The face of fear has no expression.
Heaving dreams are hard to realize in a world where being a pacifist is akin to being a “radical idealist”. I remember when my father called me that. In this entire political rhetoric of normalization of war, it’s the opposition that is demonized. It’s a tragedy to be 20 and deprived of the privilege of being naïve. Never mind the fact that he owns more than the rest of the country put together. Never mind his disregard for the value of human life. Never mind the heaving dreams he stepped on with a smirk in his head. Never mind his rage, his tyranny, his plutocracy, his fast flying drones. Never mind.
Growing up to the politics of war hasn’t been easy, but watching a hateful, angry plutocrat get elected as one of the most influential men in the world has shaken me. Not too long ago, I wished to study abroad, in now snuffed out fantasies of beautiful hippie counter-establishment Berkeley streets, and suddenly have a longing for India, while I’m in India.
Fear is as infectious as hope.
I’m waiting for 2020 when they find another black president on whom to blame the inevitable depression .As a progressive who has looked up to USA for their legacy of counter cultural movements, watching Trump get elected has been a tragedy.
How do nearly 50% of the people associate with that? How do they associate with a man who is so rich he’s in less than the top one percent bracket? How do they see him as a man of the people. I wonder if Make America great again is just a cushioned euphemism for make America white again.
Well, there are scarier things in life.