When I was 7, my friend's older sister died. She was hit by a car while playing outside. I went to her funeral, though I don't remember much of it beyond the very temporally specific detail of My Heart Will Go On playing after the service. I do vividly remember, after, wondering how my friend was doing but not really being able to talk about it, wondering what a child looks like after being hit by a car, wondering if she was scared before she died, if her parents were mad at her.
Yesterday I walked by a local school to drop off some aid supplies. An observer was outside watching the kids, about 5 of them, playing on the school's playground. It was a relatively warm day (in the 20s, Fahrenheit) and the kids were screaming, yelling, seemingly having fun. But there were only 5 of them. On a normal day, when it's this warm, the ear-splitting shrieks of delighted elementary schoolers can be heard from a few blocks away. Instead, those blocks are silent: a defensive silence, like sticking your head in a cube of Jell-o, profoundly unnatural on a normal, clear weekday afternoon.
As I went to ask the observer where I should drop the aid, I noticed a black Dodge Ram with Texas plates slowly rolling by. Past a playground half-emptied of children; past a school emptied of children. They've been grabbing parents during pickup and dropoff. The observer told me where to go and I told her about the truck I'd seen, and we parted ways.
On my way into the school, an uncomfortable looking young kid also got buzzed in. He was alone, going to an after school program. He didn't look like someone who might be abducted, but he did look like someone who knew people were being abducted.
How long will children remember this? How many children will remember this? Masked men with bulletproof vests, guns, tasers, leaping out of unmarked cars and barking orders at their parents or their classmates' parents, throwing them on the ground, beating them up seemingly just for fun before tossing them in the back of their rental and driving away? How many children will find themselves adults, still looking over their shoulders, still prone to losing sleep over certain noises, smells, sounds, seasons? Children are very resilient. How many of these children will be forced into a life where they have to learn resiliency, and practice it, because the President has called their mother a terrorist, or their father an illegal, or their uncle garbage?
Two days ago, the President posted this on Truth Social:
A man who thinks identification of federal agents, who work for the public and are paid for with our tax dollars, is "doxxing", chose to post pictures of small businesses almost certainly taken by the Nazi freak "journalists" currently roaming the metro area - people like Nick Sorter, Cam Higby, and yes, Nick Shirley. The claim is obviously ridiculous; many of these businesses are closed or dead right now because their customer base is being terrorized by jumped-up Klan thugs roaming the cities in posses looking for brown people to kidnap. But beyond that, I would like anyone reading this to know that one of these stores is one I walk by weekly, as it's under a mile from me. Another is one I pass on the bus any time I need to go downtown. These are small businesses offering services to their fellow community members. Trump believes that because these businesses are run by East African (or Latino) people that they are de facto illegitimate, and he believes people like me are race traitors for claiming these people as my neighbors even when I do so because they quite literally live next to and across the street from me.
My only possible conclusion from the last week is that conservatives fundamentally do not understand the concept of a community. They do not understand the concept of bravery. They do not understand the concept of taking the Constitution seriously. They do not understand that some of us, when we see someone darting onto their front steps for 30 seconds to grab groceries dropped off because it's not safe for them to go outside, feel a deep well of rage and determination to stop this; and they don't understand it because they believe that everyone is as hollow as they are. They don't believe in anything, they don't care about anyone, beyond their pathetic attempt to make roving KKK-style posses an everyday feature of American life. And they react with bafflement and anger to those of us who have souls, because they feel we're playing an unfair trick on them.
Today, we had a plumber out to deal with our main line clog. We have a giant FUCK ICE banner hanging in our front yard. I left it up even though I'd be home alone and was not really in the mood for either MAGA spittle in my face or pass-agg "oh you crazy liberal Minneapolis people" stuff, neither of which was a guarantee but both of which are always a possibility. Instead the guy, who lives in Rockford MN, asked me where to buy one. We talked for a couple minutes about the sheer inhumanity of this invasion, then I thanked him and he went on to his next call.
Greg Bovino is from North Carolina. So am I. What I find interesting about the attempt to federalize the Klan is that history tells us quite clearly that the Klan was effective because it was a diverse cross-section of white Southern society. In other words, the Klan did its work with the cooperation and aid of the citizenry. Not everyone, and not all the time; but most white people, most of the time. I find myself wondering if Bovino and the others have ever thought about what happens when the diverse cross-section of white society is viscerally repulsed and enraged by the posse's mere existence, never mind its behavior. Then again, I read that a huge chunk of new recruits failed an open book Constitution test, so maybe not.
The groundswell of popular resistance has some people saying quite confidently that we will win. I am not so sure. Colder weather is coming for ICE, but it's coming for the brave observers, watchers, commuters, and ordinary neighbors too. We will have to strengthen our resolve and remember that we must be steadfast in the face of federal occupation until we beat the bastards back. We have no other choice: for our neighbors, for our friends, for the Republic. No matter how cold it gets, how boring the foot patrols are, how threatening the posse or how exhausting our rage, we cannot, will not, quit. So yesterday I dropped off aid, and showered at a friend's place because of my fuckass plumbing, and then I went home and folded zines and talked to my wife about drawing up simple wills ASAP. Not because we anticipate dying while doing this work, but because we know we could.
Anyway, I heard Tom Homan was going to put us on TV. Let's go, big boy.
(p.s. I turned subscriptions here on because I already had a Mailgun account and figured a few people checking in on me/us might want to be able to have stuff delivered to them - so if that's you, go hogwild.)
