Gen Z, those with Andrew Tate in their ears and phones in their hands too early, who grew up with school shootings and a failing education system as the government has done nothing, I’m not mad at them. Or that guy from the holler in the Deep South, who hates me because the party of hate said so (I’m trans), I’m not mad. Boomers, who scrambled to hold what they could as Reagan did his damage, I’m not mad.

I’m mad at the party of hate. I’m mad at the party of elite who doesn’t let us choose. I’m mad at the circumstances that line pockets while they point fingers and say “you should hate that guy,” when that guy knows how to make composting toilets, and checks on his neighbors, chainsaws trees off the road and hauls cases of water bottles as his community was devastated by a hurricane. When boomers protested the Vietnam War and sat at lunch counters and refused to be removed, showing the entire world that change was possible. When Gen Z is accepting of others (I grew up hearing “that’s so gay”), and trolls political rallies, and holds their friends under desks as the latest AR-15 roams the halls.

Here we go again. And my answer remains the same: Community. Helping our neighbors. Potlucks and game nights and speaking our languages and listening to others and their stories. To building and finding third places and basking in the presence of our people.

Hold on.

Dylan Gallagher
Portland