To My Children and Grandchildren
I need you to understand where I stood, not as a sterile footnote in history, but in the way a moment etches itself into your soul. The way you sense a storm before it arrives, the way the weight of an impending loss settles into your bones.
I fought back. Not with rage or reckless destruction, not by screaming into the void, but with clarity, with resolve, with a conscience that refused to be dulled. I did everything within my grasp to prevent him from seizing power. And when that effort was not enough, I remained unwavering in my defiance of everything he represented.
I did not break. I did not falter. I did not contort my principles to make room for the intolerable just because others did.
I refused to act as if this was acceptable.
I could not wake up one day and pretend that cruelty was just a flaw, or that integrity was negotiable for the sake of political gain. I could not pretend that deceit, bigotry, and the dismantling of democratic ideals were just personality traits to be tolerated.
I did not stand behind him. He did not represent me. He was unworthy of the responsibility he so eagerly sought to manipulate for his own gain. And I grieved. I grieved what his presence did to this nation. I grieved the way those I once respected contorted themselves into excuses and submission.
But sorrow alone was insufficient. I resisted.
I stood in opposition to him entirely. Not just against his disastrous policies or his inflammatory rhetoric, not just against his reckless manipulation of truth, —no, I opposed the entirety of what he was. His degradation of women. His scapegoating of the vulnerable. His intolerance of those who dared to challenge him. His war against honesty and fairness.
I stood against his rejection of dissent, his contempt for the law, his assault on the very notion of reality.
And when his worst offenses became undeniable, when he incited violence against his own country, when he conspired to overturn an election he lost, when he cozied up to dictators and celebrated tyranny, I did not pretend it wasn’t happening. I need you to understand that. I did not mute my voice to make life easier. I did not rationalize it as mere political strategy. I did not trade my values for comfort.
Many did. Some out of exhaustion, some out of fear, some because they had convinced themselves that resistance was futile. Some will say it was a complicated moment. It wasn’t.
When survivors spoke out against his abuses, I believed them. When he ridiculed those without power, I was repulsed. When he tore families apart and treated children as bargaining chips, I was outraged. When he emboldened extremists, I named it for what it was. When his dishonesty spread like wildfire, I refused to fan the flames.
There’s a saying that history belongs to those who win. That’s not the whole truth. The rest belongs to those who refuse to let it be rewritten. I will not let the past be rewritten. I will not smooth the rough edges to make them more palatable. I knew where I stood then, and I hold my ground now.
One day, you may find yourself at a similar crossroads, torn between what is easy and what is right. I want you to remember this: I did not bow, I did not surrender, and I did not excuse what should never be excused.
I hope you stand as I did.
Mitch Jackson, Esq. | links
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