Defying the Darkness

It feels like an eternity, but Tuesday marks the seventh week of this regime. The reality sets in deeper every day: this is not politics as usual. It is something else entirely. This is not Trump 2.0, nor is it the world he built. It is the world he inherited—to use as his asset or plaything. Most of us are just collateral damage in the ambitions of larger men. This is not just another administration. It is a struggle between democracy and dictatorship, self-government and oligarchy. There is no middle ground. To remain neutral is to surrender.

Some cope by staying in denial, framing this as another partisan shift—Republican versus Democrat, conservative versus liberal. But that is a lie. There is nothing normal about this. Others have succumbed to despair, convinced the worst is inevitable—the collapse of America, the unraveling of civilization, the end of the planet itself. They have stopped reading the news, turned away from activism, given up. But that is exactly what Trump and his enablers want. They thrive on hopelessness, on silence, on inaction.

Defeatism is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we believe we are powerless, we are. Yet despite the damage this regime has inflicted, hope has not been extinguished. If anything, it burns brighter. Activism is surging. Courage is multiplying. I see it everywhere, as I am sure you do too.

How do we move forward? We resist—but not always in the ways we have been told resistance should look. Some take to the streets, some flood phone lines, some challenge power directly. Others choose a quieter path, refusing to feed the machine that enables this corruption. We stop mindlessly consuming. We disengage from the spectacle designed to exhaust us. We react with care, considering the impact of our words and actions. We refuse to be manipulated by outrage or distraction. We reject the idea that our only choices are protest or passivity.

Some see no need to resist at all. They recoil from what they call identity politics, from anything that challenges their sense of normalcy. Their privilege shields them from the urgency of this moment. They mistake comfort for stability, their own ease for proof that nothing is truly wrong. It is a dangerous illusion, but one they will cling to as long as they can. Not everyone will fight. Not everyone will see the need. But for those who do, the work continues.

History warns us. Autocracy does not come in one form. It evolves, shaped by those who wield it and the systems that enable them. The warning signs are clear—power consolidates, dissent is punished, propaganda replaces truth, rights are eroded in the name of order. The mechanisms of fair elections undermined rather then protected. These patterns repeat across the world, across time. They do not always come draped in the symbols of the past, but their purpose is the same: control, submission, the elevation of a few at the expense of the many. We must recognize the mechanisms of authoritarianism as they unfold in real time.

We find strength in the next generation. Their fire, their humor, their refusal to accept a future defined by tyranny reminds us that nothing is set in stone. We hold onto our loved ones. We build our communities. We understand that solidarity is not just strategy—it is survival.

Resistance is not one-size-fits-all. It is found in how we live, in the choices we make every day. We resist by creating, by sustaining, by nurturing spaces where inclusivity flourishes and fear loses its grip. We protect the most vulnerable among us not just through protest but by ensuring they are supported, seen, and empowered. We invest in relationships, in local economies, in knowledge that cannot be erased by a single election cycle. We become intentional with our energy, our time, our presence.

This moment is a test. Some will look back and say they did nothing, that they let history happen to them. Others will say they fought in ways large and small, refusing to let the darkness spread without challenge. We decide now who we will be and what we will leave behind. When the atrocity of it all is laid bare, we will know who we have been.

Who we are now will determine who we become. The future is not distant—it is being written with every action, every choice we make today. What will we honestly leave behind? A world where silence enabled oppression, or one where justice, inclusion, and courage shaped the path forward?

The road ahead is uncertain, but it is ours to shape. We are not passengers in this moment. We are its authors. Resistance is not just about standing against something—it is about standing for something better, something just, something lasting. And whatever form that takes, the answer must be yes.