They’re still here—the white hoods.
They never left.
They just added neckties and podiums.
Now they trade burning crosses for signed legislation.
Now they ink pain into policy and call it patriotism.
But don’t be fooled. It’s the same hate, just laundered.
This level of racism has always been here.
Rooted like poison oak in the foundations of this country.
The only difference?
Trump gave them permission to use their outside voices.
He didn’t invent hate—he unleashed it.
He legitimized it. Emboldened it.
Told it to shave its head, put on a suit, and run for office.
And it did.
They passed a bill on July 3rd that guts social safety nets—
Medicaid, Medicare, SNAP, WIC.
The lifelines for the poor, the disabled, the elderly, the children.
Veterans, even.
Yes—the very same veterans they claim to revere.
Starved, denied, and betrayed.
And then they had the audacity to call it “the best birthday present for America.”
You don’t gut your people and call it a gift.
Unless your America only includes the rich and white.
We’ve fought a whole fucking war about this already.
The Battle of Gettysburg was 162 years ago—this week.
That was the turning point.
The pivot that began to fracture slavery’s stronghold.
And yet here we are. Again.
Not even two centuries later.
The last living person born into American slavery died in 1940.
My grandmother and my mother were both alive when that woman died.
This is not ancient history. This is still bleeding.
They want to resurrect a system we buried in blood.
They want to chain the future to the sins of the past.
And they think we’ll be too tired, too poor, too afraid to fight back.
But here’s what they don’t understand:
We are the children of survivors.
We carry resistance in our blood.
You can slash our budgets,
but you will never bankrupt our will.
You can shred our safety nets,
but we’ll stitch new ones with fire and thread.
You can try to erase history—
but we remember.
You Know Who This Hurts? Let Me Tell You.
It hurts the single mother working two jobs who now has to choose between her insulin and her child’s dinner.
It hurts the disabled veteran who served with honor only to be told his trauma isn’t worth treating.
It hurts the child whose only full meal of the day came from a school lunch program that just lost funding.
It hurts the elderly woman choosing between keeping the lights on or filling her prescription.
It hurts the pregnant teen they forced to give birth, but won’t help feed her or the child she birthed.
It hurts the autistic adult denied SSI because they “look fine.”
It hurts the undocumented worker picking your strawberries, risking heat stroke, just to be paid less than minimum wage—while being told their life has no value.
It hurts your neighbor.
It hurts your friend.
It hurts your family.
It hurts you.
Maybe not today, but soon.
Because the thing about cruelty?
It doesn’t stop where it started.
It grows.
This bill isn’t about “saving money.”
It’s about deciding who is worth saving at all.
And if you think you’re safe because you’re middle class—
you are next.
You’re just one layoff, one illness, one accident away from being disposable.
They want you to feel alone in this.
To believe no one is coming to help.
But here’s the truth:
We still outnumber them.
We still have voices.
We still have fire.
And we will not go quietly.
We are not helpless.
We are not hopeless.
We are awake.
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