“The most important office in a democracy is the office of citizen.” ~ Barack Obama

Before I even sit up in bed, one word echoes through my body like a drumbeat: Why?

Why is this happening?

I’ve written before about the importance of becoming an inner sanctuary and of turning to stillness and compassion to stay calm, centered, and even joyful in these chaotic times.

I also believe in telling the truth. Most of the time, I wake up in pain, and even in my dreams, I’m restless.

I believe in the power of meditation and I also believe in letting ourselves feel everything. Grief, rage, numbness, and exhaustion.

To be human in this world right now means holding joy and sorrow. Hope and heartbreak. We’re not doing it wrong if we’re heartbroken. We’re doing it right if we’re still feeling at all.

For the last six months and more, the word—why—keeps burning through me.

Why is this happening? How can this be real? How is it that we are watching cruelty and inhumanity play out on such a large scale and so many people seem numb, checked out, or even cheering it on?

• My “why” is about Project 2025, and my “why” is about the agenda to take away our rights, our histories, our truths, and our freedoms piece by piece.

• My “why” is about mass deportations, attacks on trans rights, banning of books, and policies that punish the poor, people with disabilities, the LGBTQ+ community, immigrants, women, people of color, and anyone with a conscience.

• My “why” is about what happens when we normalize cruelty, treat authoritarian ideas as just another political opinion, scroll past headlines as if they’re not about real human lives, and we start to believe we’re powerless to stop any of it.

This is no longer about Republicans versus Democrats. This is about democracy versus fascism.

It’s about remembering that democracy is not a guarantee. It’s an idea, an experiment, and a fragile promise that depends on us. As Obama reminds us: The most important office in a democracy is the office of citizen.

So, what do we do to counteract the “why?” We rise. We speak. We care.

We go to town hall meetings, join non-violent protests, write letters to our representatives, ask questions, show up, and speak up. Especially now, while Congress is on vacation until September.

Find one issue at a time that touches your heart and commit to that one.

Stay informed of the news without becoming the toxicity of the news.

Keep educating yourself—reading, listening, or watching non-Partisan political historians like Heather Cox Richardson.

Talk to your neighbors—even those with whom we don’t agree.

Vote.

Organize, and join organizations like Indivisible.

Resist. Create. Find moments of joy. Walk in nature. Stay calm and brave.

Don’t give up.

Remember that we are all immigrants or descendants of immigrants. Don’t think to yourself, “Oh, they’re just taking the immigrants who are murderers or illegally here.” Or, “Oh, it’s just ‘them’ they are kidnapping.”

They are us, and as the saying goes, “But for the grace of God go I.”

Most of us are a minority in some way. Whether we are the wrong color, gender, too poor, disabled, too old—whatever it is, it could be their “why.”

We could be taken away just because we are the ones they hate—the ones who believe in human rights, diversity, and kindness.

A good story: Years ago, I was teaching a class on the healing power of music in Springfield, Massachusetts. I walked into the auditorium and quickly realized that the entire audience was filled with Spanish-speaking migrant workers.

And, I didn’t speak Spanish.

I felt a tsunami of insecurities, until magic rolled in. We connected anyway. We sang. We danced. We laughed. They asked questions, and someone interpreted. I used gestures, tone, and my open heart of love, and in turn they responded with openness and joy. They even gave me a standing ovation!

It became one of the most moving and beautiful classes I’ve ever taught. They were full of joy, worked hard, were eager to learn, and so incredibly grateful to be here. They were me and I was them, and they felt relief and joy that they lived in a land that they could call their safe home.

This is the America we are fighting to preserve, and living here includes the right to learn and the right to teach the whole truth of history to everyone. Everyone needs to know about:

>> Slavery
>> Japanese internment
>> The Holocaust
>> Women’s suffrage
>> Civil rights
>> Black leaders and inventors
>> Immigrant voices
>> Trans and queer stories

We can’t allow the very truths that shaped this country, the good, the bad, and the shameful, to be erased.

We can’t pretend there was no Holocaust, no racism, no internment camps, no banned books, no brutality, and no courage.

We can’t allow those truths to be rewritten or deleted. If they grab any one of us and our history, they come for all of us.

This isn’t a drill. It’s already happening. But it is not too late.

If we are breathing, we can stand up.

If we can still feel, even when it hurts, we are not numb.

If we’re not numb, we are alive.

Aliveness matters.

That fire inside you—the one whispering, “This isn’t right”—matters. We each have a role.

Your voice counts. Your heart matters. Your care is a kind of activism.

We aren’t done. Not yet. Not ever.

And still, my original question circles back louder than ever as I write this piece:

WHY?

Why are we letting this happen?

Why are we afraid to face it, name it, and feel it?

Why are we quiet when the world is asking for our courage?

Why are we pretending it doesn’t touch us?

Let’s not leave that question unanswered. Let it rattle us. Wake us. Move us to act, to love, and to remember our deepest truths.

In the end, the real question is not “why” this is happening.

The real question is: Will we rise to meet it?

“Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and help redeem the soul of America.” ~ John Lewis