With every new Donald Trump announcement or proclamation that draws on the worst in us, I think about my daughter.
She’s young, only twenty-five. Her life is really just beginning. She’s at the age where you create dreams about the future, think about the life you will lead, let your hopes and aspirations wander as they will. Anything is possible. All doors are open. This is a moment we cherish for our children and try our best to prepare them for. We had such moments when we were young. They only appear once, and they are glorious, full of exciting uncertainty and potential. In those moments, we can be anything, do anything. Why not?
I had that freedom to dream, that open chance at optimism, when I was young. Now that I’m not young, I know well how precious that dreaming was.
But every morning I get up to some new haughty, unsettling declaration by Donald Trump that I know must infringe on those freshly minted dreams my daughter and others like her are making. His denial of climate change is possibly the most arrogant of his declarations. With that, he commandeers the safety and well-being of our planet and its people.
WBUR in Boston reported recently on the growing problem of climate anxiety. I have had conversations with younger people, some of whom have decided not to have children because of the precarious state of our future. What about the many of us who do have children? What of those young people who, despite the times, want children?
It’s hard to build dreams, those most delicate of bridges, in such an atmosphere of darkness. I am so angry at Trump. I am angry at him for many reasons, but mainly I am angry at him for stealing the future.
How dare he. How dare he pollute the ability for young people to plan their futures in serenity and peace and with hope. I’m calling him out for the thief he is.