My Thoughts Don’t Even Cost A Penny

An apology to readers: I’ve been unable to write anything for the blog, given the current political situation. Both serious writing and parody are being done by people far more astute and clever than me. And making light of normal life seems too frivolous right now.

But this week, at a dinner party, listening to the same conversation that permeates everything, I suddenly got angry, not at Trump or Musk or any of the faithful minions or the GOP who have happily shed their ideals as easily as they shed their underwear each day. I got angry at myself. I got angry at the Democratic party. I got angry at anyone who abhors what is happening but who limits their action to talk among like-minded people.

The next morning, I wrote the following. But for several reasons, I posted on Facebook instead of this blog. So if you have already seen this on Facebook, don’t bother to read again. I just had to get this out.

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In the years leading up to Hitler’s rise in power, well before the “Jewish solution” was put into place, Jews were being marginalized, harassed, and killed. A family member of mine met with other young men at a church one day to discuss the political climate. They were subsequently lined up in front of the church and shot. His father, who was outside his house, tending his garden, heard the shots but had no idea that he had just lost his eldest son. Gradually, as more and more random actions solidified and became law, most people still went about their ordinary lives each day, as best they could.

I grew up asking my family why nobody took action, when it was clear in what direction things were headed. My father said that his two sisters and one of his brothers had already gone to the US. He and his mother were waiting to join them. Another brother was married, had a young son and a good job. Because events didn’t affect him personally, he saw no reason to leave. He stayed. What is left of his body and that of his wife will thus forever remain in Poland, buried deep in the forest, alongside countless others who were pulled out of their homes one night and shot along the edges of a huge, newly-dug pit.

My question of why nobody took action remained hanging in the air, even after my father’s explanation. Because many people were unaffected by the precursor to the horror? Because many people simply believed that whatever terrible events were happening, would never get worse than the events that had been happening already for hundreds of years? Because people trusted the laws that were made to keep them safe or, in the case of Jews, to at least tolerate them? None of these answers suffice.

I don’t believe that Trump and Musk are new age Hitlers. The targets they have created are immigrants, rather than Jews. And their actions so far have resulted in economic and political hardship, rather than death. But, while death may not be the goal, the expendability of humans is. And that has already begun.

It doesn’t calm me down to know that I have no job to lose. It doesn’t calm me down to know that someone other than me is now the target. It doesn’t calm me down to know that, if social security were eliminated, I would survive. My question, birthed decades ago by hearing the stories of my immigrant parents, still hangs in the air: Why is nobody taking action? I understand that lawsuits take time. I understand that the wheels of government turn slowly. I understand that countless well-intentioned people are starting citizens groups and holding rallies and marches and protests.

But I believe that if a family in Africa cannot get vaccines for their children, all of our children are at risk. If people with intellectual disabilities are publicly mocked, we are all being mocked. If allies are no longer worthy of our help, then no one is worthy of being helped. The bottom line is that, if humans are believed to be expendable, those humans have a much better chance to become collateral damage to the actions of a government that is simply transactional and nothing more.

For every single time I bitch about the current assault on our laws, our morals, and our values, I will send money to those who fight the good fight. For every single time I get discouraged or depressed, I will write a letter, make a phone call. And for every single time I feel hopeless, I will remind myself that I am now, along with countless others, boycotting the retailers who have capitulated to the demands of a transactional government. I will march, I will protest, I will use my voice.

I am not expendable. And I will not be silent. My ancestors are watching.