Democracy Made Me Do It

This Fourth of July, I’m sitting here with a whole sampler platter of emotions — pride, frustration, determination, and a stubborn little nugget of hope that refuses to leave the party even though it’s clearly exhausted. It’s not the classic red‑white‑and‑blue vibe, but honestly, neither am I.

The freedoms generations fought for are being “challenged,” which is the polite word I’m using because it’s a holiday and I’m trying to keep my blood pressure in the human range. So instead of grilling or floating in a pool like a normal American, I’m spending my morning writing postcards for a national Get Out the Vote campaign. Apparently democracy saw me wake up and said, “Perfect — you’re conscious. Here’s 400 tiny assignments.” I didn’t realize I’d become Democracy’s unpaid summer intern, but here we are.

And look, it’s absurd. It’s repetitive. It’s the least glamorous Fourth of July activity imaginable. But it’s also grounding. One postcard at a time, I’m trying to nudge the universe toward sanity. It’s like whispering “please” into the void and hoping the void is in a good mood today.

I glance out at the flag waving on our balcony — very majestic, very dramatic, very “I have seen some things.” It’s flapping around like it’s checking in on me: “You good?” And honestly… debatable. But I take a breath anyway. Because even in the mess — even with the worry, the exhaustion, the “why am I handwriting democracy on a holiday” energy — I still believe in this country’s ability to rise to the moment. I still believe people show up. I still believe that hope, even when it’s running on caffeine and stubbornness, can shift things.

So yes, my emotions today are mixed. But they’re mine. And they’re rooted in love for a country that has never been perfect, but has always been worth fighting for — even when it feels like it’s actively trying to test my patience.

And as I sit here surrounded by postcards, pens, iced coffee, and the quiet determination of this morning, I realize something: this whole moment — the mess, the humor, the heart — belongs right in Empathy on the Rocks. Because today, I’m holding all the feelings, all the edges, all the contradictions… and somehow, still choosing hope.