WHERE ARE THE ADULTS!?

I keep waiting for someone to step up. Someone to say "enough." Someone to act like the grown-up in the room while our democracy gets picked apart piece by piece, norm by norm, institution by institution.

But here we are.

The guardrails we were promised would hold? They're bending. Breaking. Sometimes they're being deliberately dismantled by the very people we trusted to protect them. And meanwhile, too many of us are standing around waiting for someone else to fix it.

 The Slow-Motion Catastrophe

This isn't the dramatic collapse we see in movies. There's no single moment when everything falls apart. Instead, it's death by a thousand cuts. Voting rights chipped away state by state. Courts packed with ideologues. Truth itself becoming a casualty in the war for power.

We watch gerrymandering turn elections into foregone conclusions. We see disinformation spread faster than wildfire while social media platforms shrug their shoulders. We witness the slow strangulation of local journalism—the very lifeblood of an informed citizenry.

And what do we do? We tweet about it. We share articles with people who already agree with us. We feel outraged for about fifteen minutes before the next crisis grabs our attention.

 Where's the Urgency?

I'm tired of being told to "trust the process" when the process is being systematically sabotaged. I'm exhausted by calls for civility while one side plays by rules that no longer exist. When institutions fail us, when norms crumble, when the social contract gets shredded—what then?

The adults in the room? They're either complicit, compromised, or caught up in their own political calculations. They're playing chess while the other side is flipping over the board.

 But Here's What I Can Do

Passive resistance isn't passivity. It's choosing to act within the constraints of a broken system while working to fix it from the inside out.

I can vote. Not just in presidential elections, but in every single election. School board, city council, state legislature. These races matter. They're often decided by hundreds of votes, sometimes dozens. Your vote actually counts here.

I can pay attention. Real attention. Not just to the outrage du jour, but to the boring, unsexy work of local governance. Who's running for county clerk? What's happening at town halls? Democracy dies in darkness, but it also dies from neglect.

I can support independent journalism. Subscribe to local papers. Fund investigative reporting. Democracy needs a free press like plants need sunlight.

I can engage my community. Real conversations with real people. Not online debates, but face-to-face discussions with neighbors who might see things differently. Democracy is a participatory sport.

I can support organizations doing the work. Groups defending voting rights, promoting transparency, fighting corruption. Put your money where your values are.

I can run for something. Even if it's just the PTA. Democracy needs participants, not just spectators.

 The Stubborn Hope

Here's the thing that keeps me going: this country has been through worse. We've survived civil war, depression, world wars, social upheaval, constitutional crises. Each time, ordinary people stepped up when institutions failed.

The hope isn't that someone else will save us. The hope is that enough of us will decide to save ourselves.

The adults aren't coming. We are the adults.

Democracy isn't a spectator sport. It's not something that happens to us—it's something we do. Every day. In small ways and big ones. In voting booths and town halls and neighborhood meetings and difficult conversations with people we love.

It's messy and frustrating and exhausting. It requires patience and persistence and a willingness to believe that our actions matter even when it feels like they don't.

But what's the alternative? Giving up? Letting it all fall apart while we wait for someone else to fix it?

Not on my watch.

The question isn't whether there are adults in the room. The question is whether we're ready to become them.

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What are you going to do? Because sitting this out isn't an option anymore.