The night the letters came down

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It may have been the strangest Friday night in history.

Tens of thousands of people across the country sat glued to our screens watching a livestream that began early afternoon on the east coast and stretched deep into the night. We sat patiently as construction workers in fluorescent vests slowly erected an elaborate set of scaffolding: We stood by as a last ditch court filing threatened the completion of the project: We waited through rain and thunder: The longer it went on, the more we dug in. We needed to see the letters fall.

Starting on December 19, 2025, the building at 2700 F. Street NW in Washington, DC, bore the name Donald J. Trump in addition to its real namesake, former President John F. Kennedy. In the pantheon of heinous developments during Trump’s second administration, it paled in comparison to him allowing Elon Musk to gut USAID which led to the hundreds of thousands of deaths overseas, or the opening of an immigrant concentration camp in Florida where he hoped alligators would consume them. No, this was more symbolic; a nod to dictators past who plastered their names on places and achievements to which they played no role to expand their omnipresence. But in the wee hours of Saturday morning under the cover of a massive tarp, construction workers removed the letters spelling his name. For a moment his power retracted. 

On May 29th, US District Judge Christopher Cooper ordered the removal of Trump’s name from the building within 14 days. Cooper also halted the Trump-appointed board’s two-year shutdown and renovation plan. In the maelstrom of Trump’s crushing cruelty, it was a rare reminder that not every bit of the people’s power had been torched. As the administration came up against the deadline of midnight on Friday, the Kennedy Center board filed an emergency motion to stay the decision, threatening their own funding should Trump’s name be removed. But the judge wasn’t buying it and denied the motion. After more weather delays, work resumed around 8pm.

The excruciating process to remove the letters was on brand, considering Trump never cedes an inch without a knock-down, drag-out fight. His quest for power is quashed only by his petulance, with no amount of pride getting in the way of what he feels is entitled to him. But the letters at the Kennedy Center—as well as the United States Institute of Peace installed just days earlier—have served as a reminder that as much as things have become profoundly dangerous in this country, they’ve also become profoundly stupid.

In the hours after DOGE (with the help of DC Metropolitan Police) took over the Institute of Peace building in March 2025, an image was shared with me from someone inside of giant metal letters scattered on the lobby floor. Trump’s administration hoped that by immediately removing the rightful name from the lobby wall that people would forget. The discarded letters would rust in the scrap yard while Trump continued to amass power. Anything he grabbed was his. Or so he thought.

What made the rapt online and in-person audience on Friday night that much more remarkable was the fact that the country isn’t hurting for communal events right now. The World Cup kicked off right here at home on Thursday, and the New York Knicks are in the middle of a historic championship run. For the first time in years, people are being brought together by something other than a global pandemic or their loathing for Trump. But for some the power of sports was no match for the pleasure of reveling in Trump’s displeasure.

The act of taking down the letters became a communal event in and of itself, with people (like me) live-posting on social media throughout the many hours of build up. We watched carefully as each rod was set in place, speculating why the workers were on a break (government interference? Pizza time?), whether they were intentionally drawing out the process in case of another last minute Trump interference, or whether the scaffolding would eventually hold a tarp that would deny us the joy of watching each letter pried off the wall. For the most part, however, we were just watching a fairly static image of a wall. That’s how we’d chosen to spend our Friday night.

At a time when culture has become so diffuse, with millions following online streamers who millions of others have never heard of, the removal of the letters felt as close to a monoculture moment as we’ve had in a long time. It was a celebration that was geographically agnostic, attracting people throughout the country and the world and demonstrating just how starved we are to witness an ounce of accountability. That, and our insatiable thirst for his humiliation. And of the millions who tuned in to watch at least part of the livestream—MS Now’s stream had more than five million viewers by its end—the president himself was surely one of them. Before he had the nuclear codes and the ability to destroy civilizations, he was the master of spectacle. But at the Kennedy Center on Friday night, Trump wasn’t the ringmaster; he was the bear in a tutu. 

I have to confess that I wasn’t able to stay awake for the actual letter removal. No, the first letter didn’t come down until around 4am ET and my body refused to make it past 1:30. I awoke later in the morning to find that the deed had finally been done. Indeed a giant white tarp had been draped from the top of the scaffolding to obscure the view of onlookers in person and at home, and presumably to protect Trump’s ego. But the letters came down all the same, notching one victory in what will be a generational war to rebuild. 

Just a mile down the road at the White House, a UFC fight will be held for Trump’s birthday and his white nationalist Freedom 250 campaign in honor of the country’s big upcoming birthday. On the hallowed White House grounds he’s had a massive fighting ring built, which again can’t compare in impact to the decisions he’s made as president that have ruined and ended lives, but serves as a symbol of his unabated depravity. Whether he can attract the kind of audience that tuned into the Kennedy Center livestream remains to be seen. 

While corporate media continues to act as though they’re all in for Trump, I hope they’ll take note of how many people willingly spent hours watching scaffolding get built just to see him fail. There may be big bucks in stroking his ego, but what’s emerged is an existing market ready to see it destroyed. If media executives can’t see the moral imperative for stopping Trump, perhaps the potential payoff will speak to them. 

On a separate note, I just wanted to apologize for the dearth of stories this week. Sometimes as a journalist you’re chasing down a bunch of leads and they don’t come to fruition as quickly as you’d like. That said, I have a number of stories in the hopper and look forward to sharing them with you when they’re good and ready. Thanks for your patience and ongoing support. - M