“My 11-year-old, who is autistic, keeps talking about it,” Destiny told Kare11. “He was talking about it all night. I couldn’t sleep because I was scared.”
When I was a kid, someone threw a brick through my bedroom window as I was heading off to sleep. It scared me so much that I had trouble sleeping for literally years after that. I can't imagine how much worse the trauma of this must've been.
God, my heart hurts to hear these stories. I'm not in the US, so all I can do is spectate with growing dread and horror.
I've been trying hard to not let myself become numb to this though, nor become too focussed on the big picture of thinking about US's descent into fascism. I'm equally powerless on that scale of things as I am when witnessing stories like this, but I've found it's better to keep my focus on the small stories. It hurts to hear them, but that hurt is one that is fundamentally good, because it is compassion for my fellow humans. In an odd way, the hurt feels grounding because it's meant to hurt, because what is going on are crimes against humanity. I'd rather feel this than nothing because it reminds me of the humanity I share with the people who are being oppressed.

