the air after only three seasons. However, instead of moving the cause of the anti-Trump movement forward, this march only further alienated liberal elites from the rest of the country. For every angry protester who took to the streets to block traffic, a regular blue collar American was inconvenienced and re-routed on the way to their Saturday Red Lobster brunch. Though the march may have driven up profits at Michaels in Los Angeles and Starbucks in DC, sales at coal mines in the heartland were down as usual.
For America to work, it needs movements that unite, not divide. A Women’s March that focuses on niche political interest groups only serves to alienate crucial Midwestern voters the Democratic Party needs to win over. West Virginia coal miners and Wisconsin factory workers are simply not going to join in on a movement that mainly involves hoisting signs with crude drawings of genitalia and screaming chants with vulgar puns. The only time those guys will be yelling pussy is when they’re screaming at a 12 year old Little League pitcher who’s afraid to throw at the inside of the plate or a CYO small forward who’s too scared to take a charge.
Not only was the march divisive, but it also offers no prescription for what to do going forward. Sure you can have another march, but then what? Is the plan to just continue holding marches and growing your following until politicians are forced to respond to your demands? Read a history book, that’s not how any of this works. If liberals want to be successful moving forward, they need something that will not only unite coastal elites and heartland voters but also something that can endure beyond a single day of action. What they need, is a national Hamilton.
The smash hit musical Hamilton has become a nationwide sensation. Other than the funnel cake booth at the Indiana State Fair, it’s possibly the only thing capable of getting Mike Pence and Michael Moore in the same room together. For liberals, Hamilton is a great opportunity to sit still and quietly applaud while smiling knowingly to yourself. For conservatives, the play appeals to their love of completely sanitized and inoffensive black culture. At its core, Hamilton is an examination of the political and philosophical debates that would shape a nascent American republic. Anyone who has argued over exactly which library books should be banned at a local school board meeting could see themselves in its stirring portrayals of Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson.
However, for a play about the origins of democracy, the inaccessibility of the play to most Americans is wholly undemocratic. Your average lead miner or asbestos farmer could never dream of spending thousands of dollars to see a Broadway play. But what if, instead of buying tickets to see Juror #4 from an episode of Law & Order: Trial by Jury tell us about democracy, the American public put on our own performance of Hamilton? Americans across the country banding together to put on a play that reaffirms our dedication to the Constitution would do more to show President Trump what our values are than a thousand marches could ever do.
A national performance of Hamilton will have its own challenges. Does Kellyanne Conway have enough colonial outfits for everyone to wear or will some people have to make their own? Maybe the rapping part is too controversial for Middle America and will need to be replaced by Hall & Oates songs? Is it more offensive to have black people play Hamilton and Jefferson’s slaves or to have white people in black face do it? These are just a few of the many questions that will need to be answered. However, if Americans can work together to accomplish this, it will show out of touch politicians that there is nothing that we can’t accomplish. There is, however, one question that looms larger than all the others. Who will play the plays titular hero? The answer to that should be obvious, and requires we look no further than a small cottage in Chappaqua, New York.