COVID is over. That’s the single refrain of Conservative Americans right now. They shout it in red-faced, profanity-laden diatribes at the meetings of beleaguered school boards. They embody it as
So much to grieve over. It isn’t just their childish tantrums at being asked to wear a mask at the grocery store, or their nonsensical claims of personal oppression. It
The most common question people ask me when we talk either in person or virtually, is essentially a variation on a single theme: “How do I love someone I no
Recently, a Tennessee school board voted to ban Maus, a Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic novel about the Holocaust from their eight grade curriculum. This has become a familiar tactic of Republican
COVID is over. That’s the single refrain of Conservative Americans right now. They shout it in red-faced, profanity-laden diatribes at the meetings of beleaguered school boards. They embody it as
So much to grieve over. It isn’t just their childish tantrums at being asked to wear a mask at the grocery store, or their nonsensical claims of personal oppression. It
The most common question people ask me when we talk either in person or virtually, is essentially a variation on a single theme: “How do I love someone I no
Recently, a Tennessee school board voted to ban Maus, a Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic novel about the Holocaust from their eight grade curriculum. This has become a familiar tactic of Republican