It was when I noticed the sign in the window reading “We don’t call 911” laid over four double barrelled pistols that it really hit me that I was in Texas. I am fascinated by the paradox of cities in Texas. The last thing I expected to see when I went to Dallas was a diverse city, one with culture and all kinds of people. What is so surprising is that this diversity takes place among a sea of red, with posters spouting the importance of Christian belief and salutes to the Confederacy seemingly on every block. Witnessing this paradox first-hand explained our election of Donald J. Trump more than anything else in the past year could.

As a good portion of “The Weekly” staff and I marched around the Grassy Knoll, led by a tour guide I can only describe as “eccentric,” we walked over the X in the middle of the street where JFK was assassinated. After we passed the fence, overrun by conspiracy theorists, where the supposed second shooter was, we ran into a man dressed like a priest.

As we talked to him about his connection to the assassination, his claim that he was married to one of the “babushka ladies,” I noticed out of the corner of my eye a man clad in a large leather jacket proudly sporting the flag of the confederacy.

This was not something you see every day in our very liberal school in very liberal Chicago. We took selfies with him in the background, posing with the oddity. Eventually, the novelty of this racist wore off, and we continued with the tour.

Later, I would be shocked to see the same priest we were talking to setting up a table directly in front of the JFK memorial with the man in the jacket. They chatted and set up the preacher’s microphone together, in front of a golden sign reading text from the speech that Kennedy never got to deliver.

There were hundreds of people milling around this tourist-heavy attraction, and no one looked twice as the man peeled off his jacket and hung it on the back of his plastic chair. I looked around, bewildered, waiting for someone to start an argument about the conspicuous confederate flag, a sign of the pro-slavery South.

After our tour ended, I stayed to observe the preacher and the man with the jacket. I noticed that his bright blue sweatshirt bore the presidential seal with Trump’s face on it, reading, “Donald J. Trump our 45th president Inaugural Ball.” This explained a lot. As more stereotypical Texans joined the racist and his preacher friend at their large makeshift podium, out of curiousity, I decided to ask around whether anyone was offended by his offensive insignia.

I asked maybe ten people. Of all races and genders. Not a single person admitted they were offended. In fact, most laughed me off like I was a lunatic for asking. “No! Of course it doesn’t! Why would it bother me?” one African American man asked me. The answer appears obvious in my mind given the symbol’s history of brutally oppressing everyone who looked like him.

I was completely confused until I met the rest of the group at a store meant to market to tourists. They sold Confederate memorabilia on every shelf. No one had a problem because these symbols had been there since the Civil War itself. If I had grown up around a symbol so powerful, one that most of the time had been present in any various location I was in, regardless of its history, like the American flag, (which is associated with genocide enough itself), I would rightfully freak out if someone tried to take it away. Or at least I wouldn’t have a complete aversion to it like the one I do to the Confederate flag.

This was a completely different world than the one I was used to. There was a complete disconnect. Even the liberals in the city felt like they must live in a different country than I do. No wonder Donald Trump got elected–I could not relate to these people no matter how hard I tried, and I doubt they could relate to Hillary Clinton or any of the current politicians in Washington that Trump was supposed to oust.

I am still deeply offended by the symbol of the Confederate flag and what it represents, but what Texas made me realize was that it doesn’t matter what I am offended by. I have no connection to a good portion of America. Our views are so drastically opposite, it is difficult for me to even rationalize their argument.

Liberals in the North are isolationist. Our treatment of conservative views as lunacy only makes them further averse to having a conversation. We need to recognize this gap between what is theoretically the same culture in the same country to successfully bridge it.

The most ironic part? I was in Texas to study journalism, the ultimate enemy.