I recently told a family member who has been reading my blog: I don’t hate Donald Trump. I don’t hate the Proud Boys. I don’t even hate the Christian nationalists who shout Bible verses while clenching AR-15s and making muscles. Hate is what they want. Hate and grievance is what they feed on. It’s the oxygen and endorphins of their political identity.

Currently, the extreme American right wing wants outrage. They want to trigger you. That’s the whole game. Provoke, inflame, deflect, repeat. They poke and prod, praying for a viral clip of a so-called “liberal meltdown” so they can fundraise off the aftermath and claim another false victory in the culture war on Instagram. They want you furious. They want you to rage. Because in their warped political theater, outrage becomes their evidence. They twist protest into proof. They call resistance “radical,” scholarship “indoctrination,” inclusion “discrimination,” and truth “lies.”

It’s not just cynical—it’s strategic and tragic.

For example, a recent CNN exchange between Abby Phillips and conservative commentator Scott Jennings. Jennings tried—repeatedly—to bait Phillip into calling him a Holocaust denier. She didn’t take the bait. But that didn’t stop him from pretending she had. That’s the tactic: create the drama, spin the victimhood, and change the subject from justice to grievance.

It’s all performative. All projection. All distraction. And it’s all been done before in authoritarian countries.

So no, I’m not triggered. I’m activated.

While they play checkers, we’re playing chess. They think it’s about who yells louder, who tweets faster, who owns the libs harder. But here’s what they’re actually up against: organized communities. Legal strategies. Data. Coalitions. Institutional memory. Generational wisdom. A movement that has outlived Bull Connor, George Wallace, Joe McCarthy—and will outlast them, too.

Here’s the part they really don’t understand: I don’t have time to hate you. I’m too busy working to defeat you.

They call it “anti-male discrimination” when a program focuses on uplifting Black women. They call it “reverse racism” when a school adopts a culturally relevant curriculum. They scream “Marxism” when we teach accurate history. They ban books and call it freedom. They silence professors and call it patriotism.

And now they want to act shocked—shocked—when we call these moves what they are: fascist.

But fascism doesn’t always show up wearing jackboots. Sometimes it shows up wearing a flag pin, talking about “restoring order,” and handing out pens at a signing ceremony to dismantle civil rights protections. And when we call it out, they cry foul. They say we’re the divisive ones.

But let’s be honest. They’re not afraid of our language. They’re afraid of our truth.

They don’t want you angry—they want you distracted. They want to bait you with memes, taunt you with soundbites, and drown you in bad-faith arguments until you either burn out or blow up. And when you do, they’ll play the victim—again.

But we’ve seen this before. These are tried and tired tactics. This is what authoritarians do when they feel their grip slipping. They provoke. They gaslight. They try to turn your righteousness into rage so they can paint you as the problem.

So no, I won’t hate you. But I will out-organize you.

We’ve entered an another civil rights era where being calm, strategic, and focused is an act of revolution. When the far right attacks diversity, we strengthen it. When they silence voices, we amplify them. When they erase history, we preserve it. When they spread lies, we counter with facts, community, and lived experience.

You want to see hate? You want to see where the real violence is? Google “Nazi.” Google “Proud Boys.” Google “Christian nationalism.” Read the manifestos. Watch the footage from Charlottesville and January 6. Look at the Proud Boys’ ties to lawmakers and their requests for pardons. Look at the arrests, the threats, the political assassinations in Minnesota. Even Donald Trump’s attacker in Pennsylvania had a right wing voting record. Look at the plans outlined in Project 2025—a blueprint for authoritarian rollback, mass firings of federal employees, and the elimination of protections for the most vulnerable among us.

That’s hate. That’s danger. That’s what we’re fighting.

But how do we respond?

Not with destruction—but with discipline.

When they try to destroy, we organize. When they lie about our communities, we lift up our truths. And when they come with force, we come with faith—faith in the people, in democracy, in each other.

They sent the National Guard. They arrested elected officials. They deployed Marines to neighborhoods. And how did we respond?

Not with riots. Not with guns. Not with fear.

The Left Wing responded with the largest peaceful protests in the history of the United States. No kings. No tyrants. No masters. Just millions of people in the streets—Black, white, brown, queer, immigrant, student, elder—all saying the same thing: You will not break us.

They brought illegal militarized force. We brought collective will. They brought propaganda. We brought facts. And we’re still here—louder, stronger, and more united than they ever expected.

So here’s what you get from us:

You get action—real, coordinated, and unapologetic. We’re suing in federal court. We’re building curricula. We’re protecting libraries. We’re running for school boards, city councils, and state legislatures. We’re flipping red seats. We’re defending our communities.

You get persistence—the kind our ancestors embodied. We know justice takes time. We know this fight didn’t start yesterday, and it won’t end tomorrow. But we also know who we are—and we’re not going anywhere.

You get patience—because we understand the long game. The other side wants a reaction. We want justice. They want chaos. We want change. And change takes time, strategy, and love.

And most importantly, you get determination to win.

Because we are not here to play defense anymore. We are not trying to slow the bleeding. We are not managing decline. We are building the next America—the one we were promised but never delivered.

They say we’re too radical. But what’s more radical: banning books or reading them? Silencing teachers or supporting them? Attacking students or protecting them? Whitewashing history or learning from it?

If standing up for truth, equity, and democracy is radical, then so be it. Call me radical. Call me woke. Call me whatever helps you sleep at night. Because at the end of the day, we’ll still be here doing the work for all communities.

And let’s be clear: this isn’t about political parties anymore, ask the Republican critics of the current administration. It’s about moral clarity. It’s about the future of public education. It’s about the soul of democracy. And yes, it’s about power—who gets to have it, who gets to hoard it, and who gets to build it collectively.

They want us to be afraid. But we’re not. We’re focused.

They want us to hate. But we love too much for that.

They want us to quit. But we’re just getting started.

You can ban every book, fire every DEI officer, arrest every protestor—but you can’t stop a people who’ve found their voice. You can’t erase a generation of youth that’s already awake. And you can’t outmaneuver a movement built on justice, joy, and a refusal to be silent.

So no, I’m not triggered. I’m activated.

And we’re coming—for your policies, escalating political oppression, and your playbook.

We’re not coming with hate. We’re coming with community power.

Because the future doesn’t belong to those who troll.

It belongs to those who build.