I’ve stayed silent all these months because the heart went out of me. I lost interest in writing. What difference would it make, I told myself. I can watch MSNBC all day, every day, and nothing will change. Trump will still be president, the GOP will sit on its hands, grateful for the chance at power. But what has the past seven months cost us?
I wanted to help, to add my voice to the masses protesting with their feet and their words. But I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I started to lose hope, to hide in my corner while things got worse.
I can distance myself for only so long. As the courageous Amy Siskind reminds us every day, we cannot normalize Trump’s behavior. We cannot allow ourselves to accept even the slightest aberration, because he is slowly, carefully consolidating his power. It’s egregious to me that he pardoned Sheriff Joe last night while most of the country’s attention was distracted by the unfortunate shiny object that is Hurricane Harvey. He took advantage of our common horror and empathy to poke his fleshy finger in the eye of our judiciary. Congratulations, 45. You’ve passed Autocracy 101.
Even if my words disappear into the ether of madness that floats above our country, I will speak up, loudly. The pen is mightier than the sword, so they say. I plan to test that theory. That vile, disgusting pig of a man cannot twist the Constitution to suit his purposes. Neither can his base. He’s not going to reinvent us as the Nazi States of America. Good people cannot lose hope. They cannot stop fighting.