It was an hour before the motorcade was set to arrive in downtown Nashville, and the lady in the “Trump Save America” T-shirt was explaining why she hates Kamala Harris. “I’m not meaning to say I’m a prejudiced person,” she began. Of the many ways to end such a sentence, none were promising. I assumed she would call the vice president a “DEI hire,” as right-wing pundits had done all week. But she veered in a different direction.
Harris, the woman went on, believes in pushing homosexuality, transgenderism, and “people acting like cats and dogs.” At her grandniece’s public school in Kentucky, students identify as animals and come to school on leashes. This, she insisted, is the future Democrats want: lawless, godless, and out of control.
It was late Saturday morning, two weeks since the near-assassination of Donald Trump. The woman from Kentucky, a nurse and preacher’s wife, had driven to Nashville earlier that day with her sisters. Outside the Music City Center, the sprawling convention center where Trump was scheduled to speak, the former president’s face appeared on a digital screen against a bright orange backdrop reading “Bitcoin 2024.”
Photo: Johnnie Izquierdo/The Washington Post via Getty Images
The sisters knew little about bitcoin and, to be fair, neither did I. As for the conference, all they knew was that they couldn’t afford it. Tickets ranged from the basic festival pass for $699 to a VIP “Whale Pass” for $21,000. But it didn’t matter. They just wanted a glimpse of Trump. And if they didn’t get one, that was OK too: “We’re here for moral support.”
This was not how I typically spent my Saturdays. On weekends, the strip near the convention center known as Lower Broadway is clogged with tourists and bachelorette parties. Scores of mostly white women in cowboy boots fill honky tonks that have become dominated by bro country celebrity venues, from Kid Rock’s Big-Ass Honky Tonk Rock n’ Roll Steakhouse to a new bar by Morgan Wallen, the country star ostensibly “canceled” after dropping the N-word on video.
Nevertheless, I’d come downtown with a certain sense of civic duty. Trump had arrived as Nashville was increasingly attracting right-wing extremists, who seemed to feel too comfortable in the city I call home. Since I moved to Nashville in 2015, the Republican Party had been taken over by the MAGA movement and Tennessee’s politics have taken a hard-right turn.
Nashville has become a magnet for far-right media figures like Ben Shapiro, who moved his media company, the Daily Wire, to the city in 2020, bringing a wave of anti-trans activism that has made Tennessee increasingly cruel toward LGBTQ+ people. Meanwhile, Nashville, which is often described as a blue dot in a red sea, has seen aggressive assaults on its political power. A new congressional map recently carved the city in three, obliterating a Democratic district and distributing the pieces to a trio of Republicans. The East Nashville neighborhood where I live is now represented by a Trump loyalist from Cookeville, some 80 miles away.
In recent weeks, things in Nashville seemed to be taking an even darker turn. All throughout July, white nationalist groups had descended upon the city. The neo-fascist Patriot Front marched downtown over Independence Day weekend; a week later, neo-Nazis disrupted a Nashville City Council meeting. The weekend before the bitcoin conference, neo-Nazi provocateurs filmed themselves harassing a group of Black boys who’d been downtown playing bucket drums. The men hurled racial slurs, laughing and jeering when one child erupted in anger. As police officers escorted the kids away, one of the white supremacists gleefully faced the camera, calling them “little fucking monkeys.”
The ladies from Kentucky were unaware of Nashville’s Nazi problem. They had no idea why such people would share Trump supporters’ slogans, like “Let’s Go Brandon” or “Facts don’t care about your feelings.” They questioned whether the neo-Nazis were even real. They had probably been paid by George Soros, the nurse concluded. “I think that anything that’s going against America is paid by George Soros.”
The neo-Nazis were real, of course — certainly more real than students identifying as cats. Seven years after white nationalists marched through Charlottesville and Trump signaled his support for the “very fine people, on both sides,” his supporters were as eager as ever to either embrace or explain away his racism and authoritarianism. Now those supporters included crypto billionaires and bitcoin bros. Like the nurse from Kentucky, they were committed to an alternate version of the world. Why worry about Nazis when you’re forging your own reality?
Photos: Brett Carlsen and Liam Kennedy/Bloomberg via Getty Images
Orange-Pilled
The Bitcoin conference is a project of Nashville-based BTC Media, and, I heard again and again, not usually political.
Cryptocurrency enthusiasts have long dreamed of a world where transactions are free from state control. However, the recent conference took on a decidedly pro-Trump tone. A tax lawyer was seen outside the Music City Center distributing bandages with QR codes, symbolizing a shift in attitudes within the crypto community. Despite previous skepticism from Trump towards cryptocurrency, he had changed his stance after receiving donations from supporters. This was evident in the fundraising events organized around the conference, with VIP receptions featuring Trump and his son commanding high prices.
The event saw a mix of politicians and right-wing celebrities, with Edward Snowden cautioning against blind allegiance. Outside the venue, a Cybertruck adorned with THORChain logos was parked near Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s bus, where a campaign volunteer boasted of refusing to vaccinate his children due to anti-authoritarian beliefs.
Inside, vendors showcased mining equipment, bitcoin-inspired art, and Trump memorabilia, catering to a predominantly male audience. While some attendees praised Trump’s support for bitcoin, others expressed concerns over his divisive energy. Despite disagreements, the conference highlighted the growing influence of cryptocurrency in political circles.
As the venue reached maximum capacity, overflow areas were filled with attendees eager to hear from speakers sponsored by Gemini, a crypto company linked to the Winklevoss twins. The scene reflected a polarized atmosphere, with some openly mocking Trump’s motivations while others remained staunch supporters. speaker expressed amusement at the polarization caused by Trump’s first term and was entertained by his antics. They noted Trump’s detachment from reality in his speeches, full of exaggerations and lies. The speaker described Trump as a narcissist who spins his own reality, with the audience willingly going along with it. Despite some promises made by Trump that resonated with the crowd, there was mild disappointment and a feeling that Trump did not understand bitcoin. Outside the venue, there were protesters expressing their opposition to Trump, including a Black-led solidarity march supporting harassed children. The article highlighted the clash between different groups outside the venue, with tensions running high. Overall, the speaker felt that things were moving backward and questioned whether the current situation reflected the year 2024. Please provide alternative wording for the following text.
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