“There is a kind of sadness that comes from knowing too much,
from seeing the world as it truly is.”
— Virginia Woolf
We are at war.
On our streets, across international borders; between red and blue, white and brown. There is a war for our minds and hearts — a battle for our energy and thoughts. There is war in Iran, and today the President of the United States posted on his Truth Social account that “a whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.” There is a war against immigrants in Memphis, with the president’s task force working alongside ICE, Homeland Security, and state and local agencies to unconstitutionally remove people from their homes, jobs, and families here. The president, on a recent visit to Memphis, said soon we would have “like no crime” due to their efforts.
There is a war against the poor, which is reflected in those efforts, with more than 105,000 traffic stops resulting in more than 97,500 citations for such infractions as missing tag lights, headlights out, or expired plates. They claim 3,771 violent criminals have been arrested since the force’s launch. Someone is raking in dough on fines while they say their focus is on “the worst of the worst.” There’s zero force accountability and no access to public arrest data.
There is a war against children, seen with education and meal funding cuts. Or in the Epstein files, where our president was mentioned about 38,000 times, with allegations of sexual abuse against a minor, among other dealings with his convicted sex offender friend. But our president, who campaigned on a no-war stance, and is definitely a nice Christian gentleman, said there is no war. He doesn’t start wars, and this isn’t one. “We won,” he said a few weeks ago, adding, “we’ll just keep bombing our little hearts out.” There are now more than 2,000 reported casualties amid this war/not war, including more than 200 children.
There is a war against advocates and dissidents — against human decency and morality. Victims silenced. Witnesses gunned down. Detention centers going up. Missiles launched. Civilians killed. But, “Praise be to Allah,” our president said.
There is a war between good and evil, and we are losing.
There is a kind of sadness in knowing there are people out there who still support the immoral, unjust, and dangerous actions of the madman in charge. There are people who cannot see the truth — no longer hidden beyond a veil, but right in front of our eyes. Who threatens the lives of “a whole civilization” but a psychotic control freak with no understanding of consequences or the value of human life?
The world is broken in so many ways, and we are at war. And there is pain in knowing how little we can do from our sand-speck spots in the universe. It can be paralyzing, and I know an op-ed from little me isn’t going to change the world, or even one person. It’s impossible to scratch the surface of all the wrongs, lies, and hypocrisy. But if the truth is that we must go on in a society in shambles, we have to find peace in the present somehow.
Someone’s hand hovers over the nuke buttons. Everywhere people are suffering. The Virginia Woolf quote goes on to say that in knowing too much, “in that understanding, there is a profound loneliness, a sense of being cut off from the world, from other people, from oneself.” But I think I disagree. That “knowing” is a gift. Be gentle teachers. Shine a light for others. The powerlessness may creep in, but we can choose solidarity. What will you stand for? What will we allow?
The revolution won’t begin on its own.