It’s been a rough couple of years. Pandemic, riots, elections won (or, some claim, stolen), insurrections (or, some claim, concerned protests). It’s sometimes difficult to find common ground. I’m starting to feel very connected more recently to those who hearken back to “the old days” of the nuclear family, wholesome safe subdivisions, and father knows best.
I’m longing for the days when racists were so embarrassed they wore white sheets to hide their identity. When the fear of women and people of color was kept behind closed doors. When it wasn’t considered polite to be lectured to about your religious rights as an American. When it wasn’t considered appropriate to tell others everything that was on your mind. When blame wasn’t a substitute for accountability. When people didn’t describe themselves as American heroes for the Constitution in their anonymous, venomous posts. When people just kept quiet and lived their lives with their own bitterness and resentments neatly tucked inside their heads and homes.
Maybe in my old age, I’ve discovered American conservatism.
— Nicolas Wieder
Anchorage
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