Authenticity is hard to come by in politics, and if you try to be all things to all voters, you won’t get there. Donald Trump, love him or hate him, is pretty much who he says he is. Harris is more of an enigma for now.
I have spent several years now thinking about the idea of authenticity, because I believe it is the quality that American society most craves, but also one that is rare and incredibly hard to define.
We clearly see this in our presidential race, in which Donald Trump’s supporters view him as a straight shooter who always says what he means, while his detractors describe him as a snake-oil salesman who will say anything to get what he wants.
Similarly, Kamala Harris fans see a tried and true public servant with decades of experience under her belt, while Republicans see a chameleon changing political colors more often than the pride flag.
Are either of them authentic? Neither of them? What is authenticity?
My own search to define the elusive quality began at a little dive bar in Venice Beach called Hinano. I’d just driven from Brooklyn To L.A. and the final day’s drive had taken me through about six different Bob Ross paintings from hunter green forest to deathly beige desert, moonscapes and Indian trading posts in between.
With my burger and beer I felt what Jack Kerouac once described as „end of the land sadness“, but the company was very pleasant and as I looked around I saw sawdust on the floor, a Beach Boys cover band was playing, but I wondered, was this authentic?
Now, Hinano has been there since 1962 and apparently Jim Morrison loved it, so it had that going for it, but on the other hand, it felt almost like we were all playacting in some other time and place, like a 60’s California Renaissance Fair.
