Here We Go


I skipped the detention protest on Saturday because I had to work for the first hour of it and after that, I was tired. I was tired. What kind of an excuse is that, I ask myself.

I was tired. I came home and went to bed, covering my whole head with my comforter.

Is that some kind of protest to protesting? Was my mind just too overwhelmed to consider one more moment in a crowd with signs and chanting? Did I wonder if it was all a little too surreal and whether I'd somehow landed myself in an alternate universe in which an overweight reality TV personality kept trying to ruin the country? Two years ago, if I wrote the story of this Presidency, everyone would have said it was obscenely fantastical.

And yet, this is were we live now. Everyone who runs a department in the executive branch believes that department should be dissolved. Our schools, the protection of our environment, our State department? All fizzling under anti-management. Our country sends toddlers to court by themselves, then puts them back into cages when they are done. Our country reverses clean air and clean water protections that are in our self-interest. Our country aligns itself with dictators and human rights violators and alienates peaceful democracies we'd worked with for decades.

I could go on and on, but it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?

In the meantime, birds continue to sing. I remember that when my dad died, I wondered how the birds could continue to sing, but they did.

I wondered how I could laugh sometimes, but I did.

I wondered why the sun rose, why the sky was blue, why flowers bloomed, but they did.

I couldn't imagine my life being a peaceful one, but it was.

I think that's why I hid under my covers today instead of protesting. Like after my dad had died and I had wanted to wake up having forgotten the horrifying truth, today, I wanted to wake up after a nap with a clean slate, in an alternate universe, looking at a cheerful family with plans to make a nice dinner, clean up a little bit, and read my book.

I am the reason fascism can rise, aren't I? I am the reason, along with millions of other paralyzed people like me. I promise, I pinky-swear, that I will get back to protesting, writing letters, and contacting my representatives after I've built up endurance again.

Thank you for listening, jules