A son’s love goes viral at the 2024 Democratic National Convention

During the recent Democratic National Convention, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz announces, “Hope, Gus and Gwen, you are my entire world and I love you.” As the crowd applauds, a camera focuses on Walz’s family with special attention on his son, Gus. Gus gives his father a standing ovation, points at his father, and nods with tears in his eyes. He seems to shout  the words “That’s my dad” amongst the roars of the crowd. Next thing you know, Gus’s reaction has gone viral. 

What intrigues me most about this viral moment is how different supporters, critics and news reporters respond to Gus’s overt display of emotion. Some praise it as a beautiful moment that shows the deep love Gus has for his father. Others describe it as “weird” because of their discomfort with the unrestrained display of emotion. To provide more context to the situation, Gus is a 17-year-old male with a non-verbal learning disorder, ADHD, and an anxiety disorder. Cruel or ignorant responses to his viral moment were criticized as ableist against neurodivergent people and sexist against men who openly display emotional actions that may be perceived as more feminine, such as crying. 

While these critical lenses are valid and help reveal the nuance behind why this moment went viral, I want to think about emotional expression more broadly here. Gus gains attention because of how openly he displays his emotions. You might call it pride, love or a mix of the two. The emotions he displays are usually classified as positive emotions, emotions one would usually want to experience more. Yet, Gus’s actions still drew criticism. Why?

As someone who is neurodivergent, it makes me a bit concerned that some supporters justify Gus’s emotional expression with his neurodivergence. Would he be more deserving of criticism and teasing if he wasn’t neurodivergent and showed his emotions in the same exact way? I would hope not. It reminds me of moments when I was taught to be stoic, silent, and agreeable by my parents and teachers growing up. 

Now, as an adult, I often worry that any public display of emotion may make my instructors, superiors and peers see me as less professional or dumber. I’m more open with my emotions now, instead of suppressing them most of the time, but with that openness comes fear of criticism. Or worse, I fear criticism behind closed doors more than public tweets. How, then, would I know what people truly thought of my openness? 

I think the situation shows just how comfortable or uncomfortable a person is with public displays of affection. In middle school, students could be hassled by security guards for making out in the hallways. When I became a teacher, I recoiled from my ex-boyfriend when he tried to possessively put his arm around my waist in fear that we might run into a student. While these examples were more sensual than what happened at the Democratic National Convention, Gus’s affection for his father made some people equally uncomfortable. It provides us with a concern about what displays of affection are appropriate in public, whether at political events or at school. Maybe we will clap too loudly. Maybe we’ll shed one tear more than what is socially acceptable. Maybe our face will appear too warped, too anything other than neutral. Then, we will be ridiculed for showing the world we are indeed human and we do indeed feel. 

Overall, I feel like it is strange how much attention, both positive and negative, was drawn to Gus because of his humanness. I hope we can wake up one day and be unafraid to show how much we value one another as those around us bear witness and continue on their merry ways unbothered.