We were warned.
First, they came for the trans kids and migrants. We called it "politics".
Then they came for words, books, and facts. We called it "controversy".
Now they're coming for the vote. And we're still calling it "polarizing".
Stop calling it anything.
Call it arson.
They told us democracy dies in darkness. But darkness is just the absence of light. And we are the ones who forgot to carry the flame.
I grew up in a world where politics was a spectrum, not a knife fight. There was one rule, unspoken but iron: No torches.
Not in the Parliament. Not at the hospitals. Not at the libraries.
We argued over taxes, healthcare, and the pace of progress. But we did not argue over whether democracy was worth keeping.
Now the torches are lit.
And the people holding them? They're not outsiders. They're our neighbours. Our representatives. Our families.
This old reality is ash now. In its place, I see a new divide: Builders and Predators.
The Predators are easy to spot.
They wear their cruelty like a crown. They call dissent treason, call kindness weakness, call facts "fake" until the lie feels safer than the truth.
They are the men (and it's almost always men) who grin as they sign laws to erase trans kids, who cheer as libraries burn, who send migrants into the sea and call it "deterrence."
They are not hiding. They want you to see.
They are not strong. They are starving. Starving for your fear, your hesitation, your polite refusal to name them for what they are.
The Builders? We're harder to recognize.
We're the ones they count on to look away.
We're the teachers buying supplies for empty classrooms.
We're the nurses working double shifts in underfunded hospitals.
We're the coders building apps to track outlaw police brutality.
We're the grandmothers standing between fascists and their neighbours.
We're the kids filming brutality with our phones, because we know the Predators only fear two things: witnesses and consequences.
We are not the minority.
We are the silent majority.
And silence is a choice we're done making.
Here is what the Predators fear: We outnumber them.
Here is what they hope: That we won't notice.
Notice this:
When they ban a book, we will print a thousand.
When they jail a journalist, we will become the press.
Builders don't wait for permission.
We don't ask if we'll win.
We ask: What can I carry?
This is not a metaphor.
This is a toolbox.
Pick up a tool.
Build!
The night is long. But we outnumber the dark.