Scoundrel Time

How It Ends: The Trump Mothers Speak


And then, finally, we descended: tens of thousands of women in America, coming to the White House trying to take back the country. We were all dressed as Mary Anne MacLeod Trump, the mother of Donald Trump.

We came from every state, from large cities and small ones. Some were young mother Trump, the Scottish immigrant with a suitcase and papers, some were bride mother Trump, with a princess gown of white satin, some were the older mother Trump, in pearls and a champagne blonde whirl of hair. All of Washington, DC was filled with mother Trumps. We surrounded the White House, timing it when we knew he would be home.

We wanted to shout the phrase that would fill him with shame so deep and incapacitating, he would finally resign.

We began to shout.

You idiot, you are being used by Russia! Resign!

Stop the tweeting, it makes you looks stupid and ill-mannered! Resign!

Your brother would have been a better President! Resign!

Why didn’t you go into something dignified, like banking? Resign!

Obama will always be the better President! Resign!

Do you ever look at yourself? Stop eating all that crap and my god, get a haircut! Resign!

For the love of god, do not get near Scotland! The relatives hate you! Resign!

The Secret Service was there, trying to press back thousands of Trump mothers. We were shouting. We thought we saw a dim figure in the window. You are an embarrassment. You are nothing. We know better. We were the whole country and we were his mother. We tried to find the magic words.