George Floyd’s Legacy Goes Up In Flames

This article is satire.

Certain moments define a man. Certain moments define a nation. On rare occasions, the two collide — as when, on a sunny day in 2020, George Floyd was senselessly struck down by a lethal brew of methamphetamine and anally-chugged fentanyl. If there were a big, red alarm called “systemic oppression,” Floyd’s death would’ve set it ringing. Though the only alarms he set off in life were those of home security systems. 

But with retrospect and grifting comes healing. Each morning during the Biden years, I woke and took a deep, rich, fully articulated breath (of relief). Floyd’s death was not for naught. He suffered so that the general awareness of racism and stuff might be raised. And also for free TVs. 

Activists quickly mobilized to erect monuments so that we might never forget Floyd’s sacrifice. Of course, a statue is a paltry substitution for the man himself. Each gram of crack unsold, each gram of crack unsniffed, each woman deprived of the cold kiss of a pistol — these deficits compose the Floyd-shaped hole in the national fabric. Still, oversized, hideous monuments were a step towards recreating his presence in the public sphere. 

That is, until Donald Trump was elected president (again). It is no exaggeration to state that Floyd’s entire legacy is now in peril. Extremists on X, such as former major league baseball pitcher John Rocker, have suggested that “all George Floyd statues should be melted down and turned into Donald Trump statues.” 

All George Floyd statues should be melted down and turned into Donald Trump statues.

— JohnRocker (@itsJohnRocker) February 1, 2025

This is simply unprecedented madness. We must fight any attempt to erase fentanyl users from the historical record. Not to mention the extraordinarily problematic nature of converting a Floyd to a Trump, which constitutes no more than effigy blackface. (More Mexican Tranny Movies, Please, President Trump)

Floyd’s death was supposed to found a new national narrative — a ritual sacrifice to ensure bountiful black jobs for years to come. Instead, anti-Floyd, pro-national-security sentiments are racking up thousands of likes: “We won’t be done winning until we do this to all their cherished icons, until every George Floyd shrine is melted down and used to make ammo for the Border Patrol.” 

We won’t be done winning until we do this to all their cherished icons, until every George Floyd shrine is melted down and used to make ammo for the Border Patrol. pic.twitter.com/YKGJGvWXTS

— Brian Sauvé (@Brian_Sauve) February 4, 2025

I am apoplectic. I am panicked. There are whispers on Bluesky that Trump may disinter the golden casket in which Floyd was buried, repurposing the metal for a series of commemorative Mar-a-Lago golf balls. Rumors abound that the BLM mansions, purchased with Floyd bucks, may be gone, despite the best efforts of the sexually diverse and racially equitable Los Angeles Fire Department. Will nothing remain of George Floyd by the end of Trump’s presidency?

I shudder to think how I will explain this dark moment in American history to my future children (hypothetically, obviously, given the environmental impact of childbirth). 

“Mommy, who was George Floyd?”

“He could have been any one of us.”

And where I previously would have referred her to the six-foot tall, 700-pound bronze bust of a black man sitting near the monkey bars, in Trump’s America, there will just be a swing set or something. Now, my hypothetical child will only have recourse to such American role models as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Ugh.