I remember the protests of the 60’s and 70’s. I saw them on TV. I saw anti war protesters tear gassed and killed for decrying a world where war and nuclear proliferation were very real threats.

Today there are people protesting the things that I value. Cultural diversity, acceptance and appreciation of our differences. All this against a backdrop of a fascist regime threatening nuclear violence and empowering the very worst our country has to offer.

I am at a loss. This is not my country. These are not my people.

Today, in my culturally diverse neighborhood in Chicago, there is a block party. I sit in my house listening to children playing. Multiple languages. Laughing.

I hope they don’t see this. I pray, to whatever god might be out there, that these children never know what is happening right now. 

There are people in Charlottesville. Carrying guns and chanting horrific slogans. Reviving the things we, as a country, reviled some seventy years ago enough to go to war in an attempt to wipe it from the face of the earth.

United in their hatred of them.

Right now I sit in my apartment choking back the lump in my throat. Later, I will go out and sit with my neighbors, and love being with them.