I grew up with the American flag. Now, the stars and stripes seem hostile

The day after Trump won, I was greeted by the red bloom of several freshly strung American flags. It was the first time the flag made me feel afraid

By Chase Quinn | A writer based in Charleston, South Carolina | July 4, 2017


The morning after the US election, drowsy from a late night watching the votes come in, still in a state of disbelief at the results, I carefully laced up my red Nikes for a run and considered my options.

Since moving from New York City to a predominantly white suburb of North Charleston, South Carolina, my daily exercise routine had become an unexpected source of anxiety. This was, after all, the same city where Walter Scott, an unarmed black man, had been shot in the back in broad daylight after a routine traffic stop only a few months prior.