Thanks

And here we are. The holiday that gussies up genocide in exchange for tryptophan. In a country that dresses up autocratic Nazi despotism as politics as usual. 

It's become increasingly difficult to engage with the outside world these past few weeks.  Spending one of them in Portland, Oregon, took a bit of the edge off.  Spending time between here and Los Angeles reminded me that not only was it not a mandate that sealed our fate, but, that there are plenty of people just as angry and scared as I am.

The fear. That's the hardest part. I've made a life of being fearless.  Saying what I think. Doing what I want. Not letting risk outweigh the importance of good and right. And while those characteristics have certainly hurt me (and those I love), I've never once been scared of using them. Of letting my gut tell me when it's time to stand up and when it's time to walk out. 

A few years ago, I was put in one of those situations by DC Comics. And there wasn't a second of hesitation when I walked out the door on a career I'd fought for a decade plus to build, because, I know what's right, and I know what's wrong. 

But it fucking hurt. It hurt financially. It hurt me socially. It hurt me psychologically. While I'll be eternally grateful to Marvel and Axel Alonso for helping me get over the rough spot I was in, it also was a true moment of change for me. I knew the day I said, "no more," I wouldn't last much longer as a comic book writer. 

And so I moved over to television. A dream I'd had, the very reason I'd moved to Los Angeles in 2001, and something that has brought me more success and happiness than virtually any other job I've ever had. And, it's been a place where I can be myself. Where I can have my politics, and my hard headed beliefs in what is right and wrong, and how people should be treated, and what our responsibility is to our audience. 

But now... First, we live in a different world. A world of persecution. Of thought police on a scale never imagined. And secondly, our President-Elect has shown us what he thinks of those who stand against what he stands for.

But as a person who tells stories. Who believes in the inherent kindness of humanity. Of the power of community, and love. Of the weakness and foolishness of hate and authoritarianism, how can we tell stories that do anything but repudiate him and his followers.  

Do we tell stories about the happy Nazi who convinced his whole town to burn a family alive because of the color of their skin? Do well tell a modern twist on 1984 where Winston Groom realizes just how much better he is to have been brainwashed back into the system? Or do we tell the story of Billy Pilgrim, unstuck in time, and able to see the error in his ways fighting a monster with funny hair? Or, perhaps, we can do a remake of The Stand where Randall Flagg has some really interesting ideas about economics to share with our heroes. 

No. We tell stories about the other. The unique. The brave. The bold. Those who preach kindness over hate, and see violence as a last defense, not as an opening salvo. For people who understand what a centuries worth of enlightened thinkers have preached. That we are one species. One family. Struggling together for a better world. Not hurling bullets or insults, not slowly destroying each other for the sake of protecting ones own.

I am scared. And I say that knowing full well that the color of my skin will camouflage my religion and my immigrant parents. I lay in bed worried that when they come for us, the voters who chose this modern day Satan will not chant for my destruction, but simply shrug and say, "But, at least now the trains run on time." 

I'm scared, I realize, for one reason. What I did all those years ago when I walked away from my career was fucking hard. Harder than anything I'd ever done before. Harder, I thought, than anything I'd ever have to do again. And yet, here we are. 

And if I'm worried about what I would do, how could I not be completely terrified what everyone else will do? 

Apartheid

I've been chewing over a conversation I had with my Dad the day after the election.  

My parents fled Apartheid-era South Africa. They moved here in the late 70's, just in time for me to be born. They brought their two kids away, to find a better life that wasn't living in a terrifying, backwards police state. They came to America for opportunities for their children. For opportunities for themselves. And, in some part, to rid themselves of the disgusting culture of Apartheid. 

So, when I talked to my dad about the implications of the election, that the racist and xenophobic rhetoric was just that, rhetoric. That only a small part of the population believed those disgusting lies, and the rest are just going along. That human beings inherently know right from wrong.

And my father, a Forensic Psychiatrist with more time spent with the inner working of human beings minds than almost any living person on earth said the most haunting words I've ever heard.

"No. They don't." He went on to talk about South Africa and how the vast majority of the population didn't just let what was happening go, they actively encouraged it. They believed that the Africans were subhumans and that if they weren't controlled rigidly, they'd bring absolute chaos. 

It wasn't just a small pocket. It was what was taught in schools. It was what was considered the 'average' opinion. 

And now, with a white supremacist and his cronies in the White House, the news media saying, "Everything is fine," and life forcefully beginning again from this wreckage, I just ask you to consider is that the world you want to live in? A world where Muslims, Latinos, African-Americans, LGBTQ, Jews, women, and any people other than white, male Christians are less than. Deserving of punishment, ridicule, and, eventually, annihilation.

That's the President we've elected. This is the world we live in. 

It's up to us to change it. 

An apology.

To my little girl, on this week of turmoil, and heartbreak, and fear.

I never thought I'd be this scared. It feels remarkably un-dad-like to me. I've laid in bed for nearly a week, sleepless, anxious, betrayed. And it is very root is my love of you. My hope for your future. Not just as an engineer or a doctor or an artist or whatever you damn well want to be, but, in a world that would accept you for what you can do, and who you are, not for what you look like.

I thought while we lived in a world with dark, sad things, that for the most part, the good guys find a way to win. And now, I have to constantly remind myself that must still somehow be true. 

When I look at you and I see the beauty of your soul beaming out of those gorgeous brown eyes, my heart breaks. I force back the tears, for what's going to come over the next few years. The irreparable damage that this country has done to itself, and i pray it's not a mortal wound, while being pretty damn sure it is. 

I look at you and every time I ask you the same question. "What's the most important thing in the world?" And you think, and you smile and you say, "Being kind." Then you smile broader and you say, "And you and mommy." 

The truth is that a lot of people don't think that way. The truth is that people pushed aside cruelty in their candidate to instead look out for themselves and their interests. For fear for of losing their pot, they pissed in everyone else's. For the sake of a few pieces of silver, they betrayed the very foundations of society. Respect, love, and compassion.

I'm sorry that I didn't do more. I'm sorry that I feel powerless to change this. I'm sorry for the mistakes I've made, and the mistakes that the people around me have made.  I'm sorry for the fragility of humanity itself. That so easily can villainy push out heroism. I'm sorry for the stories I've told that didn't face this dead on. I'm sorry that I couldn't convince more people that there is a better way. 

I'm sorry for the world that you'll inherit. 

I'm not sorry for making you the kindest person I've ever met. It'll be hard to understand the world that you're going into, but, I have the utmost faith in your ability to make it a better place.

I wish I could say the same for everyone else. 

Magic

I took my daughter to our local magic store today. It was... I suppose necessary isn't the word, but, we really needed it. 

Magic is important for the two of us for a few reasons.  First, it's a little language we can share. Something (like Pokemon and Yo-Kai Watch) that's really just for us to talk about and cherish. Our own special thing, that I hope one day she shares with her kids, and so on. 

The bigger reasons, though, and certainly the reasons for today's trip, is to teach my little girl three important lessons.  One, there is always joy and wonder to be found in the world.  Even with a few simple tools... some pieces of paper, foam balls, and metal cups can add up to a feeling of joy and exhilaration like almost nothing in the world. 

Two, most times that joy and wonder is a trick. But that doesn't make it a bad thing. We get tricked and fooled every day. But, in magic and in the real world, those tricks fall into a few basic categories, and once you can recognize them, you see them everywhere.  The inner workings of humanity itself can be observed. Identified. Learned. Adapted. Manipulated.

Three, responsibility with what you've learned.  She learns the tricks, performs the tricks, and, most importantly, learns how to use them to give others that feeling of joy and delight. And with that, the realization that part of what makes the trick magic is not sharing that with your audience.  Leave them amazed, because what's going on back stage... is usually pretty pedestrian.

So, I took her there today to show her that while the world is in a state of chaos and unrest, there is still beauty. But, there are also still tricks. Now she just has to learn the difference.

Facing the Darkness Ahead

The past forty eight hours have been immensely difficult to understand.

Sitting there watching the returns, fresh out of surgery, and hopped up on surgical grade anesthetic, my wife, daughter, and our friends in the next room, I knew it was just a matter of time before they won.

When I say them, I don't mean Republicans. I mean cowards. The people who live in fear of progress. Fear of the boogeymen who would steal their jobs and make them obsolete. Fear of the 'other' stealing their 'things,' be they cultural, financial, spiritual, or otherwise. 

This fear has permeated our country to a point that an ideologue who's entire gimmick is to talk to these baseless, unfounded fears, was an inevitable winner of the election. No amount of phone calls or memes or rape proclamation/accusations would change that. 

So, after a sleepless night on Tuesday into Wednesday, my wife and I sat on my daughters bed to gently wake her up and to tell her that the good guys lost, and the cowards won.  Tuesday afternoon we'd had her parent teacher conference, and the word her teacher used to describe her most succinctly was empathetic. And, so, we talked to her about empathy.

We told her that when people are scared or fearful, they become selfish. And that this week, selfishness won the day, but, that empathy will always win the war. Understanding people, sympathizing with them, and never losing your care and love for them is the only way to win. And so, in the face of all of this fear and hate, be loving, be kind, and be sympathetic.

That's what we told our six year old.

But here's the truth.

We are entering a period of darkness. Our country teeters on the edge of being a police state. Where anyone different, be it of color, sex,vreligion, or by politics is a threat to the tiny, bigoted coward that somehow just got put in charge. 

And we can only do one thing to combat that darkness.  Burn bright. Burn as bright as we can for the immigrants, the muslims, and the LGBTQ people in our lives. If not because it's the right thing to do, then because I assure you, you will be next. The anti-semitism that runs through his rhetoric, the anti-media bias, the thin skinned threats of censorship of any thing he disagrees with, those are no longer just empty threats.  They are our reality.

There will come a day when they will come for me. Just like there will likely be a day that they come for you. We stand on the edge of a full blown return of fascism the likes of which we could never imagine facing again.

I feel impotent. Completely devoid of power to do anything. And that's what I hear from all of the like-minded people in my life. 

But, that's just not true. We can do something. We can fight. We can shout. We can protest. We can continue to tell stories that talk to the truth of the human condition. We can be the resistance, fighting against an obvious and looking threat. We may not be able to stop it before it starts, but we can fight for what is right, and at least show the world that this man and his cronies do not represent us or are belief structures. 

We are not that far removed from the Holocaust. Even less from HUAC. Barely out of the atrocities of the Civil Rights Era. And here we are again.

So, yes. Be scared of the darkness. But, don't be like them. Be bold. Be brave. Burn bright. Be the light in the darkness. Do it for your kids. Do it for the future. Do it for America.