What message does Trump's cap hide?

Lately, Donald Trump has been depriving us of one of the most characteristic elements of his aesthetic: his hair tuft which, with improbable aerodynamics and a generous amount of hairspray, defies the Newtonian laws of gravity. Instead, he is gifting us with a new element that is becoming a personal trademark, especially since the invasion of Iran: the baseball cap. A cap that has become a patriotic symbol and political slogan, alternating the colors of the United States flag and two embroideries depending on the occasion: "USA" and "Make America great again" (MAGA). When Trump puts on his red cap, more than simply repeating an electoral strategy, he is reactivating a much older tradition: that of turning a head accessory into a flag.

The oldest precedent we find is in the Phrygian cap of ancient Rome, which slaves received upon being freed. Julius Caesar's conspirators also displayed it after his assassination to publicly celebrate that, with the dictator's death, they believed they had regained freedom. Subsequently, this symbol would transform, under the French Revolution, into the bonnet rouge: a cap as a visible political gesture to show adherence to the revolution.

Other hats have also served as social and political markers. The top hat of the bourgeois elites of the late 19th century publicly proclaimed, even with its height, a class superiority. In response, the proletariat adopted flat cloth caps. Although they did not crystallize as an explicit symbol of political struggle, they did become a very useful identifying element at a time when class consciousness became fundamental for workers' struggles.

The beret proudly worn by Che Guevara in the now iconic photograph taken by Alberto Korda in 1960 would eventually become a symbol of revolutionary guerrilla warfare and political resistance. But the overexposure of this image — one of the most reproduced of the 20th century — meant that, paradoxically, what had been born as an anti-capitalist symbol ended up reduced to a pop icon exploited by "kitsch" capitalism.

Trump now resorts to one of the most recognizable objects of North American culture: the baseball cap with a visor. It was created by the Brooklyn Excelsiors in the mid-19th century to prevent players from being dazzled by the sun when looking at balls in the sky, and for decades it was just a functional item. But over time the cap — especially that of the New York Yankees — left the stadium and, thanks to urban culture and hip-hop, became a global symbol of cultural identity. In a world that needs visible and immediate signs, the cap offered a perfect surface to inscribe any message, graphic, or symbol, with cheap and easy production.

The cowboy hat, which connects with one of the foundational myths of the United States, could have served to represent Trump's nationalist ideas, as Lyndon B. Johnson, Ronald Reagan, or George W. Bush had used it in the past. Presidents like Barack Obama or Joe Biden have also been seen wearing baseball caps, in the latter's case to rejuvenate his image, but always in informal moments.

The difference with Trump is that he no longer wears it in everyday contexts, but in political scenarios, as a central element of his iconography. A gesture consistent with his way of understanding politics: made of slogans, immediate gestures, and communication that functions as a brand. Trump thus presents himself as a pop politician who constructs himself as a product, in which the cap is not just a symbol of adherence but also an item designed to circulate, be sold, and generate profit. If the French Revolution had a hat, contemporary American politics has merchandise.