August 29, 2020

I see the post-RNC convention poll bounce, I read the miles of raging, patently insane comments on the Facebook pages of radical right Senate candidates, I shudder under the deluge of relentless propaganda, I watch protesters and innocent black civilians get murdered at the hands of fascist racist cops, I hear Trump supporters talk about COVID in the past tense even while another 3,000 Americans die to it during his convention, and I think, I can’t. It’s too much. It’s too much. There is too much madness, too much hate, too much pure insanity, I can’t, it’s too much.

And I have a day of weakness, a day where I’m beaten. I retreat into games and books and the loving arms of my family. I have a chance conversation with someone else in the fight, who’s scared like I am, and somehow it reinvigorates me. I have a conversation with my niece who has suddenly become politically aware, who doesn’t buy this BS for a minute and is talking to her other high school friends, and it stirs hope. I see two baseball teams refuse to play their game, leaving the field empty but for a Black Lives Matter flag laid across home plate, and I find courage.

I remember what it means to speak out.

I remember what it means to be an AMERICAN.

I find a wellspring of rage.

This gibbering, fanatical horde, this subscriber base of madness–they’re terrifying. They’re powerful. They’re cheating. They’ll do anything to win.

But we don’t have to let them.

WE.

HAVE.

NOT.

YET.

LOST.

They use COVID to their own ends, knocking doors when decency holds us back, holding massive rallies to whip up frenzy when our common decency for our fellow human beings keeps us from even meeting 6 to a room. They gut the post office so our votes won’t be counted, expecting that our fear of COVID will keep us home on election day, and I realize –

Yes, I’m scared.

But I am also FURIOUS.

How dare they? How dare they take what was actually great about this country and pervert it? How dare they spit on us, gaslight us, lie about us, all while we keep stupidly trying to have a conversation?

I’m done talking with them. I’m done caring what they think.

We are in a war for the future of this country.

Yes, a war.

I hate to use that word. It carries awful implications. I don’t use it lightly. I’ve avoided it for three and a half years.

But you can’t win a war you won’t admit you’re fighting, and it’s time to admit we are in a war for the future of this nation. That’s not just some lofty ideal. That is a very real phenomenon with very real impacts. It will determine whether you are allowed to speak your mind without being attacked. Whether you can safely walk the streets with brown skin or a Democratic tote bag. Whether you can survive the global pandemic. Whether the planet we live on survives for our grandchildren or dies in fire.

THIS IS A WAR. And the stakes are the greatest they have ever been.

Are you making calls for a Democratic candidate? No? WHY THE HELL NOT?

Are you contributing as much as you can? No? WHY THE HELL NOT?

Are you scared, are you curled into the fetal position? I get it. Believe me, I do.

But you aren’t alone. WE ARE IN THE MAJORITY. But they are so good at lying, so good at making us feel like shit and at spreading terror, that they’ve tricked us into giving up.

We have to fight. We have to get out of our comfort zones. They are laughing at me as I type this – literally, I see their little mocking laughter emojis popping up on another post of mine where I dared to speak out, and every single one makes me angrier.

These people are destroying our country and destroying our lives.

Are we mice?

Or are we Americans?

April 2, 2020

I swear social media is some kind of malicious worldwide experiment to kill people’s ability to feel joy.

I experience the following several times a day: See an image or read a story or watch a video that makes me laugh. Lightens my day. Dispels a tiny part of the permanent cloud of darkness over my head. I scroll on, still smiling, riding the high, and am immediately accosted with death, agony, or hatred. Perhaps all 3. I freeze with this fucking grin on my face staring at the worst, most caustic shit the world can throw at me. Genocide, murder, rape. While I smile.

I am so, so tired of it. The emotional whiplash. The punishment for feeling an instant of happiness. Just the sheer trickery of it.

You want to talk about a social media algorithm? How about one that fucking *warns you*? How about one that puts the good shit together and the bad shit together, and is like, “Brace yourself, this next part is awful, but it’s important you know it,” instead of just an endless jack-in-the-box alternating between flippant stupidity and soul-rending awfulness? Logging on is just an exercise in psychotic emotional manipulation, from start to finish. I close that fucking window and feel like my mind has been raked with hot coals.