Betrayal on a Grander Scale

Of course, a lot has happened in the last week. I was hoping that betrayal wouldn't become a theme, but I'm realizing that it does come in all sizes. There’s the sharp, personal kind—the one from last week. The one you feel in your bones when someone you love turns their back. And then there’s the big, slow-moving betrayal, the kind that doesn’t come with a scream or a slam of the door but arrives in the mail, in court rulings, in press conferences, in the fine print. That’s the one we’re living with now.

This morning, I read about the Federal government once again steamrolling over California's decisions, like they’re a misbehaving child that has to be punished. It’s not even about disagreement anymore; it’s about control—control over anyone and any state. We vote, we legislate, we try to shape the world we live in with some kind of compassion, and then the Regime swoops in as if we don't know how to govern ourselves. Like the people don't count. Like the vote is just a suggestion.

It’s a betrayal that smells familiar. It reeks like it does when someone thinks they know better than you about your body, your future, your home. It’s suppression dressed up in law and order. And it's exhausting.

California isn’t perfect. Lord knows they’ve got their issues. But they try to govern with compassion. They reach toward justice. They pass laws that protect queer folks and immigrants and trees and rivers and renters. And every time they do, some Fox talking head decides they have gone too far and that radical socialism is ruining the country.

I talked to Pen about it over toast this morning. She just shook her head and said, “Same old story.” And she’s right. Whether it’s your family or your country, betrayal hits the same: life, your choices, your voice don’t count. Like you can be overridden because some power-hungry dictatorial regime is convinced it knows best.

But here’s the thing: I'm too old to be overridden.

I know no enlightenment or apology is coming. That’s not how power works. But I can still bear witness. I can still talk about it. I can still hold my ground.

So today, I’m lighting a candle for all the people who know what it feels like to be betrayed by the very system you’ve believed in all your life.

If age has taught me anything, it’s this: the fuck off doesn’t have to be loud to be final.