Make It Better

You CAN, you know.

Social media is a wild place right now. You have your doomscrollers who tell us that it is right that we’re feeling bad because the world is ending, your joyful doomscrollers who make excellently smart jokes about the death of democracy, your educators who connect what is happening in the world to historical events (or not, with some of this nonsense), and your distractors who are still giving us dog pics and toddler stories, bless their hearts.

I’m still on Facebook, Instagram, and Threads — but I’m not sure how long I will stay. I’m getting reports of people not being allowed to unfollow the accounts of the president and VP, and that’s a whole lot of ick. Fact-checking has disappeared, and frankly I see more ads than friends on FB and Insta. Threads hurts a little bit, because it was just getting to the sweet spot of what Twitter was before it was purchased by a prospective fascist overlord. I am on Bluesky (@suzles.bsky.social), which has potential, but there are several reasons I am loath to leave FB after all of these years.

FB feels local. I mean, when I first moved back to my hometown, my dad suggested that I shouldn’t post about day-drinking in case I gave the wrong impression! I’m only “friends” with people I actually know, and a whole lot of them live in the same town as I do. Oftentimes, it is the only place I hear about local shows or concerts, find out who had a baby or who died, and why there were emergency vehicles headed south on Hwy 169. My beloved 7th grade social studies teacher continues to impart lessons in that space. I would miss the back to school pics and the prom pics and yes, all the memes. Most of these connections aren’t people I would text, so I will just… not know what they think about things. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of that will be a relief. But it will also be a loss.

Part of what is making it feel like a bigger potential loss right now is that I’m discovering that some of us have hit our limits (finally) and saying it out loud. Whether it was the Nazi salute, the Twitter rant about that wonderful Bishop’s sermon, or the policy that declares our transgender citizens don’t exist, something has broken through and people are livid. That rage feels like a balm right now.

Rage as a balm? I have lived the last 8-9 years walking on eggshells in the communities in which I live and work. Well, kind of. I haven’t really kept my mouth shut, but I was very careful about what kind of conversations I would strike up out in the wild. To see some of the individuals around whom I have tiptoed coming out in defense of immigrants, Bishop Budde, and the LGBTQ+ community have done my heart so very much good.

That’s how we make things better, you know. One way, at least.

I know that the vast, boiling ocean of awful makes it feel like simply posting a political meme or commenting a message of support is embarrassingly trivial and downright useless. Au contraire! Those posts and comments are commiseration — they let us know that we are not alone, scared in the dark.

I think that there is real work to be done to change our world, our country right now. The way to start is by GETTING LOUD. The other side figured this out a long time ago, with their flags and their riots and their overflowing hate.

We must guard against empty gestures and performative action. The hats and bracelets and stickers are iffy at best (though I love a message t-shirt… and try to make sure I’m buying them from minority-owned businesses), and real harm can be done when we — I’m speaking to the white women now — decide to appropriate symbols that do not belong to us. Please do not buy a cowrie shell necklace. That is not for us.

I am a mandated reporter, as are all educators, medical professionals, and law enforcement — we that have regular contact with children as part of our jobs. I have a responsibility to report if I suspect a child is being mistreated, neglected, or abused. As they say at the airport: See Something, Say Something. Don’t you think that we should all have that responsibility when it comes to our beloved country?

Dear Readers, I am tired of being told I’m overreacting. I’m tired of being told that deliberately chosen words and gestures don’t mean what I think they mean. I’m tired of being afraid to offend. The other side (yes, there are sides) isn’t afraid to offend (or hurt, or kill), so how dare I stay silent?

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie

Pictures of dogs help. Fact.