I promised that I wouldn’t say anything else about, him. Not a word.
I stood before God and the ancestors, hand raised like I was awaiting healing and deliverance at an altar call, or for Biggie to come back to the plot during homecoming with a verse.
I stood before them all, promising and vowing not to speak his name ever again, pledging to never entertain discussions about him, or expend any intellectual willpower toward his actions.
I vowed this because, frankly, I was sick and tired of literally being sick and tired.
I had seen the racist questioning of an American president’s birth.
I had heard the sexual assault admissions, the “eating the dogs, eating the cats” line, the sexist and racist mocking, the convictions, the endless lies, the vindictive cutting of funding for universities, nonprofits and governmental agencies, the treasonous insurrection on January 6, the grifting, the attacks on women, DEI and both the written and the spoken word.
I had seen it all, just like everyone else in this universe. And none of it, not one of his descents into depravity, was enough for us. Not enough for us to pull him to the side, check and balance him, to tell him what he is doing is unhinged.
What he has done, we as a people and a culture have certainly seen before. We’ve seen politicians sound off like slam poets about how there will be “segregation today, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever,” while clutching bullhorns as steadfastly as they held onto schoolhouse door entryways, preventing us from receiving an education.
So, I was content with convening with the 92 percent, drinking herbal tea and whimsically skedaddling in an undisclosed location until the next elections.
But, he brought Jesus of Nazareth into his madness. And that alone was enough to suspend my vow.
The internet has a not-so-new, but inevitable crisis. Donald Trump. Trump, never one to shy away from grandiosity, lies, or ridiculousness, shared an AI-generated image on Truth Social depicting himself in a white robe, hands glowing with light, healing a sick man. Critics screamed “blasphemy,” religious allies expressed shock, and political pundits rushed to dissect the political damage.
Within hours, the post was deleted, with Trump claiming he thought it showed him as a “doctor”.
Days later, he followed up with a new image showing “Jesus” with his arm around himself, captioned, “The Radical Left Lunatics might not like this, but I think it is quite nice!!!” In front of an American flag.
We laughed. We joked. We ridiculed.
But, this controversy highlights a deeper and alarming historical tension—the portrayal of Jesus as a white, Western European man. While the Bible does not explicitly define Jesus’ physical appearance, the familiar “White Jesus”—blue-eyed with fine features—emerged from the imperial imaginations of Renaissance artists like Leonardo da Vinci.
This “white-washing” was historically used to equate whiteness with divinity and purity, often serving as a tool to justify colonial expansion and the subjugation of people of color. We absolutely can’t miss that Trump’s use of these images relies on the “white Jesus” archetype to sacralize his own national identity and political movement.
The blending of Trump’s image with that of a white Jesus reinforces a specific “Christian Nationalist” narrative, where whiteness and divine authority are presented as inseparable. For us down here in reality, this is not just a social media gaffe but a calculated strategy that shifts the focus from Jesus’ biblical teachings of humility and service to a message of “domination” and political power.
It also deepens the divide with Christians who see these portrayals as a desecration and a total lack of reverence for the actual person of Jesus.
It’s curious that this imagery emerged while the administration clashed with Pope Leo XIV over his heartfelt appeal for global peace during the Iran war, further pitting political loyalty against traditional religious leadership.
By utilizing an AI image that mirrors classic Western religious art—specifically the “White Jesus” often found in 20th-century American Protestantism—the imagery attempts to seamlessly slot Trump into a pre-existing archetype of the divine protector.
The white robes and red shawl used in the AI image are iconic shorthand for Jesus in many American households. They absolutely know that. By adopting this specific look, the imagery suggests a divine mandate that resonates with Christian Nationalist sentiment.
Trump’s insistence that he was a “doctor” making people “a lot better” is ridiculous and surely serves as a thinly veiled allusion to messianic claims. The background details—including the Statue of Liberty, fighter jets, and eagles—frame this “healing” as a nationalist restoration, conflating religious salvation with political victory.
Whether the image is blasphemous, racist, or just tasteless, the true, lasting impact is that it continues to perpetuate white supremacy and white Christian nationalism, and will likely keep us engaged in the debate about the image itself—instead of the work he and his administration are doing behind it.
The outrage is just another part of the show. And, as usual, we all paid for a ticket.
