Content Note:
This post explores personal safety, public perception, and disability. It examines the powerful role of symbolism in shaping how we see each other. It includes candid reflections on behavior, clothing, and stereotyping.
My goal is to examine how snap judgments affect perceptions. Cultural bias, lived experience, and survival instinct often shape these judgments.
My goal is not to reinforce harmful narratives. These are sensitive topics, and I approach them with honesty, nuance, and a desire to encourage thoughtful dialogue, not division.
Hats, Songs, and Snap Judgments
I was listening to Jason Aldean’s Try That in a Small Town the other day, and it got me thinking.
Not about the music itself—though it’s catchy in that flag-waving, boot-stomping way, but about the reaction it sparked. The song blew up. It was not because of a brilliant guitar solo or a poetic turn of phrase. It gained popularity because people saw it as more than a song. For some, it was a patriotic anthem. For others, a veiled threat.
Like another modern American lightning rod: the MAGA hat.
That bright red cap, simple as it is, might be one of the most instantly polarizing accessories in U.S. history. To some, it’s just a political statement. To others, it might as well be a warning flare.
So what is it about these symbols—songs, hats, slogans, flags—that causes such intense reactions? Why do some people feel pride when they see them, while others feel fear?
And most importantly, what can we do to see past the symbol and engage with the person?
When a Song Becomes a Flashpoint
Released in 2023, Try That in a Small Town went viral. It reached not just the charts, but also spread across headlines, op-eds, and furious threads. The lyrics paint a picture of small-town loyalty. They highlight tough consequences for crime. Aldean made no secret of the song’s pro-law-and-order message.
But it wasn’t just the lyrics. The music video, initially filmed at a Tennessee courthouse where a Black teenager was lynched in 1927, paired Aldean’s performance with scenes of violent protests and looting. To many, that imagery—plus the song’s aggressive tone—felt racially charged and threatening.
To others, it felt honest. Real. A voice for people who believe their rural communities and traditional values are mocked or misunderstood.
So which is it?
Well… both. And that’s the point.
When a Hat Isn’t Just a Hat
The MAGA hat follows a similar logic. Originally a campaign slogan, “Make America Great Again” has morphed into a political identity. Wear it, and you’re instantly tagged—by strangers on the street, by friends on Facebook, by whoever is across the room.
Some wear it proudly to show support for Trump. They also wear it to push back against what they see as cancel culture. Others see it as a stance against coastal elitism.
Others view the hat as a threat—a symbol of racism, exclusion, even violence. And not without reason: plenty of people have used it as a tool of intimidation.
The reality? The hat isn’t magic. It doesn’t turn someone into a villain—or a hero. But it does carry the weight of what’s been done in its name.
The Red-Hat Moment: My Brain Took a Shortcut
I’ll admit it. I’ve had my own knee-jerk reaction. Not long ago I was visiting a friend I hadn’t seen in ages. As I walked up, I spotted that familiar shape on their head: bright red cap, bold white lettering.
My stomach dropped. I hadn’t pegged them as the MAGA type. For a moment, I felt this weird swirl of disappointment. Confusion and even a little anxiety crept in.
Then I got closer. The hat? Totally apolitical…just a diner logo. My brain had filled in the blanks—and fast. That’s how potent the MAGA symbol has become: it hijacked my perception before I even focused my eyes.
Safety, Perception, and Lived Experience
Snap judgments don’t stop with red hats. They fire when someone’s clothes or body language feel threatening.
When someone gives off an aggressive or unpredictable vibe, I naturally tense up! it’s less about what they look like and more about the energy they’re projecting. It doesn’t matter their race or background; if the energy feels off, I stay on alert.
As a person with a disability, I live with the reality that I’m more vulnerable in public spaces. If someone decides I’m an easy target, I can’t always run, fight back, or vanish. Statistics on crime against disabled folks are grim.
So yes, my guard goes up. I’m scanning for risk.
But I also know those gut reactions aren’t perfect. They’re shaped by media, experience, and survival instincts that don’t always leave room for nuance. That’s not an excuse it’s just the tension I live with: protecting myself without dehumanizing someone else in the process.
Being on the Other Side of the Assumptions
Here’s the twist I don’t just make snap judgments. I’m on the receiving end of them all the time.
Because I move differently, people assume I think differently. They slow their speech, over-enunciate, or talk to the person next to me instead of me. Apparently physical disability = mental disability in their shortcut-happy brains.
It’s dehumanizing and exhausting. It springs from the exact same place as those red-hat and hoodie reactions. It is that lightning-fast visual assessment we love to rely on. So yes, I get why we judge symbols. I also know what it feels like when that judgment erases who I actually am.
Why Our Brains Go There
We’re wired to simplify. Symbols help us sort the world into friend or foe in milliseconds. Efficient, sure—accurate? Not always.
Songs and hats are easy to judge. People are messy. When we reduce someone to the symbol they’re sporting, we lose the story of why they believe what they believe.
So What Can We Do?
- Get curious, not furious. Ask, “What does that mean to you?” instead of “How dare you wear that?”
- See the person, not the brand. Humans are never one-note.
- Balance intention and impact. Harm can happen even without malice.
- Know when to walk away. Some folks wield symbols purely to provoke. You don’t have to oblige.
More Listening, Less Labeling
“Try that in a small town,” the song challenges.
Maybe we should try talking in one. Or in a city. Or across the dinner table. Not to convert just to understand.
Symbols will always carry power. But so do our choices especially the choice to look beyond the surface.
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