What Kind of World?

They watch.

They listen.

* Sammy’s dad is proud of how he almost pushed that bus off the side of the road with his truck. He’s proud because he got confirmation that it was okay and well done. The confirmation of “I love Texas” was all he needed. The boy sees the look of satisfaction on his father’s face. There must be something good about bullying and intimidation.

* The man at the podium mocks a reporter for his disabilities, his inability to use his arms. People laugh. Sarah, the little girl with cerebral palsy sits in a wheelchair, watches.

* I was only two when my mommy said in our native tongue, “It’s okay. We left the bad guys behind. We will be safe here.” But the place was crowded, dirty. People in uniforms yelled. Then they took Mommy away. She hasn’t come back for me. I’m forgetting what she looks like.

* My grandma lives in Kenya. I’ve been to her yellow house and have seen the animals run free on our drives outside of town. Now I’m worried because the President says Grandma lives in a shithole.

* Name-calling is okay now. “He” calls people “irrelevant,” “stupid,” “clown,” “crazy,” “nut job,” “dopey,” “dummy,” “nasty.” So why is my third-grade teacher so mad at me for calling Billy a sucker?

* I try to concentrate on the computer screen where my fourth grade teacher is teaching us about science. But why should I listen if science isn’t real? I hear my parents talking from the living room. They say the president seems to hate everyone who doesn’t look like him or think the way he thinks. They wonder how this man can’t wrap his arms around the saddened, or allow a child touch his head to feel his hair like Obama did. He doesn’t make snow angels in the snow with his children or go to his child’s or grandchild’s recital. Does he have grandchildren? Does his like them? Does he like me? Apparently not.

This author thinks about the children. I grit my teeth, a specific spot on the left side. The headache continues.

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