ONE DAY AT A TIME:

Like any good anonymous meeting, it starts with bad coffee, a semi-circle of seats, and an invitation to share. But this Wednesday night's meeting isn't AA or NA or any of the other As you know, this is Racists Anonymous.

For the past month, Trinity United Church of Christ in Concord has been holding weekly support group meetings in its fellowship hall, and it's gaining traction. 

"What Jesus said is, 'come see,'"says Reverend Nathan King.

Sick of the shootings and racial unrest, King says he wanted to do more than pray.

"It seemed like every week we were coming into worship and we were doing another prayer because someone had been killed in the street," King says.

Racists Anonymous was born.

"It's to deal with the racism within ourselves and to eliminate the racism within ourselves," King says.

The church mantra is to be on the frontline of social change. A sister church in California decided to start holding "Racists Anonymous" meetings and asked 20 other congregations to join them.

King's church answered the call.

Each week about a dozen people from all backgrounds attend the meetings. Most are church members, but recently, they've begun seeing attendees from the neighboring community.

In a living room in western Pennsylvania, the Republican National Convention was on TV, and Melanie Austin was getting impatient.

"Who's that guy?" she said, watching some billionaire talk about prosperity and tolerance. "Prosperity and tolerance? Forget that sh--."

She lit a cigarette. Her boyfriend, Kevin Lisovich, was next to her on the couch, drifting to sleep, a pillow over his head. On the ottoman was her cellphone, her notes on the speakers so far -- "LOCK HER UP!!" she had written -- and the anti-anxiety pills she kept in a silver vial on her keychain.

She was a 52-year-old woman who had worked 20 years for the railroad, had once been a Democrat and was now a Republican, and counted herself among the growing swath of people who occupied the fringes of American politics but were increasingly becoming part of the mainstream. Like millions of others, she believed that President Obama was a Muslim. And like so many she had gotten to know online through social media, she also believed that he was likely gay, that Michelle Obama could be a man, and that the Obama children were possibly kidnapped from a family now searching for them.

"So beautiful," Melanie said as Ivanka Trump walked onto the convention stage to introduce her father, and soon the soaring score of the movie "Air Force One" was blasting through the TV. Melanie sat up straighter. This is what she had been waiting for.

"Here comes Big Daddy," she said, clapping. "The Donald. Big Daddy."

Kevin was snoring.

"Here he is, babe," she said. "Donald's here, babe."

Trump walked onto the stage, chanting "U-S-A! U-S-A!"

"That's right, Donald -- USA, baby," Melanie said to the Republican nominee for president, who began his speech by marveling at all the Americans who had gotten him here.

"Who would have believed that when we started this journey on June 16th of last year we -- and I say we, because we are a team -- would have received almost 14 million votes?" Trump said, looking out on the cheering crowd.

"I would," Melanie said to the TV. "I would, Donald."

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