While The Nation Marches, Trump Swings Clubs in Scotland

Some headlines don’t shock me anymore—not because they aren’t outrageous, but because they’ve become too familiar. The kind that makes you shake your head and mutter, “Of course.” This week, as protests echoed from coast to coast in response to mounting injustices and urgent cries for accountability, Donald Trump was spotted playing golf on the rolling greens of Scotland, seemingly untouched by the reality gripping millions.

Disconnected From the Struggle

As someone who served this country in uniform—and someone who continues to serve by speaking out for justice—I can’t wrap my head around what it means to be a leader who chooses escape over engagement.

Back home, Americans are marching in the streets. From Atlanta to Minneapolis, voices are rising against systemic racism, political corruption, and increasingly fragile democratic norms. Parents are afraid for their children’s future. Veterans are struggling to access basic health services. Communities are still recovering from economic fallout. And yet, the former Commander in Chief appears in pictures smiling with a golf club in hand, dressed in leisure while the working people of this country fight battles he helped inflame.

“Let Them Eat Cake” All Over Again

It’s giving Marie Antoinette energy—out of touch, insulated, uninterested. Honestly, it’s heartbreaking. No matter which political side someone leans toward, there should be common ground in the belief that leaders—especially ones who still seek public office—ought to show up in meaningful moments. If you want people to believe in you, you have to meet them where they bleed, not where the champagne flows.

Imagine being a single mother facing eviction this week, watching news coverage of nationwide protests while turning the channel only to see a former president leisurely swinging a 9-iron in a foreign land. What message does that send? That the work of democracy can wait while a round of golf can’t?

Leadership Isn’t a Resort

I know what it means to be exhausted. I know what it means to want to get away from the noise. I’ve lived it—on deployment, on difficult days in civilian life, and in experiences that would break most. But leadership? Leadership means standing in the fire when others run. It means being present, whether popular or uncomfortable. It means rolling up your sleeves when the people who entrusted you with their hope are out in the streets, pleading for change.

Silence in the Face of Protest Is a Statement

Let’s not pretend this trip to Scotland is just “a personal visit.” It’s strategic. It’s performative. And it’s a statement: *I don’t have to answer to you anymore. I don’t need to care.* At least, that’s the feeling it gives millions who are asking for answers, for truth, and for leadership at home—not absentee vacationers abroad.

Imagine if, instead of golfing, any former president used his platform to speak directly to the concerns motivating these protests: racial injustice, women’s rights, veteran homelessness, or the smoke still rising from broken systems left unattended for too long. That would be a statement worth broadcasting.

We Can’t Afford “Business as Usual”

Maybe this isn’t about Trump at all. Maybe this is bigger. Maybe this is about us realizing that the era of self-indulgent leadership is long past its expiration date.

There are communities that feel lied to, abandoned, and let down by those who promised to serve. Whether it’s leaders ignoring the cries for help, HOAs denying people basic rights, or public officials hiding behind red tape, it reminds us that comfort should never come before commitment—not in a democracy.

We Deserve Better Than Tee Times and Soundbites

I write this not out of rage but out of hope. Real hope. The kind that keeps marching even when the road is long and lonely. The kind that believes we can and should elect leaders who are present, engaged, and willing to sacrifice their comfort for the people.

Golf may be his escape, but we don’t get to clock out. We’ve got kids trying to survive unsafe neighborhoods, seniors navigating unaffordable health care, and veterans attending memorials for friends lost to war—whether on the battlefield or to the battles we bring home with us. We can’t afford to look away. Not now. Not ever.

Conclusion: The Work Is Here—Not in Scotland

To those protesting in the streets, I see you. To those writing letters, making calls, organizing neighbors—you are the true patriots, the real leaders. Don’t wait for someone on a golf course in Scotland to step up. The movement lives within us. The power is in our voice, our vote, and our refusal to be silenced.

So let the clubs swing overseas. The fight for justice is here, at home—and we aren’t backing