Allegations that Donald Trump is a clownish figure are not hard to come by. Political strategist James Carville referred to Trump’s administration as the “clown show” after Homeland Security secretary Kristi Noem gave an incorrect definition of habeas corpus during a Senate hearing. In response to the President retreating from both his hefty tariffs plan and nomination of Ed Martin to be US Attorney for the District of Columbia, MSNBC commentator Lawrence O’Donnell called Trump a “humiliated clown”. And when the President made himself the focal point of laughter in June by hosting a birthday-military celebration to a lacklustre crowd in DC, hundreds of demonstrators across the country participated in “Kick Out the Clowns” protests — which they described as “a nationwide counter-circus” to the President’s “tacky” parade.

But none of this qualifies Trump for such a title. I am a clown and board president of the non-profit Clowns Without Borders. I’m here to set the record straight.

I have performed as a professional clown for 24 years. Clown, capital C, is a valuable and varied art form; pantomimes, acrobats, magicians, dancers, stand-up comedians, vaudeville artists and jugglers are all examples of artists who incorporate Clown into their work. Whether you know it as Clown or not, you have likely seen it. From stage clowns such as Bill Irwin to the characters of Cirque du Soleil, created by masters such as Michelle Matlock and Mooky Cornish; from pedagogical ensembles, such as Pig Iron or Spymonkey to healthcare clown organisations such as the Laughter League and Healthy Humour. Clown is huge.

Clown demands years, if not a lifetime, of study. Consider the physical virtuosity of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, or the impeccable comedic timing of Mr Bean. What’s more, Clown is not an invention of the modern era; several ancient Indigenous cultures revere a sacred clown figure. For example, the Ochéthi Sakówin (Sioux) people celebrate the heyoka, an honourable community member who uses humour to shed light on societal problems.

All Clown shares the common values of healing, empathy and reflection. Our work touches people in need of joy everywhere. I’ve witnessed the smiles that clowns bring to the faces of people in hospitals, war zones, refugee camps and homeless shelters. In May, I travelled to Beirut to work with local clowns to share levity and playfulness with children living under the constant threat of bombardment. After our shows, their teachers told us that they saw a “life” in their students’ eyes that they have not seen since before October 2023.

This area of Clown is called “humanitarian clowning”, which Clowns Without Borders has specialised in for more than 30 years. CWB has 13 operational chapters around the world; our budgets are small, but our reach is broad. We perform for thousands of people living in refugee camps, but we can also craft an act for an audience of one. In rural Haiti, I watched as a child receiving medical care without pain medication to clean second-degree burns on his back laughed through the procedure because he was distracted by a clown. I have seen hundreds of Rohingya children dance with an ensemble of clowns while their homes in Myanmar smouldered in the background.

Clowns are more than children’s birthday party performers; we help people relax, heal and prompt others to think differently about the world. Just before the 2010 Haiti earthquake, CWB was invited to perform in a communal section of Port-au-Prince called Martissant. Two warring gangs controlled the area, but both groups wanted their children to see the clowns. We were granted access to safely perform for both gangs and their children — a collective recognition that no matter who you are, you want your children to experience joy.

Yet, our joyful work has been diminished into an insult. Every election season, the word “clown” resurfaces to compare tumultuous Washington politics to a circus. Political commentators and social-media users are not the only ones who wrongfully sling this jibe. “Clown” is used by almost everyone to belittle those seen as foolish or incompetent. The more we mistreat the word, the more we lose understanding of a sacred art form.

Let’s find a better metaphor to despise and depose fascism. Keep Clown out of Trumpian comparisons, and for that matter, all politics. Offer Clown the respect it deserves and invoke us for good: in alliance with other artists, activists and humans who believe in a better, happier world.

For centuries clowns have been uniting people in laughter, levity and creativity. That’s what real clowns have to offer. If you’re still stuck on the broken comparison ingrained in our national dialogue, here’s an alternative: try “buffoon”.

• Tim Cunningham is the board president of Clowns Without Borders, a non-profit that performs clown shows for communities facing hardship