For the first day of summer proper, I had lobster and ice cream. I mended two out of my three pairs of jeans. I baked a lemon cake for the chorus potluck tomorrow. I bought a tank top on sale. I passed out on a couch for an hour in the evening because I had slept maybe two hours the previous night.
I do not know what to do about the planned mass roundup of immigrant families, obscenely described by ICE as a "family op." [ETA: As of this evening, the roundup has been delayed. May it stay so and may there be no advantage to the White House from the threat of it.] I do not know what to do about children tortured, American concentration camps. I already have a senator whom I call to express support of her unwavering opposition to these monstrous policies (which makes a nice change from my governor whom I call to yell at about everything) and I donate when I can to RAICES and I am feeling trapped by the limitations on my finances and my physical capacities which make it difficult enough already to keep myself alive, but what is the use of being alive if I can do nothing for anyone else? It feels like being cornered into complicity, as if I should be expected to raise my hands and say not I didn't know but so what could I have done? I want to know what to do from where I am, which feels terribly far from any levers of power. Fretting is just thoughts and prayers, secular edition.
I do not know what to do about the planned mass roundup of immigrant families, obscenely described by ICE as a "family op." [ETA: As of this evening, the roundup has been delayed. May it stay so and may there be no advantage to the White House from the threat of it.] I do not know what to do about children tortured, American concentration camps. I already have a senator whom I call to express support of her unwavering opposition to these monstrous policies (which makes a nice change from my governor whom I call to yell at about everything) and I donate when I can to RAICES and I am feeling trapped by the limitations on my finances and my physical capacities which make it difficult enough already to keep myself alive, but what is the use of being alive if I can do nothing for anyone else? It feels like being cornered into complicity, as if I should be expected to raise my hands and say not I didn't know but so what could I have done? I want to know what to do from where I am, which feels terribly far from any levers of power. Fretting is just thoughts and prayers, secular edition.
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