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When I was 12-years old I began a spiritual journey. My friends and family were confused because for much of my earlier years I used to hate going to church. I would spend Sunday mornings pouting while being forced to put on a suit and walk the two block distance to Ebeneezer Baptist Church on Wyoming street. Once I arrived, I would go out of my way to ask difficult questions to my Sunday school teacher, and then come up with excuses to leave service early. I was never successful. My antics became famous amongst those who knew me, so when the decision was made that my step sister and I would no longer need to attend church services, no one was expecting me to find my way back to religion on my own.

That “return to Christ” as my step-mother called it, was less about a desire for a closeness to God, it was driven by a deep curiosity. The God that I learned about in Sunday school, the one that my family talked about was the God I was told I should love, but everything I knew about him made me feel the opposite. From what I learned in their stories, this God had given us life, placed Adam and Eve in a Garden, put a plant there that they shouldn’t eat from, and then got mad at them when they ate it. Even at the tender age of 10-years old, I thought that was passive aggressive as fuck. The foundational story in the bible made me suspicious of the entity I was told to worship blindly, and things didn’t get any better from there.

When he wasn’t entrapping his own children, he was urging them to kill their own to prove their love, allowing the devil to bring suffering to his believers in the name of a wager, or drowning entire civilizations because they had angered him. I couldn’t understand how anyone could hear any of this and feel overwhelming love. I feared him, and what he would do if I didn’t worship him, and because his rage felt so arbitrary, I grew to resent him. That resentment was what drove me away from the church, and when I would press my Sunday school teacher, or the pastor, they would always promise that God “mellows out in the new testament” I didn’t believe them, but I wanted to see it for myself, so at 12, I decided I would read the book from cover to cover.

In some ways, my pastor and Sunday School teacher were right, God did mellow out, but that’s mostly because he wasn’t the main character in this book. Jesus was the protagonist of the New Testament, at least from my point of view, and what stuck out to me then, and what still stands out now, was the story of Jesus Christ. A man who was made in the mold of God like no other person before our time, but whose teachings felt so more compassionate, open and loving.

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The story of Jesus Christ was one that taught me that men could be tender, we could be loving, and that strong men could show up for others. In fact, strong men should show up for others, especially those who are considered weak, those who are outcasted by society, and those who have fallen short of their best-selves. And despite his role as “son of God” Jesus had a background that I could understand. I was born to immigrant parents who came to the United States for a better life. My mother was deported before I uttered my first words, and my father was working hard to make ends meet. And while I lived in that reality, I got to read Jesus’ story as a homeless refugee whos’ parents fought hard to find a home, and had to do so in a land that was not originally their own.

Jesus functioned under a Government that was at the best of times indifferent to his existence, and in the most extreme cases, outwardly hostile, despite these circumstances, Jesus’ message was crystal clear throughout his life. He instructed his followers to “Love the Lord, and love God with all of your heart, and love your neighbors as yourself.”

Surprisingly, reading the New Testament brought me closer to Jesus, but much further from organized religion. I would attempt to return to the church a couple of times, but I would never again give my full heart to Christianity. It isn’t something that I thought was possible, but here I am. I’m not perfect, but every day I attempt to walk the path of a man who loves his neighbors, stands up for the poor, and pushes back against systems that look to exploit people.

It’s not always easy, but it’s a path worth walking. Along this path, I have discovered that one of my biggest obstacles has been some of the same forces that Jesus challenged. The ultra-wealthy, powerful elected officials, and a willingness to be decisive with violence and destruction. This has felt especially challenging when the people we have trusted to run our government and represent us at the national stage seem to support values that go against Jesus’s teachings. They view the world as theirs alone, giving them the authority to inflict physical, financial and emotional violence whenever they deem it necessary. Their capacity for destruction and pettiness reminds me of God from the Old Testament.

I see the same fickleness, I see the quickness to rage, I see the indiscriminate destruction of entire civilizations, and I hear the weak justifications of it being “God’s will.” But is it? I don’t think It is God’s will that over 70,000 Palestinians have been killed by American funded Israeli forces, I don’t think that it is God’s will for our president to hop on social media and threaten “Wiping out an entire civilization.” It can’t be! And if it is God’s will, is that something we would like to support? If the best that God’s will can do is create mass death and suffering, what could he possibly offer in the afterlife? How could it be any better?

This wasn’t where I intended to go when I started this essay, but sometimes the words escape you before your mind can catch up, so where we are. We’re in a moment where people with immense power are using God and religion to justify atrocious things, more people than we can fathom are suffering, and the world feels more unstable than maybe any other time in our modern era, in times like this, I think the only viable solution is to ask yourself, “What would Jesus do.” If you’re not sure, I’ll be happy to tell you. Jesus would fight for the disenfranchised, Jesus would defy those in power, he would chastise the wealthy for hoarding their money, he would love his neighbor. Not because it would get him anything in return, or that it might change something, he would do that because it was the right thing to do. And sometimes, when it feels like we can’t change anything around us, what we can do is the right thing. Choose love.

Congratulations, you made it to the end! Don’t leave just yet, I would love to hear from you as well. Think about answering one of these questions in the comments, or adding your thoughts when you share this post.

1. Have you ever walked away from an institution but kept the values it taught you? What did that look like for you?

2. Do you think people in power genuinely act from faith, or do they use faith to justify what they already wanted to do?

3. What teachings or beliefs from childhood have stayed with you—and which ones did you have to unlearn?

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On October 7th, 2016, then-candidate Donald Trump faced the biggest challenge to his unorthadox run for President. While prepping for his debate with Hilary Clinton, his team was interrupted by breaking news related to him. The Washington Post released audio of the candidate speaking disparagingly of women while on the Access Hollywood show with host Billy Bush. In the audio, Trump bragged, saying, “ You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful women. I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab em by the pussy, you can do anything.” In a world not yet used to the depths the president could go, political outcry was instant and fierce, with some Republicans even rescinding their support of Trump.

At first, I found Trump’s campaign amusing. I liked to think of him as a living humiliation ritual for the Republican Party, but after he won the nomination, the energy from his base was so strong that I began to worry he had a real chance to win. When the Access Hollywood audio dropped, I felt relieved, because surely this would be the end of his short but fiery reign. I was wrong. Despite the backlash and calls for him to drop out, Trump refused, and in the debate that followed, he brought in several women who had accused the former president of harassment and assault. This wasn’t the first time he would break norms, but it was one of the biggest at the time, and despite everything wrong with the audio, he was able to continue his candidacy as if nothing had happened.

Less than a month later, Trump defeated Hilary Clinton to become the 45th President of the United States.

Many perceived this as the moment when Trump proved impervious to any damage or consequences for his character inconsistencies. And it’s true that in the ten years since then, Trump has said and done much worse, and has rarely suffered a lasting negative impact from his base or even the broader electorate. I have spent a lot of time trying to make sense of our current reality. At face value, Trump goes against everything we say this country stands for, but somehow, he’s still here, thriving. That thought experiment has sent me into dark places, but I have been lucky enough to find the light, and in that ray of clarity, some understanding. Here is what I learned.

When people are struggling, and it feels like tough times are happening all around, it is human nature to gravitate towards those who seem strong. There is nothing wrong with strength, but our current collective understanding of what “real" strength looks like is how a Trump can exist. That understanding views strength through the prism of masculinity, a broken construct created to define manhood. Under masculinity, strength is defined by physical ability, dominance, selfishness, and consumption. And to accumulate the strength to move as you please, you must have power. That brings us to Trump. When Trump bragged about grabbing a woman “by the pussy” he wasn’t just talking flippantly; he was giving us a window into how he views power. In Trump’s mind, if you have the strength or are perceived to be powerful, you can do whatever you want, and no one can stop you.

After learning hard lessons, Trump has returned with a vengeance. The first thing he did was fill his administration with “yes men” and blind supporters. The kind of people with no actual expertise, but a deep desire to execute on whatever the president demands of them. Even if what he demands is morally repugnant or illegal. Earlier this year, the Department of Homeland Security, then led by Kristi Noem, deployed 2,000 ICE agents to the state of Minnesota to carry out an “immigration operation.” The deployment came shortly after Trump had made disparaging comments about Somali immigrants in the state, leading many to believe they were being targeted. Ice’s presence destabilized communities and caused more harm than good. Before the “operation” was completed, at least two people were killed after being shot by members of ICE, and the Trump administration refused to cooperate with local authorities.

This philosophy on power was exhibited again in Venezuela. After accusing President Maduro of trafficking drugs to the United States, the trump administration escalated even further. According to the New York Times, “U.S. military seized him and his wife in a swift and overwhelming strike on Caracas, the culmination of a campaign by President Trump and his aides to oust him from power.” This move was panned by many as illegal; despite these outcries, very little has been done to hold Trump accountable.

The interesting thing about this approach to power is that under the correct circumstances, it can seem overwhelming. For much of his second act, he has existed in such an environment. Despite some recent rumblings, the Republican Party has mostly followed him in lockstep, and his base is as ravenous in their support of him as ever. His natural opponent in the Democratic Party has rubber-stamped his appointments and spent more time going after progressives and critics of Israel’s destruction of Gaza. In the handful of moments where they have stood up, it has been through statements that do not threaten his power or attack the status quo. And with little to no opposition, he has been able to do as he pleases, while the rest of the world struggles to respond.

I know I’m not speaking for myself when I say it’s felt extremely disempowering to watch this cycle continue, and over the last few months, I have gone from actively speaking out against his administration to wondering if I should stop fighting for everyone else and get my own affairs in order. It’s a thought that scared me as soon as it formed: was I folding to his power like everyone else, or am I really this powerless?

But there is something else about this philosophy on power that is important to know. Those who believe they have carte blanche to move without repercussions are usually the least prepared when pushback occurs. And when one gets overly arrogant, it’s only a matter of time before they make a critical mistake. It seems that we are currently in that moment. After his actions in Venezuela, it seemed like Trump could do no wrong, so it was only a matter of time before he would aim for an even bigger target. We didn’t have to wait long. After what we will call some enthusiastic “encouragement” from Israel, Trump decided to take this approach to the Middle East. Ordering our military to begin bombing Iran in partnership with Israel. They believed that with a little pressure, they could force Iran to change its regime. Despite devastating destruction, Iran has continued to fight, and closed off the Strait of Hormuz, sending oil prices skyrocketing and destabalizing 20% of the world’s energy production.

Trump and co were not expecting them to do this, and it has sent them into a tailspin. Every day since the conflict began, the president has become more erratic, and our purpose for invading Iran becomes less clear. And finally, after a year and a half of getting everything he’s wanted, it looks like there is a limit to his power. But what should we take from this?

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What happens next with Iran and the Middle East is unclear, and I’m not a foreign policy expert, so I won’t pontificate on it. What I do understand is power: how to build it, wield it, and use it. Trump’s views on power are tied to the idea that certain people have the right to do and take what they want, and they should. People who think this way usually target those they believe are weaker than themselves.

\They do this because they aren’t actually as powerful as they project to be. And if more people had stood up when these type of people first started their reign of terror, the damage they caused could have been significantly reduced. Staying silent and choosing not to fight is a losing game. Because every time a Trump-like figure dominates a more vulnerable opponent, that facade slowly fades away until it is a fully realized entity with overwhelming strength, and when that moment comes, staying quiet, choosing to only care about ourselves, attempting to negotiate, pontificate, and appease will mean nothing, because we will be faced with our failures.

Congratulations, you made it to the end. What did you think of this post? Here are some helpful prompts to get you started:

1. Do you agree with how I define Trump’s view of Power and Strength?

2. Do you think our current views of Power/Strength are healthy?

3. Is there such a thing as healthy Power?

4. What do we need to do in order to find healthier versions of strength and leadership?

Thanks for being a subscriber to Let’s Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (mostly , Stanley Fritz and Karina Maria), write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to discuss important issues in a digestible and relatable way because nobody wants to read a TED Talk.

If you’re new, please consider subscribing. If you’re already on the list and have a few coins, consider upgrading to a paid subscriber. If you have commitment issues but want to contribute, you can buy me a coffee.

If you like my substack and want to discover other great writers, check out this directory from Marc Typo, The Cook-Out.

By Guest Contributor, Director, Álvaro Franco

I wanted to like “One Battle After Another”. I really did.

My life was changed when Paul Thomas Anderson released “There Will Be Blood” and “The Master”. In fact, “The Master” was the first film that I saw in native 65mm projected on the big screen, and it was at the Ziegfeld (R.I.P). And I thought that the idea of using only deleted scenes in most of the trailers advertising the film was so novel. But if someone says One Battle After Another is in the same league as the two earlier films, I can’t take them seriously.

The first 30-40 minutes of OBAA felt like a depiction of what a millionaire thinks Antifa does—or means—filled with crass stereotypes and over-sexualized scenarios.

Overall, it resembled an attempt to modernize (or sanitize?) a film that would have been made by Robert Downey Sr. in his heyday, and making it relevant to Gen Z but with nothing profound to say about race, class, or revolution. And the screenplay definitely needed another pass, which makes me question if the movie was fast-tracked into production.

Leo’s performance as Pat/Bob seemed to consist of seeing how hard he could crash out during key dramatic moments. Pat/Bob’s daughter Willa was poorly developed (was she meant to be a cypher for the audience?), and I didn’t learn a thing about her despite her rescue being the whole point of the story. In fact, here’s a game that I would offer to people who disagree with me on that point: tell me one memorable thing about Willa or her personality (and no, martial arts doesn’t count because it’s not a character trait).

As much as I enjoyed the performances of Benicio Del Toro and Sean Penn, the ultimate tragedy is seeing PTA’s least memorable film become his biggest hit, effectively proving that he had to dilute his brand to survive in today’s film ecosystem.

In an effort to please everyone, you end up selling yourself short.

Go watch “Bulworth” instead. Or better yet, read Assata Shakur’s autobiography.

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What did you think about the film? Share in the comments.

For another great piece by Substack creator on this film, read:

Black Girl Watching

One Fetish After Another: PTA Exploits Black Women and Averts Revolution

*Spoilers for the plot of One Battle After Another…

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7 months ago · 2957 likes · 11 comments · Brooke Obie

If you like my substack and want to find some offline reading, check out “Words For My Comrades, A Political History of Tupac Shakur” by Dean Van Nguyen. This book has got me in a choke hold, I can’t get enough of it!

Some people call me a dreamer, and even more call me delusional. These comments used to make me uncomfortable. I would try to bend my beliefs to fit into a framework that others could understand, but no matter how hard I tried, the real me would eventually begin to come out. It’s a lesson I have learned with painful regularity: no matter where you go, there you will be. And if who you are is inevitable, the best you can do is learn to love and accept that person. I have spent much of my 30s learning this “real me.” In that journey, I have been given the greatest gift a person can ask for: forgiveness and understanding.

I think many of us go through life feeling a deep desire to be loved unconditionally and understood. That desire can sometimes be the vehicle that drives us towards the person we will become, and if that is true, society must provide the fuel. So what happens when society tells you your vision of yourself is wrong? What do you do when society throws obstacles in your path that not only short-circuit your development, they take pieces of you? Society is beautiful; we need the community of people and shared agreements to survive in the long term, but as helpful and empowering as this can be, society can also be the poison pill that sends us down a spiral.

I have been thinking a lot about this recently, for two reasons. First, as I continue to do the work to heal my heart and love myself, I have discovered a newfound belief in a radical idea. That idea is that all boys begin with pure hearts. All little boys desire love and acceptance; all boys want to be held, feel, grow, and be surrounded by those who are important to them. If that is true, something must have happened between the day they were born into this world and transitioned into men. Whatever that “thing” was, it shifted their trajectory. I guess that’s why people think I’m delusional, I believe in the humanity of men. The second reason I have been thinking about this a lot more is because of a book I just completed.

“Words For My Comrades: A Political History of Tupac Shakur” is a newly released book by Dean Van Nguyen. The book expertly tells the political story of Tupac’s life and how the radicalization he grew up in impacted his music and, by extension, the world. But more than that, it walks you through two generations of justice, hurt, love, pain, and trauma, by not only telling his story, but the story of his mother. We get to see a clearer picture of who the man was. This makes perfect sense because you can’t truly understand Tupac if you don’t understand Afeni.

Before this book, I didn’t know nearly enough about her. Today, most people remember Afeni as Tupac’s mother, and while that is something to be proud of, her life and impact on this world go so much further than that. As a member of the Black Panther Party, a political prisoner, and one of the Panther 21. A group of Black Panthers who were arrested and accused of trying to bomb several locations in New York City. Afeni represented herself in a sham of a trial organized by the federal government. She did all of this while sitting in jail, fighting with guards to make sure she received the nutrients necessary to nurse her pregnant body.

Before PAC took a single breath in this world, he was in a cage built by oppressors, and the fight was always in his blood. And once he was born, the struggle didn’t change. During his first days in this world, she worried about his safety and didn’t initially list his name on the certificate. According to “Words from my Comrade’s,” she first listed his name as Lesane Parish Crooks for fear that the government would target him.

While Pac was described as a kind child, “full of joy,” the realities of life would soon begin to color his experiences. After years of working as an organizer/activist, Afeni suffered from the trauma of her experiences and fell into addiction while raising her son and his sister. Growing up, he would always try to keep a positive spin on his life, but the chaos and inconsistency he dealt with were challenging in more ways than one. There were times when he and his sister went without food, when his mother, because of her addiction, had strange and potentially dangerous people in the home, desperate to take care of his family, he faced a level of exposure to the underbelly of life that should never have happened. Without a consistent father figure in his life, Pac was forced to learn and “become a man” all at once. This, along with constant harassment from the police and inconsistent housing, led him and his family to move from New York to Baltimore and then, finally, to California.

We love Pac because of his beautiful poetry and sharp political analysis, but those skills were developed as he navigated the world as a Black boy; it’s not an experience for the weak. What we ended up with was a young man with endless potential and a bottomless pit of hurt and pain.

Despite the shadows that hung over him, PAC was a shining light that was tragically shot down before he saw his full potential. It is the story of every boy in the world. Like him, they are born with unlimited possibilities, wanting to be loved, full of joy, and trying to figure out their place in the world. But then life arrives with all of its challenges, and people chip away at the light. Sometimes purposefully and with malicious intent, but most of the time through sheer ignorance.

I have written a lot about how society has let men/boys down, and I don’t mean to be a broken record, but it has to be said. We are setting our boys up to be prisoners in their minds until society sentences them to death. That prison is the Man box, a metaphysical structure created by unhealthy ideas of what men should be. This box makes a parameter for what is “Masculine” and what is weak, and then eeks out punishment to those who do not stay in that box. The executioners of that punishment are the people in their lives. Their friends, family, neighbors, supporters, and sometimes rivals. But more often than not, it comes from the people we love. If we want to break this prison for others, we must first break it ourselves. So here is the truth for you all to know.

Boys and Men, just like Girls and women, deserve to be hugged, and told they are important, they deserve to be able to cry, they deserve to feel, and they should be allowed to be unsure. Society tells us that men who desire these things, who show vulnerability, who signal they are gentle, are not worth existing, so we learn to turn those parts of ourselves off. No one likes what this turns us into, but for some reason, the most celebrated version of masculinity is the manifestation of the monsters we become from this outside pressure. PAC was n artist, he wanted to write poetry and talk about love, but his surroundings forced him to harden up quickly, trust sparingly, and turn to vices to cope. With Pac, we got someone who loved artistry and people, but would sometimes give in to his worst vices, lashing out at others and resorting to violence to feel powerful.

But under that act, there was a lot of pain that couldn’t be processed. After entering the rap game, being known for his high-top fade, trauma from a violent encounter with the police led him to develop alopecia and start losing his hair. His iconic baddie was discovered through the pain he couldn’t communicate. He said as much as he could in his music, but even that had limits, so we only saw pieces of a man who was slowly spiraling, if only we had more empathy for him and others.

The man box tells us that men should be physically dominating, “lead at all costs,” be aggressive, sex crazed, physically indestructible, and only focused on making money. It tells us that if you cannot produce, you are worth nothing; it tells us that we do not have feelings, that to acknowledge anything besides anger is a weakness. The Man box does not make space for artistry, it does not accept or encourage insecurity, and it attacks vulnerability, but if we want our little boys to grow up into men we can be proud of, we must make space for all of this. But it doesn’t end there, if the Man box is the prison, Capitalism is the Warden.

Under the system of capitalism, everyone is told that the pursuit of financial gain at all costs is the ultimate goal, and under this, we have little space for compassion, community, or kindness. In a capitalistic system, you are only as good as your ability to hold resources or horde them, so every relationship is condensed to transactional ones. To make things worse, if you are unable to make the kind of money to excel in this system, you have no value. So what happens to a boy who sees no financial opportunity? In many cases, he becomes someone who doesn’t value himself or values the pursuit of currency over everything else. And if there is no self-love as a grounding, how can they possibly care about anything else?

Under capitalism, the United States Government has leaned further and further towards the interests of the ultra-wealthy, and because of that, we have seen a critical spike in suffering across the board. With that suffering comes a devolving of society, and a resentment that spurs hate. That hate was enough to elect a white supremacist into office, and his hate, one that stems from a childhood full of more pain than we could ever know, is driving us to a place this country may never recover from. But like PAC, and like me, and like so many others, this hateful man known as our “President’ started off as a little boy, and life happened to him in ways that made him who he is today.

PAC is gone, Trump has chosen his path, and millions of little boys are trying to figure things out. The world won’t change overnight, but we get to start the process today. Choose kindness, hug your sons, hold space for dreams, and work towards being a little different than you were the day before. It won’t change everything, but it could give hope to one lost little boy, which will be enough.

Congrats, you made it to the end. What did you think? Share your thoughts in the comments!

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On my 21st birthday, I sat in a dark dorm at SUNY Old Westbury. Just outside, the walls trembled with anticipation from my fellow suitemates. It was a Thursday night, and everyone was either headed to a party or actively partying in the hallways. Soon enough, I too would be a part of this cacophony of youthful exuberance and alcohol. But before any of that took place, I wanted a moment to revel in what I had accomplished. Because, friend, Black Boys of a certain age must all answer a question that only we know of; but somehow, anyone can answer. I contested with that as I sipped from my personal bottle of henny, this was my moment to toast an audacious survival.

Here’s the thing, for much of my youth, I was acutely aware of the silent question that would eventually need to be answered. That question was, could I make it to my 21st birthday, or would I be dead, erased from reality, blown away by senseless gun violence? And if for some reason I did survive to see that age, could I do it without ever stepping foot in a jail or prison? For a time, neither one of these things felt impossible, in fact, death or incarceration felt inevitable, whether I accepted this fate or not. As a result, I at times felt like I was being pulled towards a conclusion littered with bullets or that found me inside of a cage.

This was a soft pressure I felt pounding at the center of my chest everyday, it was a destiny that I didn’t want but probably deserved. Was this all I was worth? It seemed like it. Sadly, for far too many people around me, it was in fact inevitable, two of my childhood friends were murdered in cold blood. One of them was killed after spending years in and out of jails and prisons, he had a young son, and his entire life ahead of him. If God exists and she chooses who lives and dies by the quality of the person, I am confused as to why she chose to take Eric and Jah’meer, while I’m still here. I do not wish to be dead, but I knew them both, they were the best this world had to offer, they had so much potential, yet they couldn’t escape a destiny that I suddenly was prepared to defeat.

I think about them a lot, because there is no practical reason that their fate was not also mine. Before I hit my -teen years, I knew what it felt like to stare down the barrel of a gun, I also knew what it felt like to force someone else to do the same. I knew what hatred was, I felt it at times for my parents who would vacillate between abuse, and indifference, or the officers who were assigned to protect my community, but spent their time terrorizing people to add color to their days.

Before I was old enough to get a part-time job, I knew what it felt like to have an anger burning so deeply in my belly that it threatened to engulf everything and everyone around me. That flame made me feel like a man, it was my protective shell, it made me a ticking time-bomb. Despite having all of the intangibles for a brief but glorious conclusion, I made it to 21, and I celebrated that day by myself with a bottle of white Hennessey. I was in college, on the verge of graduating, no children in sight, no reason to fear for my life, and no prospects for prison. I had made it. But had I? The survivors guilt would randomly hit me, my chest would constrict, and my breathe would deepen, what gave me the right to live when so many others didn’t? I struggled with that feeling for much of my adult life.

And then I turned 40, and the boy who struggled with these feelings, while relishing every time he cheated destiny is a man reflecting on everything he has been. 40 feels strange, it feels like a normal next step in aging, and a milestone all at once. I don’t know that I was ever supposed to reach this point, but I am here, there is no destiny that I have to run away from, what’s left is an open path with unlimited possibilities. So much of my younger days was dictated by a desire to break cycles, cheat death, and contradict expectations, those pressures don’t seem to exist anymore, and suddenly my life feels like its just beginning, and shifting into a new phase all at once. I get to choose my path, and I’m only restricted by how much I’m willing to hold myself back. I can’t wait to let loose!

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My very first hero was my dad; I think he still is. His story is like many immigrants', yet distinct. After hurricane George, with only a few dollars left in his pockets and not many career prospects in Dominica, my father dropped everything (and everyone) to travel to the United States of America for a new life.

There are not many instances in my lifetime that I can say he has hesitated out of fear. If he wanted something, he went after it, no matter the costs. More often than not, what he wanted was the affection of a beautiful woman, and once he came to the states, there was an endless supply to romance. Did I mention that my father is a womanizer?

Maybe I should be kinder, it’s not that simple. If I could describe his vice with more empathy, I would say that he is a hopeless romantic, with a boundless capacity for love. A love that has always focused on the opposite sex, and as much as one woman might capture his heart, it was only a matter of time before he was descending into an affair with a new lover. My father would tell you that he was “Too Nice,” that he struggled to say “good bye.” So the last flame would not be doused, she would instead believe that she was my fathers one and only, and await his return with open arms.

To his credit, he would come back, but usually with the scent of another woman on his collar, and sweet lies falling from between his lips. The end was usually not far after this. When I was young, I didn’t quite understand what my he was up to, and why there seemed to be a revolving door of romantic partners. What I did know was that I wanted to be just like him. And to the younger version of myself, my father could do no wrong. Unfortunately, like many of these women, I too would find my love and admiration for him repaid with empty promises, and disappointment.

I spent countless days hoping that he would choose me, and as much as my father loves me, he couldn’t help but be who he was. This pain caused a natural shift. After spending my younger year trying to be just like him, the second half of my life has been dominated by a desperate sprint to escape his shadow. I don’t know when, or how, but at some point I made the decision to do everything possible not to replicate the places in his life I believed there to be failure. There was only one problem with this plan. What I soon learned was that the harder I ran away from him, the closer I got to his legacy. And before I knew it, we were standing face to face, I had failed in my efforts to leave it behind me. With nowhere else to go, the only thing left to do was accept the truth.

I’m not sure when or if this moment ever happened for my father, but at some point in my life I was told I was not enough. And after it was told to me, it was exhibited enough times that it went from being background noise to gospel. And from hostile gospel I learned to accept a lie as truth. That acceptance created a vast emptiness inside of me. I didn’t know at first, but I felt it, the feeling of being a burden, of fearing that those around you would toss you aside, knowing that the world would not skip a beat without you walking the earth.

I think my father struggles with this as well, and I believe he’s spent 80 years on this earth trying to fill that void with an endless stream of women. He charmed them, loved them, fucked them, made promises he couldn’t keep and then broke them. But who could blame him? This was all he ever knew. I think in those small moments, he meant everything he said to every woman, and each and everyone was special in his eyes, but what he was looking for, he could never find in the softness of their kisses, or the heat they built under the sheets. So, instead of breaking the cycle, he continued the chase, hoping to find himself in the process.

Intellectually, I understand that no amount of romantic partners can ever make me feel like a man, my vice of choice is love, but through admiration. I accumulated love and support by making my self small and large at the same time, it’s my super power.

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I make people laugh, I become the problem solver, the smartest person in the room, the leader, the fixer. I make people feel comfortable, I help them feel seen, and let them know they are cared for. I do all of this for the sake of affection, and as the love would grow, I would shrink myself. Put my needs to the side, become even more agreeable, ignore my boundaries, and make excuses, all for the hope of never losing the love I had so expertly accumulated. But here’s the thing about those measures I took, they didn’t work. I still lost love, I failed, I couldn’t be all of the things and erase myself at the same time, and when I fell short of the paper castles I had built, I would feel like nothing.

It was in those moments of solitude that my fathers legacy would catch me, and I would once again be forced to see how much of him still existed within me. If I wanted things to be different, I had to break the cycle. So I did.

Breaking the cycle wasn’t easy, it takes committing to doing something different, and then showing up everyday to make sure that commitment sticks. I started therapy, I purposely slowed down, I forced myself to get used to discomfort, because what felt good hadn’t served me. I committed to being a work in progress, I still am. But what all of this effort rewarded me with was the clarity that I am in fact enough, I need no special talent, relationship, or accomplishment to matter, I just do. The work is never done though, so I constantly have to remind myself of this, and there are moments where I fall into bad habits, but I’m much quicker to catch myself, and I’m better off for it.

There are times when I am reminded of who I used to be, and what I still struggle with everyday. What may surprise you is that those gentle reminders usually happen when I’m interacting with other men. I see it in their smiles, in their anger at society, in their loud determination to not look “weak.” So many boys and men are hurting, even more are crying out for help, but they’re doing it in a language that most of society does not speak. I have felt their pain, and speak their language, so I can see it, but my eyes alone are not enough.

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With the help of people in my life, I was able to pinpoint the moment I started to believe the lie that I wasn’t enough. I am doing the work to never go back to that version of myself, countless of other men are also doing that work as well. But we need your help. There is another set of men and boys who are fighting in the wild on their own, we can’t expect things to be different if we don’t find ways to reach them. Because for every man that figures it out, and finds another path, there are ten who are like my father, solidified in their hurt, and sharing that pain out freely.

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What Bad Bunny did during the Halftime show, will go down as a testament to love, resilience, poetry, music, and movement. It also was just a mf party that would move you regardless if you moved toward it.

It’s hard to be angry at a song you know is catchy, to not move to a joyous melody, to actively dislike something that tastes delicious, to refuse a romantic gesture from someone you’re attracted to, to actively hate someone who invites you to join in love.

One of these things has got to give. When actually faced with these alternatives, many people’s visceral anger and hate, especially millennials and younger, doesn’t have a strong enough foundation against the immediate and lifelong benefits of love and joy. They give way to fun. Hate…just gets old. It atrophies. Love is, and has always been, a more active muscle.

This is why so many (old) people want to keep education and exposure far from reach for future generations. To keep traditions of ignorance and closemindedness alive. As they have for seasonless generation upon generation. But it’s too late. The metropolises and the internet have spoken. Fun wins out…if it’s up to the youth.

Now, our systems are not up to the youth—but the old guard is going to expire, and that’s why they’re flailing and grasping at straws.

Telling any young person to avoid the objectively cooler party had a great success rate since never. Elvis, Sinatra, the Beatles, Nirvana, all of Hip-Hop, which is now also a Billion dollar industry. L after L after L after L.

But still they try.

‘Pariguayo’ is a slang term in Spanish that originates from the US occupation of the Dominican Republic during the 1960s. It can mean an inept person, but its original purpose essentially meant ‘party-watcher.’ During the occupation, many American soldiers would go to local parties and just stand there while the people of the Dominican Republic danced meregue, batchata, salsa, etc, and enjoyed mf life. As is the history of so much of Latina America, the Carribean, and Africa — to dance and sing regardless of the injustice in the outside world.

Eventually, this dynamic, as it always does, will exist here, too.

Eventually, as time goes on it’s no longer The Republicans v. The Democrats

The Left v. Right.

Zionists v. Anti-Zionists.

No. It’s the right side of history v. the wrong side.

The side that didn’t want Sammy playing with Frank, and the Rat Pack became world renown. That thought Cuban Desi Arnaz playing and dancing on TV with a white woman was too ‘racy’ decades before Modern Family would become a household favorite. Who didn’t want Aaron to break Ruth’s record, nor Jackie to even step on the field—and now Shohei Ohtani shares the face of baseball with Aaron Judge.

The people were against Loving and for Virginia, and now have accepted the umpteenth conservative ‘hero’ in an interracial marriage. The current grandparents who threw rocks at Ruby Bridges on her way to school and clutch pearls at trans and immigrant ‘threats’ to child safety now. Who didn’t want a Jew in Levittown, Black people in Rosedale, a Palestinian at the DNC, or a Muslim for Mayor of New York City.

Some will always remain. Hating from afar. Looking on from their own talcolm-powder dry, swag deficient side of town.

But they dwindle in number. A wack party is a wack party. People leave. A good time just looks too appealing. And good-time seekers acquiesce to the fact that it comes with different complexions. And, for many, though not all, through exposure, that acquiescence turns ignorance to tolerance—and tolerance to empathy.

The rest just remain to watch and grow old in their crusty, stale animus.

La Gozadera against the Geriatric.

The Party v. The Pariguayos.

And the party undefeated.

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There are few things more American than the desire to be first, to stand above all others and receive all that comes with being the original, the victor, the main attraction. This idea, whether we realize it or not, is one of the driving forces of American Identity. Because as Americans, nothing, and no one can matter more than we do. And even when something, or someone does become relevant, it is only because we have chosen to acknowledge it through our very American lens.

The stories we tell about our history, about each other, and about the world are painted through this perspective, and we have done it for so long that when someone pushes back against this reality, we can become defiant, sometimes even hostile. Because how on God’s green earth could anything ever exist, or any story be told without it centering us? And if such stories are told, why should they matter?

The ways in which we view ourselves and the world are so strong that many of us fail to realize just how skewed our perception of reality is, that what we think is the truth might be a variation of it, but not quite what is actually happening on the ground. That the story does not always have to center our identity. To not be mentioned does not always mean to be erased, it could just be someone else’s turn to play the main character. But America has always viewed itself as greater than everything and everyone else, so what happens when that supremacy begins to face real challenges? I have been thinking about this very American self centeredness a lot recently, especially after the Grammy Awards this past weekend.

The spectacle it presents yearly is also intimately American. Where else could you find a celebration of wealth, aesthetics, and artistry, during a time when so many have so little, and our president is spending his days sharting during press conferences, and erasing Black history? But who cares? The Grammys are on, and Kendrick Lamar just won his 25th award, the most of any rapper. I watched his victory speech on twitter while trying to ignore the reports of Ice targeting Haitians in Ohio. Thankfully, Kendrick’s victory wasn’t the only one that caught my attention.

Earlier that evening, country singer, Shaboozey took home a Grammy for best country duo/group performance. While accepting this award, the first generation American thanked his immigrant mother for all she had done to raise him, and dedicated the award to “all children of immigrants” saying that “Immigrants built this country. Literally.” Shaboozey’s remarks were met with a warm response at the event, but on social media, things weren’t as warm. On Threads and Twitter, some Black users, and many many chat bots created for the sole purpose of stirring up online outrage responded to his statement by saying that “Black Americans” built America.

Those corrections led to a days long debate on social media that devolved from debating the merits of Shaboozey’s comments, to some users opining about whether Black people from other parts of the world, could truly call themselves Black. The evolution of this discussion speaks to the ridiculousness of the discussion to begin with. Shaboozey’s comments were meant to show solidarity with undocumented people, not minimize the contributions of Black Americans.

That debate was led by a small coalition of Black Americans and bots who identify as American Descendants of Slaves (ADOS) or “Foundational Black Americans (FBA).” These groups concentrate solely on the interests of Black Americans. Their advocacy has been vital to further mainstreaming the issue of Reparations for descendants of enslaved people. But they do so while arguing that only Black Americans should receive them. While I don’t agree with this thesis, there is an argument to be made for assuring that American Descendants of Slaves are prioritized if the reparations battle in the United States is ever won. This can happen without disparaging Black Immigrants, or first generation Black Americans. Unfortunately, from the outside looking in, it seems that the FBA and ADOS movements are comfortable being openly hostile to non American Black people, and have even gone as far as advocating for policies that would harm those communities.

Does that mean that anyone who identifies as ADOS, or a Foundational Black American is a conservative carrying the water for the Trump administration? No. There are real people upset with the current state of the world in these groups. They are responding with the broken tools this society has given them. We may not agree with everything they have to say, but our liberation is tied together, even if everyone involved can’t see this clearly. Can Black Americans have an experience in the United States that might be different from Black and brown people born in other countries?

Does that matter to those in Power? Absolutely not. The Trump administration, and all other agents of white supremacy have no care or interest in the many shades of Black that exist in the world, they do not waste time questioning the racial identity of someone from Mexico, Trinidad, Uganda, or North Carolina. Their stated mission is to put a stop to a world that has changed so much, they feel as if they are no longer at the center of it.

They are achieving this mission by going after undocumented people, erasing Black history, demonizing people in the LGBTQ community, and destroying every single lever of Democracy possible. Do we have time for silly quarrels when democracy is collapsing? No. So here’s the truth: immigrants did build this country, so did enslaved Black people. Two truths can exist at once, and here’s another one, there is no main character for America, at least not for the version that lives up to its ideals. And if we want to see that version, we must be willing to break free from the shackles of selfishness, and realize that we are all in this together.

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There is irony and contradiction all around us. The chaos of our daily lives makes it hard to bear witness, but believe it or not, there are all sorts of interesting ways these moments show up. For example, I believe that Drake is a shallow man-child who peaked ten years ago and has an unhealthy anger towards women. But when “Nokia” comes on, I proudly hit my two-step and throw my ass in an enthusiastic circle. Sure, Drizzy is a little problematic, but the man makes slaps.

I have decided to ignore my hypocrisy because, honestly, who cares about my musical interests and the ways in which I undermine my own stated values? In the larger scheme of things, my preferences and contradictions are not compelling enough for mass appeal; as a result, we can leave it to my friends and family to unpack my shortcomings. At least they have an incentive to do so.

But have no fear, this essay isn’t about me; we have much more interesting characters we can focus our attention on. Take, for example, the leaders of this country. Donald Trump and his cabal of advisors swear to all the gods that may exist that they are Christians. Despite suspicions from a growing number of people, they insist, with Adderall powder on their noses and Coca-Cola steam oozing from their pores, that they believe with all their heart in the teachings of Jesus Christ.

It is this belief that drives their governing approach. One that has deprioritized human safety when making decisions at the Environmental Protection Agency, attacked Somalians and described them as “Filthy” and “disgusting,” all while launching a campaign to deport as many of them as possible. This same “Christ-like” approach has led to the Trump administration demonizing people murdered by ICE, calling Renee Good and Alex Pretti terrorists, literally moments after their deaths. I wonder what parts of the bible they’re getting this gospel from?

The Jesus that I am familiar with was born a refugee. His family had no documentation to prove they belonged in Bethlehem, his father didn’t have a job, and they were not considered a “well-respected family.” These circumstances are why, at his birth, he had another title besides the “Son of God”; he was also homeless.

The manager where Mary gave birth to Jesus did not belong to her or her husband; it was the only shelter they could go to, and they would eventually have to leave. And while as a child Jesus had a home, he spent much of his adult years without traditional or stable housing. Despite these circumstances, this houseless refugee, born to a poor family and who lived with no wealth to call his own, built a gospel that would far outlive him. That gospel was deeply suspicious of the rich. This suspicion sometimes led to unforgettable crash-outs, like the time he used a chord to drive merchants and salesmen out of a temple during passover, saying, “Take these things hence; make not my Father’s house a house of merchandise.”

It was these actions, and others, that led to his eventual crucifixion. We glamorize the story of Christ dying on the cross for our sins and rising from the dead. If this story were told for modern times, there might not be a body left because he could have died from an American-funded bomb dropped on him in Gaza. Or maybe he would freeze to death in the streets of New York, because despite the city’s incredible wealth, we have yet to solve our ever-growing issue of homelessness. Maybe we would lose track of his body after he was kidnapped by Ice for not having papers, and then announced dead from “mysterious causes?”

In every one of these scenarios in which Jesus would be killed, the leaders of this country, and those who support their vision, would find no fault in the cruelty of his death. Maybe Jesus would be called a “terrorist” the way so many have accused Renee Good, Alex Pretti, and Keith Porter of being. Maybe they would cheer him passing the way some did after Jordan Neely was choked to death on the subway? Maybe he would be another nameless body found in a landfill, cremated or buried with no fanfare. No matter how his crucifixion took place, I am confident that when it was all said and done, our leaders and their supporters would clutch their Bibles, sing a hymn, and tell the rest of us that “Jesus is the way.” Isn’t life interesting?

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1. Do you see the irony in our leadership?

2. Do you think I have the wrong idea of Jesus?

3. Is there anything I missed, or something you would have added?

4. Do you think my writing is trash, and you think I’m a godless communist? If so, click here.

In this country, our heroes are so pure it’s almost vulgar. Their stories drip of honor, their purpose is always clear, and their actions, no matter what they are, can be justified as something that had to be done for the greater good. Everyone celebrates when the Avengers defeat a villain, never mind that they had to level an entire city to do it. And as they move on to their next crusade, the people most affected by that destruction are never acknowledged; it’s as if they don’t exist. But this is the unsexy part of heroism; we don’t talk about it because it’s not relevant, and those obsessed with hero culture have likely never considered it. I know I didn’t.

When I was much younger, I dreamed of one day becoming a hero like the ones I always read about. I thirsted for the opportunity to make a difference. To face up against an unstoppable force of evil, and through my own power shut it down. I wanted to do this in a way that the entire world could see it, so that all eyes could solely be on me. During this period, I didn’t have many thoughts about villains, at least not the ones you would imagine. I saw them as nothing but foils placed in my path to flesh out my story. Any other opinions I had of them were shaped by my father and what I heard from others. What I took from both venues was that villains were at the root of everything wrong with humanity.

They were a cocktail of hatred, greed, envy, lust, and violence manifested into a single being. They hated this world, and they hate our way of life; it is that hatred that drives them to do unspeakable things. Through this painting of villainy, there was no reason to ever learn more about them. They deserved no understanding or empathy because they were not human, and even if every villain I had ever seen in real life was an actual human being, I was told in more ways than one that they had no humanity. That lack of humanity gave permission to do whatever it might take to defeat them, it also created permission for some to take pre-emptive measures aimed at “Stopping" villainry” before it even happened.

For a long time, this was fine. I lived happily within the comforts of this idea, and I celebrated as those in power set forth to destroy every villain possible with ruthless precision. But as I grew older, small cracks began to show up all over this unbreakable idea that once grounded me. And then one day, while sitting on the stoop of my building, I started asking a brand-new set of questions. For example, why were some parts of my city pristine and beautiful, while the area where I lived was not? Our roads were bumpy and full of potholes, we had uneven sidewalks that always seemed to be peppered with hundreds of empty crack vials, the home that I lived in was squeezed in between two abandoned buildings, one of those buildings had been partially burned down; and the police ostensibly there to protect us, treated everyone like wild animals that needed to be tamed.

I had done nothing wrong, nor had the people who lived in the community, but everything in our environment seemed to tell a different story about who we were and what we deserved. Before I knew it, I started asking more questions and began investigating my surroundings and the people in control of them. Television was the venue that spelled it out for me. One day, while watching the news with my father, I heard First Lady Hilary Clinton speak about the current state of crime in the U.S. In this discussion, I heard her use the term “Superpredator.” She used it to describe people from communities like mine, stating that we posed a threat to society.

I remember staring at the screen thinking angrily, “What did we do to you?” But her words were illuminating. And it wasn’t just Ms Clinton who viewed us this way; most of the country did as well, even some of our neighbors. Thankfully, for as much as I loved heroes and trusted the words of those in power, I knew in my heart that they were wrong about us. And since then, I have been suspicious, and sometimes outright hostile to the idea of heroes and villains. How could I not be? I have experienced firsthand how this narrative can be weaponized against others, how anyone can be labeled a threat at any time.

Unless you have spent some time in a group this country does not care for, it can be hard to understand what I am saying. But anyone can be made into a monster; you don’t even have to try that hard to find an example. Just look at what’s happening in Minnesota. Two weeks ago, Renee Good was shot and killed by an ICE agent in her own neighborhood. Her crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Since her death, the Trump administration has accused her of being a “Domestic Terrorist,” then claimed that she tried to run over the ICE agent, despite there being video showing this did not happen. Since all of that failed, they are now investigating Renee Good’s partner.

Renee did not deserve to die, and the actions being taken by this country’s “leadership” aren’t just cruel and disgusting; it is also the way in which modern villains are made. It is the crafting of a one-sided narrative reinforced by those in power or by those too cowardly to push back against propaganda. They create false realities and then feed them to society as slop. They need us to believe these stories, to see the same villains they do, because the moment we break free of their hold, we might begin to see what is truly happening. I sometimes wonder what the younger version of myself would think about these current events. Would I smartly be able to see the lies coming from this administration, or would I, like millions of others, be celebrating the “valiant” efforts of ICE while justifying cold-blooded murder?

The biggest trick we have all fallen for is the idea of heroes and villains, and that these monsters in power are somehow our saviors. That the death, destruction, and hatred they aim to sow every day are necessary and just. And the unvarnished love of greed and bigotry fit perfectly into what it means to be a hero. I’m here to tell you it does not, and if, for some reason, I’m wrong, I would much rather be a villain anyway.

2025 Has been a fantastic year for writing, learning and growing. It has also been an eventful year of books that captured my attention, made me think, and give me opportunities to escape from the stream of A.I. slop and rage-baiting that has become much of social media. When the year began, I promised myself I would take some steps away from the digital world, and find more of my mental freedom in books, and in 2025, I think I did a really good job at that.

But what’s the point of reading something amazing if you’re not sharing it with others. There’s so much fun that can be had when we share our reading list. We get the opportunity to exchange notes and personal critiques. We can have passionate debates about protagonist that we hated (I’m looking at you TAU!) we can put people on to worlds, or idea’s they hadn’t even considered. Sure, there’s book tok, but the best book reccomendations come from writers. So this writer, after being inspired by my friend from has decided to share my 2025 version of Wrapped for my books read. A couple of things to note before we begin. First, I break my list up between books read on Kindle (usually some series I was reading to escape reality) and Physical books, which were generally political in nature. In total, I read 30 books this year, I hope to boost that number significantly next year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this list, and I really hope this will inspire you to share your list as well.

Series/Kindle Books

1. Dungeon Crawler Carl Books 1-7.- Matt Dinniman

Dungeon Crawler Carl was my favorite book of all of 2025, this series is combines video game structures, world building, comedy, shitty top 40 music that I absolutely love with a class analysis, and deep introspection. I started this book to avoid all of the sad news in the world, and this one more than any other probably helps me face what we’re dealing with, because so much of it, in it’s own chaotic way, is talking about the same things. But through Aliens.

2. The beginning After the end Books 1-6-Turtle Me

I started watching this book because the first five minutes of the Anime was so interesting I decided the book would be better, because it always is. So far, so good.

3. The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic Books 1-4- Kurokata Kurokata

This is more Lite Novel slop, the girlies have their romance novels, and I have my Isekis

4. Moonlight Fantasy Book 1.- Kei Azumi

The book is better than the anime, but I had better books to read so I haven’t moved on to Book 2 as of yet.

5. My Status as an Assassin Obviously Exceeds the Hero. - Matsuri Akai

The writing isn’t that great, but it’s an easy read.

6. Clout Trails: In Clout We Trust- Naviseh Phelmenas

Physical Single Books.

1. Machiavelli The Prince

There’s a lot to learn from older scholars.

2. People Power Change- Marshall Ganz

Every Organizer should read this book.

3. We are Not Numbers: The Voices of Gaza’s Youth.

If you read nothing else from my list, you should absolutely read this book!

4. Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl.

I picked this book up at the beginning of the year, Its amazing how much her words still stick with me, and how much the ending hurt, even though I already knew what was going to happen. Everyone should read this book, and if you’re in New York, go check out the Anne Frank Exhibit.

5. Jesus and the Disinherited- Howard Thurman

I’m working on an essay which will give you a better idea of what I took from this book. If you don’t want to wait that long, just know that this book is phenomenal, and really eye opening.

6. Why Does he Do that?: Inside the minds of angry and controlling men- Lundy Bancroft.

I wanted to better understand the mind of abusers, and the type of men who do the type of things everyone is always so shocked about, even though much of our society normalizes, and apologizes for their behavior. I ended up learning something about myself. Maybe I’ll write about it, maybe it will stay in my journal.

7. On our Best Behavior: The Seven Deadly Sins and Price Women Pay to be “Good”- Elise Loehnen

Elise Loehnen is such a fantastic writer, I picked up this book as a reference for a book idea that I want to eventually pitch. It was so damn good I had to pause my idea because there are levels to this, and she’s at the top!

8. The Prison Industry: How it works and who Profits- Bianca Tylek and Worth Rises.

For what it’s worth, Bianca Tylek is a personal friend, and I think Worth Rises is a fantastic organization that does very important work, so I have a very deep bias. Having said that, you will learn a lot from reading this book.

9. Why Christians Should be Leftists- Phil Christman

I’m also using this as reference for an essay I’m working on. It’s been a good read.

10. The Right to Sex- Amia Srinivasan

Amia is a brilliant writer and if you haven’t read this book you absolutely should. The way she breaks down sexual politics left me uncomfortable, frustrated, blown away and challenged. The Right to Sex is one of the best books I have read in the last five years. 5 stars.

11. Words for my Comrades: A Political History of Tupac Shakur- Dean Van Ngyuen

    This one was another heater! Words for my Comrades was so good, I ended up buying a book on the Irish Potato Famine (That’s on my 2026 read list) and wrote an essay that was inspired from the stories in the book. You can find it below.

Ok, there you have it, these are all of the books I read in 2025, have you read any of these? If so, what did you think. What books did you read in 2025? I would love to see your list. And finally, if you enjoyed my list, check out list here. She really went ham in 2025.

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The block was hot this week on these internet streets. I thought it already was, questioning the foundation of democracy as we descend into fascism; but fuck it, let’s question if men and women can even date each other.

So what’s the article causing the mf hullabaloo? Is Having A Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?

A title also from somebody Myspace blog in ‘06.

But to be fair, this piece is related to other greatest hits from major publications this year including: The Trouble With Wanting Men. Which considers heterofatalism—a term describing a feeling of significant pessimism in men ever becoming be a worthy, meaningful romantic partner to women.

There’s two important aspects to this article, and any for that matter, that suggest such a hyperbolic, divisive opinion. Optics v. Reality and Content.

Regarding optics: who is saying what—because we’ve really lost the handle on that one. Social media loves to create multitudes that do not exist. Just because an opinion reaches millions does NOT mean millions hold that opinion.

The author of this editorial—it literally says ‘opinion’ at the top of the page—suggested this. Not capital W, government name Women, not even Vogue as a publication through its editors. Most of her sources in this one were Friends and Influencers, et al.

There was also an opinion piece by the New York Times, this same week, titled: Did Women Ruin the Workplace, which was then switched to ‘Did Liberal Feminist Women (hey, maybe throw in a 4th Fox News term, NYT) Ruin the Workplace.’ Which was then switched to ‘Did the 19th Amendment Ruin the Workplace?’ (I’m joking, but this country is also a living Onion article). NYT actually forgot to change the URL, so its original title is clear as day (as of this writing). Which is hilarious to me being that mfs act like they know everything.

Yeah, let’s go back to our jobs with the half women workforce and see how that opinion tracks in your daily life—beyond something that, if you said it aloud, would get you an HR meeting AND the extra modules.

The problem really isn’t the opinion. People believe all kind of wild shit. Some people believe in mass election fraud. Some people believe in mass immigration crime cabals. Some people think drums are better than flats (see VSB cofounder Damon Young’s empirical research on this falsehood). The problem is the proliferation of the opinion disproportionate to those who hold it.

Back in the day, if someone thought having a partner was embarrassing—male, female, homicide detective—even if it made it to the New York Times, it would make it to page 17 in a lil’ text box; those who read the Times would chuckle IF they got to page 17, laugh it off with their companion, and then read Garfield. At most, the author would somehow get to argue this on Letterman right before he introduces Destiny’s Child.

But Vogue isn’t by subscription only in a glossy magazine anymore. Anything anyone writing for the publication creates can become a trending topic. The cycle is: posted online, reposted on social media through the publication and its millions of readers and followers, and since almost any algorithm will immediately add up: recognized publication + partisan title on relationships = viral, it’s a given it will end up on most feeds. Even those (not mine) whose feed/explore page is otherwise baseball, ass, food, and cats.

Regardless, whenever I read something, I ask myself: what were we supposed to do with this information? And I think a guide would have been helpful.

How To Not Be Embarrassing As A Boyfriend:

1. Know when to cut your head off (in a picture).

2. Know when to ghost yourself when you’re a breath away from cramping her style.

3. Know when to not distract her from all the shit she gotta do, but be interesting enough to distract her from all the shit she gotta do because…

4. Don’t be boring. All of Boredom is on you; you are the Boredom Prevention Dept.

5. Buy her followers if she loses influence as an influencer once you enter her life as a man of net-negative influence.

6. Embrace your title as an embarrassment. Be self-deprecating to reinforce her feelings and understand that confidence and charisma are really attractive.

7. If you’re unsure if you’ll embarrass her at some point in the future, it’s best to leave this seemingly reciprocal romantic connection & book it the other way.

On the content level, on a serious note, a few things to consider:

• It does not benefit men’s mental health to be categorically a joke.

• Anytime we say “men are___” imagine saying it to a 12 year-old-boy. It always gets to the children. At what age is should we tell that boy he may be an embarrassment, an unfortunate desire for girls?

• Normalizing absolutist, pessimistic ideologies, like heterofatalism, can lead to equalizing all male behavior. Doing so devalues discerning between what’s harmful from what’s unfulfilling from what’s loving—and everything in between.

Because let’s face it, like going right back to work with your BALLIN women colleagues after the NYT’s ridiculous headline on women in the labor force, people are still going to meet each other. Men and women will still be intrigued by one another, attracted to each other, spend lots of time together, have sex and intimacy, and even attempt build a future together. Abstinence just leads to uneducated sex. Raising girls in a household where all men are just naturally walking, uncontrollable libidos and premarital-sex is shameful only teaches teens how to lie better. And aggregating men irrespective of what makes us unique and the content of our character only sets the stage for the most manipulative, controlling, misogynistic of men to make shit worse.

All this messaging does is leave more men than yesterday feeling like, no matter what they do, they are embarrassing, a burden, unworthy of desire, etc., and need to be perfect to not be considered those things. For, the true fatalism is if we do not allow men the capacity to be phenomenal romantic partners for women.

And this philosophy leaves more women than yesterday in this dating pool malaise when considering with whom to share the most intimate parts of their life, irrespective of when the water is toxic.

Essentially, red, green, yellow—don’t matter. Within fatalism, all flags just become grey. And we all look a little embarrassing waving that one.

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Thanks for being a subscriber to Let’s Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (mostly Evan J. Mastronardi and I, Karina Maria) write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to discuss important issues in a digestible and relatable way because nobody wants to read a TED Talk.

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Last night, New York ended a political dynasty and put their trust in Zohran Mandami to be the Mayor of the greatest city in the world. As delicious as this outcome was, it left me with some thoughts to ponder. Specifically, it led me to wonder, when does one know when “enough is enough”? Is there a moment when, in the heat of battle, you take a step forward, and as sure as those steps have always been for as long as you have been doing it, you have a moment of hesitation? Do you witness being left behind? If so, how does it feel to be giving everything you have, or at least what you believe is worth sharing, and still find yourself sorely lacking? How do you contend with the fact that at one time you were considered untouchable, and you had the battle scars to prove it, yet despite all of that history, you are soundly defeated by someone you barely saw as an Equal?

Losing never feels good, but it is especially jarring when the last one to know that you have lost is you, and in this case, not only have you been defeated, but your ideas and lore have been ejected completely. The ramifications of such things have been on my mind as I watched Andrew Cuomo flail, fight, offend, attack, and gaslight his way through the general election. An old man, with a checkered and toxic history, so desperate to keep any semblance of political relevance that he inserted himself into a mayor’s race that didn’t need him, and campaigned for a position he didn’t want. But instead of stepping aside for new ideas, he chose division, hatred, and toxicity all the way to the end.

There was an opportunity for him to ride into the sunset, despite all he had done to others for the sake of power, and the damage he had caused, when Cuomo was soundly defeated in the Primary election this summer. He could have congratulated Zohran Mandami and ridden off into the sunset. In that version of events, the stories of Cuomo and his team bullying reporters, staffers, and other elected officials likely wouldn’t receive such attention. His 13 sexual harassment cases don’t stay in the news so long, his attempts to block a Black woman from becoming majority leader of the New York State senate aren’t brought up, and instead, his “friends,” admirers, and enemies could have told a kinder story to his final chapter.

But Cuomo has never been one to take a step back, and now, after a marathon election that should have ended in June. We awake, and the man who once dominated New York State politics has had his ass handed to him in two straight elections. Defeated by a 34-year-old Man with a funny name and politics grounded in ideas the establishment fears. I want so badly for Zohran Mandami’s vision of the world to represent the future of New York politics. And that Cuomo’s brand, like his career, will hopefully fade into oblivion, where it belongs, with respect to what he has accomplished as Governor and public servant. Much of Cuomo’s career has been focused on what would benefit him the most. His political ideology is centered on power and expediency; if something is to get done, he must see a clear benefit for himself in it.

This doesn’t make him an anomaly; in fact, it’s how a lot of politicians function. Sure, many run for office because they have a sincere desire to represent their communities and advocate for issues they care about. However, for far too long, those with the most power and ability to effect significant change have not led in that way. Their goal has been to hold power, to control the gears of our system, to be treated like royalty, and to be praised for their contributions. Even if what they have given has done more harm than good.

These types of politicians are easy to spot if you pay close enough attention. They strive for positions of power for the sake of having it, and more often than not, they don’t actually stand for anything. They excel at pointing out problems, but rarely offer solutions, and when they do, it’s only to make changes at the edges, leaving swaths of people struggling and disillusioned.

For example, look at outgoing Mayor Eric Adams. After running for Mayor while projecting himself as a champion of working-class people with a focus on making our city safer and more affordable, he spent much of his time in office fear-mongering and evading accountability for his own failures. He didn’t engage the city in a plan to address our core challenges; instead, he embarked on a public crusade, during which he claimed for months that crime was skyrocketing and blamed a law that was passed to prevent people from having to sit in jail because they couldn’t afford bail. When the press and the public latched onto his fear-mongering, he accused the media of “manufacturing a crisis.”

Cuomo, in his bid for Mayor, tried something similar to Adams. Spending weeks, if not months, campaigning on the idea that New York had become a “Lawless city” while seemingly ignoring the fact that he had closed several hospitals while governor. Many of those facilities provided beds and services to people struggling with their mental health. With no opportunity for housing and limited resources, they have ended up living on the streets. And the man who played a role in helping them get there tried to pitch himself as the solution to a problem he had helped to create.

When that didn’t work, he accused Zohran of being an anti-semite and tried to play off the rightful fears of our Jewish sisters and brothers to get them to vote against their own and the rest of the city’s interests. When that seemed to be a losing approach, he attempted to court the favor of a president who has made it his mission to attack our most vulnerable, while peppering Islamophobic attacks at a man he never bothered to understand. I would say that I’m disappointed in the way he behaved, but that would mean I expected better from him. I did not.

But this isn’t specifically a Cuomo issue; it is the way things have been done, and for a long time, Cuomo was just the best at it. And while he and others continued to win elections, they also gaslighted voters with empty platitudes while refusing to do the hard work that would bring about real change. As a result, people grew tired, and not only did they become exhausted, but many began to crumble under the current system. One that finds almost any opportunity to help those with the most, and creates multiple barriers of entry for those with little to nothing. The number of people feeling that pressure reached record levels last year, and that’s a big part of why many people voted for Trump. The Cuomo style of politics, one that gives crumbs to the poor and feasts to the rich, had worn them out.

But like Cuomo, Adams, and many other politicians, Trump is no leader; he is only interested in himself, and after running a campaign where he blamed our problems on Black people, women, trans people, and our undocumented sisters and brothers, he has governed with an agenda that focuses on holding his power, while stripping it from others.

And that’s why Zohran the candidate, and this victory is so important. Cuomo, Eric Adams, and much of the democratic establishment represent one side of a broken style of politics. What Zohran is offering isn’t a pipe dream; it’s a path to a different New York, and if we’re lucky, this is a path that others will soon choose. One where the people elected to office fight like hell for their constituents, where entire groups are not demonized for their religion, sexual preference, race, gender identity, or financial circumstances.

One where we stop lionizing the very wealthy while millions of people across the country struggle to make ends meet, while trying to avert our eyes from those who have already fallen through our broken political system. We have an opportunity to create a new world that can build a new reality designed to address the most pressing issues. There is a lot of work to be done, but last night’s result is a spark of hope that we sorely needed, and it could only happen if we were willing to let go of outdated ideas held up by relics of the past. Cuomo lost because he wasn’t only stuck in the past; it was the only reality he was willing to see. We are in new times, and in this era, there is hopefully no space for old men to prosper.

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Thanks for being a subscriber to Let’s Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (mostly me, Evan J. Mastronardi, and Karina Maria write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to discuss important issues in a digestible and relatable way because nobody wants to read a TED Talk.

If you’re new, please consider subscribing. If you’re already on the list and have a few coins, consider upgrading to a paid subscriber. If you have commitment issues but want to contribute, you can buy me a coffee.

If you like my Substack and want to discover other great writers, check out this directory from Marc Typo, The Cook-Out.

I don’t think anyone would disagree that America as we know it is in a state of crisis, political ideology aside; no one disagrees about the uptick in divisiveness, overall anger, and a consistently rising feeling of bad vibes. There are many reasons for this: rising economic inequality, white resentment, skyrocketing cases of people struggling with their mental health, A.I.’s troubling expansion, and, of course, the front row seat at a genocide that’s forced people to choose sides. Despite everything already mentioned, I think we can all agree that one of the biggest and most curious things we have witnessed over the last 20 years has been the Rise of Male Loneliness, but with that, Male loneliness, and a generational pushback against our once unanimously understood ideas about masculinity.

Masculinity is the “set of attributes, behaviors, and roles generally associated with men and boys.” For much of modern society, the attributes most aligned with masculinity have encouraged behavior that has caused harm to many people. The fact that we are now investigating what it means to be a man and what masculinity should look like isn’t a bad thing. However, as the contributors to this conversation increases, the answer to that question becomes less clear. And in this mass loss of understanding, we now have a front row seat to a new generation of men and boys trying to find their way through a field that even those of us who came before them struggle to understand. For those who identify as men or boys, it can feel like we must now suffer the consequences for everyone else having to live under conditions we didn’t create.

The men and boys of today did not create male privilege or skew the pay gap in their favor; we were not the founders of the “original” ideas of masculinity or gender roles, and while we have definitely benefited from Patriarchy and “popular masculinity” like you, we are also being crushed from underneath its boot. Yes, men have caused harm, yes, some of the issues we are facing are of our doing, but we are functioning under the only world and rules we have ever known. We are suffering too.

If we want something different from what has always been, it will take a new approach. One that can break through these antiquated gender roles and move everyone away from the current ideas around masculinity. To some, that may feel like attempting to replace “One bad Vice with another,” but I think that is a defeatist way to look at our current challenge. People need something else to work from. If we don’t give an alternative, we will continue to lose generations of boys and men. Right now, the “something else” is being dominated by “red-pill” dude bros who are facing the same challenges as these men, and believe that the cause of those problems is everyone else.

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Millions of boys and men are desperately searching for community, for counseling, for support, and while one side seems to be scoffing at the idea that men are lonely, or that men are in trouble, the Manosphere is building an empire by advocating for boys and men who feel lost, training them on how to take care of their health, workout, drink water, take advantage of the weak, and treat women like objects for sexual conquest and status. This advice, though rife with problematic language and hateful ideas about women, people of color, and those in the LGBTQIA community, at least offers lost men and boys something to grasp onto.

I don’t know that enough people have stopped for a second to think what it must feel like to be a boy/man in times like today. To be told that everything you have grown believing about your identity is wrong? That the people and things you looked up to are problematic, and although you were doing what you were taught and had seen from others, you are now at fault for a system you didn’t create. When we have public discourse about men, patriarchy, or masculinity, that may not be what we as a society are actively saying, but for many men, it is what we are hearing, and it hurts! It feels like we are being called failures, that we are not enough, it takes no consideration into how this system has hurt us as well. That this system, which has always told us we are defined by our values, is now being called incorrect. But if this is true, where does it leave us? Do we have no value as well? I don’t think so, and I don’t believe that most people feel this way about us either. But this is what many boys and men have felt like, but like I said before, we can change this; we can provide a different path.

So here is what needs to happen: if we want better men and a world where we can all be liberated from the boot of toxic masculinity and patriarchy, we need a counter to the Red-Pills idea of what a “good man” looks like. I would like to take it a step further, to be a “good man” is grounded in everyone’s broad ideas of what “Goodness” means. Elon Musk thinks that he’s good, and he threw up the “Heil Hitler” sign on Inauguration Day. The New York GOP thinks they’re full of “good” people, but look at what they have to say about Black, Brown, Gay, and Jewish people when they think no one is looking. The word “good” is far too subjective and leaves space for interpretation. We need a different measure, something that tells the truth about what it means to be your best self, and I think I can help.

Why me? Well, I am a straight cis male who, for the most part, is well adjusted. I have a good-paying job, a beautiful wife, and the respect of my peers. I am by no means rich, and I don’t think I have any power, but I do believe that I can model myself as what an alternative look at masculinity can look like, because more than anything, I represent much of what modern manhood looks like. I think there is a path that boys and men who are struggling to find themselves can take, and it’s the one I am currently on, so join me in my pursuit to become the Ultimate Man.

You’re probably wondering why I chose the word Ultimate. The answer is simple. Ultimate, as defined in Webster’s dictionary, means the “last in a progression or series, the final product.” That’s important because one of the most basic principles in being an Ultimate Man is understanding that as humans, we are always “a work in progress,” and Ultimate men find joy in the progress, because it means that we have unlimited potential for growth. Becoming an ultimate man is not easy, but it is possible for anyone who is willing to try, and we know what it takes to get there. Below are a few of the pieces necessary to become one.

Mastering Your Physical Health:

I don’t agree with much that comes from the Red-Pill community, but when it comes to personal health, we are on the same page. Our bodies are a gift given to us, but they do not last forever, and they require nurturing and care. That means being mindful of what we eat, finding a fitness plan that fits our preferences, going to the doctor, taking vitamins, and doing the things that keep us in tip-top form. This is important because when we look our best, we feel our best, and every man has a different ceiling for what their “best” is. You learn so much about yourself and the world when you strive to find your ceiling.

Master Your Mental Health:

I used to think it was Stanley versus the world. This perspective put me on the defensive, always in conflict with the people and things around me, while refusing to look at myself. This also left me angry, confused, and, oftentimes, feeling misunderstood. Therapy taught me that much of my and our existence is actually a battle between us and our consciousness. The shame we carry, our insecurities, our projections, our ability, or sometimes our inability to process things. Which is why one of the most important things you can do for your growth as a person and as a man is to learn about yourself and do the hard work to take care of your mind and heart. That learning to understand your emotions, and then how to manage them. And when you are more aware of your emotions, your triggers, and how they might impact the ways you show up, it makes it easier to have empathy for others. Men who master their minds have the surest path to becoming the ultimate versions of themselves.

Be a Protector:

Here is something that the traditional ideas of masculinity try to get at, but get all wrong. Boys and Men can and should be protectors, but to “protect” does not mean to “dominate.” It does not have to mean you need to fight; it does not mean you need weapons or have to engage in force. The ultimate man is someone who makes the people around him feel safe in his presence. His friends, family, and loved ones know that he is reliable, stable, present, consistent, and trustworthy. To protect means more than just being able to defeat someone in a fight. You can have an unlimited cache of weapons, along with elite fighting skills and all of the physical strength in the world, that means nothing if the people around you fear you, if they don’t feel like you know or care about them, if they believe your pursuit of strength or dominance is more important than them.

Don’t Run Away from Being Soft:

The ultimate man has more than one tool in his toolbox, which is why in our pursuit of this ultimate status, we must not run away from our emotions; we must lean into them, we must embrace the fact that we are human, and have the ability to see ourselves in others, even if we don’t always agree with them. This is important because a big part of being a protector is also the ability to nurture. Ultimate men can physically lift heaven and earth if it means protecting the ones they care for, but they are also able to sit and cry with their people, envelop them in comforting hugs, look someone in the eye, and tell them that they love them, that they are enough. Hold space for them to share their fears and insecurities, and build a bridge of trust by sharing some of yours as well. The current ideas of masculinity will have you believe that men who show emotions or any signs of softness are only spotlighting their weaknesses. But only machines are without emotions; we are mortal, as are the people around us.

Finally, if you want to be an ultimate man, know that you will not be perfect, that you will make mistakes and fall-short more times than you care to admit, that some people may not understand what you are doing and they will judge you, and while none of this may feel good, it’s ok, its a part of the process. I’ll tell you something else, I am not yet an ultimate man; I have a long way to go. Because, like you, I am a work in progress, and I don’t always live up to my ideals. But that’s the best part about this path I have chosen. To be Ultimate does not require perfection, just a willingness to get back up when we fall down, and a desire to help others as well. We can all strive to be ultimate; we can be on this journey together. I hope you will join me.

Congratulations, you made it to the end! What did you think of this post?

1. Do you agree with the idea of an “Ultimate man?”

2. What would you change?

3. What do you think is missing?

Thanks for being a subscriber to Let’s Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (mostly me, Evan J. Mastronardi and Karina Maria Write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to discuss important issues in a digestible and relatable way because nobody wants to read a TED Talk.

If you’re new, please consider subscribing. If you’re already on the list and have a few coins, consider upgrading to a paid subscriber. If you have commitment issues but want to contribute, you can buy me a coffee.

If you like my substack and want to discover other great writers, check out this directory from Marc Typo, The Cook-Out.

A couple of days ago I published an essay pleading with my readers to have empathy. To not let the craziness of this world drive them to their individual corners and start to forget that we are all humans trying our best. While I am not perfect and constantly need to be reminded to follow my own advice, I believed every word in that post. We can dislike the evil that people do, but we shouldn’t root for, or celebrate their death. And we also shouldn’t look to cause harm to others, because violence, although pitched as an effective tool, does nothing but create more violence. The world that I believe in, is one built from love. That essay was a reflection of the hopefulness I was willing through my body while struggling to make sense of the moment. But here’s something you wouldn’t have known unless you could track my search history. An hour after publishing that heartfelt post, and after spending some time on Twitter, I opened a new tab and started searching for information on how to get my gun license. My life is a symphony of contradictions.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with me, it may not raise an eyebrow that I was suddenly in search of the tools that would give me access to a weapon. But if you know me, even a little, you understand the relationship that I have had with weapons and violence, and why this news could be troubling. Let me explain.

I have had a multi dimensional relationship with guns. I have faced down the barrel of one, unsure if it was the last thing I would ever see. I have stood behind it, lonely, and terrified of everything. The cold steel weighed a ton, I thought freedom was one trigger pull away, but couldn’t bring myself to reach that Nirvana. I have been in the proximity of gunshots, they have rained past me, interrupted quiet nights, turned beautiful summer days into chaotic nightmares, I have found shell casings, had my own gun, held one my father was hiding in the house. And as much as I have engaged with and been around guns, gunshots and gun violence, they have never represented anything good, they have never brought me joy.

One of my dearest friends and also a dope ass writer, is on substack, check out her newsletter!

Pitch Rejects! -- Brea's Musings

What Is True Autonomy In An Increasingly Fascist Society?

Last summer, I read Octavia Butler’s The Parable of the Sower for the first time and was both terrified by its resonance as well as inspired by the concept of Earthseed. Through the book, Butler unde…

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7 months ago · 22 likes · 2 comments · Brea Baker

They have on many occasions represented the bubble of fear, resentment, loneliness, and sadness I felt, and no matter the context, they were always harbingers of doom. I never thought I would get to this place, but friends. The world feels both far too big, and way too small, and as a result, I am terrified. Every time I go on Twitter, I find clips from right-wing influencers bashing minority groups, useless, snake oil salesmen defending Israel’s continued massacre of Palestinians and an endless stream of negative, hate filled and angry tweets.

I don’t want to have one sided conversations, what are you thinking as you read this? Share your thoughts with me in the comments.

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I don’t know when it happened, but we have reached a point of division I never thought possible. And here’s what confuses me, everyone seems to have a grievance with one group or another. And every group, no matter how rational, or delusional their worldviews, believes they are being unfairly targeted and attacked. They see the opposing side as an imminent threat, not only to their safety, but also their way of life. But if everyone feels like they are in danger, and everyone is protecting themselves from an “evil adversary” who the hell is the threat? Who or what are we actually afraid of?

All I want, all I have ever wanted was to live a life where I was surrounded by the people I love, could read as many books as possible, marvel at sunsets, bask in the water and grow old while watching a new generation of people set on their own paths. Life has taught me that most people have a similar vision for themselves, but more than ever that vision feels blurred, distant, too far to ever be attained.

When I try to look towards that North Star, its blocked out by Proud boys, by right wing Republicans telling me that I didn’t earn anything in my life, by Trump Supporters gloating about their administrations callous targeting of Black and Brown people. Is this really the world I’m destined to live in? This endless stream of cruelty has shaken my trust in love, I don’t know if it will be enough to get us through, so I started looking into peacemakers.

It happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I just thought about the world we are in, and what could happen to me or someone I love because of the things I stand for, and before I knew it, I was pounding away on my keyboard. When the magnitude of my actions sunk in it didn’t scare me, I just felt sad, I felt like I had been telling my readers a lie, I felt like I was betraying myself. But I can’t tell a lie, I am really scared right now, I don’t know what to do about this world, and I don’t know if we can make it through this moment. More than anything, I don’t know if we as a community will properly identify who the real villain is.

The ugly answer is, it’s us. We have no one to blame but ourselves. This must be confusing, I am not arguing that bad things have not and will not happen. I’m not saying that people haven’t had terrible things done to them by others, I’m not ignoring the hate speech, the alienation, the white supremacy, the abuse, none of it. All of those things exist, but as much as they can feel like everyone hates each other, and everyone is at war, that doesn’t have to be our reality.

We are all terrified of each other because no one is willing to talk, and even fewer are willing to listen. Instead we stand in our corners, consume our curated versions of social media, and then fall into panic spirals about the other side. Here’s another inconvenient truth, we may have different ideas of what the world should be, we may not agree on every issue, but most people do not want a world dominated by hatred, violence, separation, and struggle. We want peace, we want friendship, we want safety, we want family. And those desires are being drowned out by the blaring horns of division.

I’m still terrified, I’m still unsure of what this world will be, I still may end up purchasing a gun, I wont lie and act like things have shifted so much in between writing this essay and sending it to you, that I will find the strength to heed my own words. But before I do that, I want to try my hardest to reach out to people, real people, I want to understand their stories, I want to find things we can bond over, I want to talk about our hopes, dreams, and aspirations, because if we know each other, if we can see even a small bit of ourselves in each other, there will no longer be anything to fear… I Hope.

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Thanks for being a subscriber to Let’s Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (mostly me, Evan J. Mastronardi and Karina Maria Write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to discuss important issues in a digestible and relatable way because nobody wants to read a TED Talk.

If you’re new, please consider subscribing. If you’re already on the list and have a few coins, consider upgrading to a paid subscriber. If you have commitment issues but want to contribute, you can buy me a coffee.

If you like my substack and want to discover other great writers, check out this directory from Marc Typo, The Cook-Out.

I watched the movie, “Thor, Love and Thunder” for the first time since it was released in theaters. By most accounts, this movie was a dud. It suffered from a combination of negative reviews for its choice to tap female actress, Nathalie Porthman as the next Thor, and anger from fans upset about it’s “over emphasis on humor” Chris Hemmingsworth, the feature actor even admitted that it might have been “too silly.” So sure, it grossed $700-million dollars world wide, but we probably won’t be seeing anymore Thor movies with that tone or style of storytelling. To most marvel fans this is wonderful news, I find it disheartening.

Love and Thunder had its flaws, specifically in the visual effects, but under the shaky CGI, and slapstick humor, there was an important message. The movie opens through the perspective of a man named GORR. He is traveling with his young daughter; the two of them have escaped a dying village and are searching for a paradise promised by their God.

The journey they undertake is brutal, and we spend most of the opening scenes watching them traverse through a waste-land absent of food, water or proper shelter. After several days of struggling, they begin to succumb to fatigue and sickness. GORR’s daughter is the first to go. He’s forced to watch her die, and continue the journey on his own. Just as he is about to meet his end, he reaches a forest so lush with resources, he believes that he is dreaming. Once reality sets in, he cries in relief and begins to hungrily eat the fruit around him. His moment of salvation is interrupted when he hears the voice of a powerful man confused by his presence there.

Thinking he has found his savior, GORR cries while explaining his predicament to the God. He tells the God that his people have “lost everything” the God scoffs at GORR then tells him that “suffering is the least mortals can do for Gods” he then demands GORR leave the premise so that the God may continue celebrating the death of a a wretched “god killer”. This moment pushes GORR to anger and he publicly rebukes him. Enraged by this “Disrespect” the God grabs GORR by the throat and attempts to choke him to death, but GORR is able to turn the tables when he discovers a sword that allows him to kill even the omnipotent. He slays the God with one strike, and that is when we learn the true nature of the weapon that saved his life. It sends GORR dark messages, encouraging him to “take back everything he has lost” it champions GORR for his decision to slay the God. With nothing else to live for, and a heart full of resentment and anger for all that he has been through, GORR dedicates his life to slaying every single God he can find.

Gorr’s origin is a single wave in the ocean that is Thor Love and Thunder. Truly, the movie centers around Thor, who after helping to defeat Thanos, doesn’t know who he is, or what he wants to do with his life. He spends his day’s theatrically lazing around, while looking for the thing that will fulfill him. While he goes on this tone deaf journey of self discovery, Jane Foster, Played by Natalie Portman, is facing deaths door after a cancer diagnosis deteriorated her health. It is only after rediscovering Thors hammer, picking it up herself and becoming a God that she is able to cheat death. But only for as long as she is willing to hold the mantle. This precarious dilemma leads to the former couple reuniting, and while the world suffers, they try to see if there’s a spark left in their relationship.

While Thor and Jane work on figuring things out, GORR is on a war-path that will set him on a collision course with The two of them. That eventual confrontation forces Thor to come face to face with the ways he has fallen short as the God of Thunder. While he sat in a basement, drinking beer, gaining weight feeling sorry for hisself and avoiding his problems, the planets he promised to protect were left without any support and had suffered greatly. While Thor had never forgotten the importance of his title the “God of Thunder” he let his arrogance get in the way of living up to the values of that role. And it wasn’t just him, Gods all over the galaxy had become fat, greedy, lazy, and disconnected from reality while their people suffered. This was a painful realization for Thor and Jane when they went to Olympus for help in defeating the God killer.

Let's Not Be Trash

Even When it Hurts, We Must Choose Love

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7 months ago · 26 likes · 11 comments · Stanley Fritz

Besides Thor and Jane, no one with actual power was willing to stand up and fight, so the two of them were forced to face the manifestation of their failures alone. I wont spoil the movie for you, instead I’ll get to the point. Love and Thunder was poorly received because under the cheesy humor, and CGI, there was a mirror facing society, and many of us did not like what we saw. The plot of Love and thunder is very much the reality we live in today. As you read this, a handful of people with unlimited money and limited views run our country. Their form of governance has been to target the vulnerable, steal our wealth, and disappear anyone they view as a threat. While they’re doing this, our “leaders” are writing “Strongly worded letters,” complaining about being asked to do their jobs, and running from every fight. Unless of course they’re fighting to protect the interest of their benefactors. While it’s easier to ignore the truth, what this Thor movie did better than most was tell us what many already know. Our country is in crisis.

When those who have been blessed with power become drunk off of it, people will take things into their own hands. As confidence in our leadership continues to decrease you will see an increase in rogue activity, because someone has to do something. And as more people suffer, the concept of GORR will no longer be an idea on paper, it will be a reality. In the U.S. our gods are the ultra wealthy, corporations, and their many ambassadors.

While they make money hand over fist, many of them doing so while exploiting the most vulnerable, more and more people are taking things into their own hands. In reality, the God killers are people like Luigi Mangione, and Rodney Hinton Jr. Luigi allegedly killed the CEO of United Healthcare, many people believe this happened because of the healthcare company’s predatory treatment of its patients. Rodney Hinton, two hours after watching body cam footage of police murdering his son, allegedly killed a retired police officer. If the courts can prove these two men are guilty of the actions they are accused of, it would be clear example’s people responding to a system that does not care for any of us.

And where does that get us? In truth, nowhere. No matter how hard things get, or how much our leaders fail us, the response can never be violence. But, If things continue to go the way they are, and those who have been trusted to represent us refuse to make a change, what do you expect people to do? Why should voters put their trust in Hakeem Jeffries or Chuck Schumer when they spend more time criticizing a Democratic Socialist, than they push back against a racist, white supremacist agenda? Why shouldn’t the poor white man in Middle America join the proud boys, a group grounded in hatred and discrimination, but one that gives him community and something to fight for, when his elected representatives have done nothing but bash trans people, complain about affirmative action, and vote away his rights so that some corporations could make a couple of extra million dollars a year? If you strip people of opportunity, and remove all hope, humans don’t just stop living, they adjust to their circumstances. In Thor, GORR became a God killer because he lost everything, and decided to make the entities who promised to protect him pay with their life.

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In the real world, we are watching the idea of America collapse under millions of disillusioned, and heart broken citizens. If something doesn’t change we may end up destroying each other, and this country. At the end of Love and Thunder, GORR chose love, the love he had for his daughter and family were stronger than the hurt he felt after being abandoned and ridiculed by his Gods. That love saved Thor and his friends, but their conclusion was built within a structure of a movie that must give closure. We can package a happy ending in a movie without much effort, but if we want things to be different in reality, we will need to make some serious changes. If we want to put an end to the rise of GORR’s all over our country, we need to clean house in our leadership, and center our politics on protecting communities, investing in people and valuing life. If we refuse to make this change, there will be nothing but more God killers, and endless suffering.

Thanks for being a subscriber to Let's Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (mostly me, Evan J. Mastronardi and Karina Maria Write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to discuss important issues in a digestible and relatable way because nobody wants to read a TED Talk.

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I assume by now you have all heard the news. Charlie Kirk, the 31-year old right wing influencer that once called George Floyd a “Scum bag who wasn’t worth our attention” and argued that the Civil Rights act was a “Destructive force in American politics” is dead. He was shot in the neck while giving a speech at a college campus in Utah. Hundreds of people in attendance saw him die, millions by now have watched it on line. The image is horrible so if you haven’t seen it, I encourage you to keep it that way. I’ll be honest, I’m struggling, Charlie’s death is a tragedy, and nothing good ever comes from violence, but I have deep issues with what he stood for.

I’m writing this because I think it’s important to share that struggle, while also holding on to what I know to be the truth. Nothing good ever comes from violence, no one wins when we go out of our way to inflict pain on each other, and while to some of us it may seem like only one death, that’s unfortunately not how any of this works. Human life is, and should be the most valuable thing we have in this world, and whenever someone dies, and that death doesn’t occur with them in their senior years, leaving this earth peacefully while surrounded by family and loved ones, we should look in the mirror and ask ourselves, what kind of world are we trying to build?

I didn’t expect to be so impacted by Charlie’s death, unlike his most loyal followers, he is not someone that I admired. I didn’t know the man, all I can account for is what he said publicly, and much of what I saw was hurtful and disturbing. Charlie described himself as an advocate for free speech, but then created a website, that singled out professors (usually Black or Brown) who discussed issues he and his followers didn’t agree with. One of the people listed received so much hate mail and death threats that campus security offered to provide her an escort from fear that something could happen. On racial issues, he wasn’t much better, he disparaged George Floyd, called Martin Luther King “Awful” , insinuated that Black women were congenitally impaired, and went out of his way to trash the LGBTQ community.

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It’s hard to see eye to eye with someone who seemed to make a living speaking poorly of communities and people I love and admire. It’s twice as difficult when it seems like his rhetoric is beginning to spread in ways that increase hate-speech. Before his death, that’s what Kirk was to me, someone who amplified hate speech against marginalized groups, and his rise in popularity scared me, because it forced me to wonder out loud, “if this is how the rest of the country views their neighbors?” His death has caused a flurry of reactions, there are more people than I imagined who seem deeply hurt by his loss of life, they found him to be a powerful and even unifying voice. I know that we tend to speak kindly on the dead, but I don’t understand some of the praise he has received, especially when he spent so much of his time disparaging minority groups.

I spent much of the week wrestling with these thoughts as I watched the social media olympics play out. Some people mourned his death, others found humor in his demise, and another group took it as an attack on their way of life, they are now looking for ways to redirect their pain and hurt at the groups they deem to be “threats” In all of this anger, hurt and confusion it feels like we are ignoring something fundamental, and deeply important. that we are all human.

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Charlie did not deserve what happened to him. No one does! I feel horrible for his family, for his children who will now grow up without their father, for the terrifying reality that they may some day be able to find a video of his gruesome death online. It makes my chest hurt when I think about the ways their lives have now been turned upside down. I know to some this may sound crazy, because if the shoe was on the other foot, I don’t think he would have empathy for me, in fact, he would probably attribute it to some racist idea about Black men, but I can’t change how he or other people move in this world, all I have control of is myself, and no matter what others do, I don’t want to stop caring about people, even if they don’t feel the same way about me.

I choose love because in a world with so much pain, someone has to be willing to be different, because if we keep accepting violence, soon there will be nothing left. And here’s the thing, violence is easy to choose, vengeance, pettiness and anger are familiar and quick, but they burn us up inside, they destroy us. That’s why it's so important especially in dark times like these, to try to see ourselves in others. For someone who stood for what Charlie did, that is hard, but stick with me for a minute.

We may not have shared the same views on life, but I know what it’s like to wake up everyday and try to show up for the world and yourself. I understand that no matter how one person might viewed, there is someone out there who loves them, who they are important to. And even if they don’t know it or believe it, they are deserving of that love. When I focus on that, and I look at Charlie through this lens, I can relate. No one is given an instruction manual on life, we all do our best to survive, even if our efforts feel wrong or unfamiliar to others. During my first year of therapy, while discussing a relationship that had ended abruptly my therapist said something that will always stick with me. “People can only give you what they have, and more often than not, how they grew up and what they experienced influences how they show up in the world. What we saw from Charlie was what he had to give.

We all come into this world pure, and then through the process of living, things happen that shape how we approach life, relationships, conflicts and pain. Those who are all too familiar with pain, can sometimes fall into the cycle of feeling like it’s normal, it takes a herculean effort to break that cycle. Those who are raised and surrounded by hatred, can sometimes accept that as their reality, and those who have been hurt can sometimes attempt to move beyond it by hurting others. Not because they are evil, not because they hate you, not because they want to cause harm, but because it is all they know.

It is within this framework that cycles of harm can continue. At one point Charlie was young, and like all children he was pure and had no malice in his heart. Something happened, and maybe multiple things did. They colored his worldview, and as a result, the world got a man who believed in his principles deeply, but was grounded in ideas that were shaped by hatred. Whatever lies he was told became his gospel, whatever sadness plagued him, became all of our problems. If given more time, maybe he could have changed his mind. Humans have unlimited potential, but his was cut short, so now we will never know. That’s what happens when we don’t care about each other.

Violence is easy, hatred, anger, and vitriol spread fast because they are simple to use and accessible to everyone, but they are nothing but empty calories, and they are usually smokescreens for the truth. Under all of that bluster, rage, gloating, and passion is usually hurt, confusion, isolation, and fear. If we can get to the source, we can heal. So yes, when you tap into the anger, which manifests into different forms of violence, it may feel good for a moment but in the end it takes more than it gives, and pushes the cycle of harm forward. We don’t have to keep hurting each other, we don’t have to live in endless suffering, we don’t even all have to like each other, but we must never forget that we are all connected, and that love is the only thing that can save us.

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Thanks for being a subscriber to Let's Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (Stanley Fritz, Evan J. Mastronardi, and Karina Maria ) write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to talk about important issues, in a way that is digestible and relatable. Because nobody wants to read a Ted Talk.

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I’ve been meaning to write this for a while.

’s recent personal account on the topic, my own writing on the Manosphere, and new efforts with my friend Stefanos, , made me feel this is the right time.

I admit it’s hard to write about one of the worst chapters in my life, especially when it comes to love and romance. But it happened.

Nearly six years. During my mid 20s. Through my last year of undergrad, grad school, and years beyond that. Nearly six years without any intimate contact with women. And it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Three mf presidential administrations. Yankees missing three postseason appearances.

Nothin. Empty. A “drought” as many men call it.

I rarely would discuss it when the topic would come up in conversation with friends because it is always worse than others’ ‘droughts.’

“Yo broo-it’s been 6 months since I last had a girl over. What was the longest for you?

“Yeah…6...”

I just never felt open to telling most people that it had been since the end of Obama’s first term since I was with a girl. It’s a hard thing for us as men to discuss for many reasons, as I’ll get into in later pieces.

It started following HS and entering college. I felt that the things I did have going for me, the things I could lean on even without presenting as the most confident guy, given insecurities hammered in by society: my humor, ability to hold conversations for hours on the phone, my wide range of cultural references, poetry, rhyme, and romance—the things that still helped me have four girlfriends to this point—seemed to become less important.

Dating apps were being developed, everyone was texting many people at once, not even committing to sit-down AIM conversations with said people. People started talking on the phone less, period.

The way I was able to get to know women over the phone and in person as initial steps to demonstrate my personality, leading to any mutual affection—the things I felt I needed to do to account for ‘missing’ the ‘standard minimum stature,’ seemed to be fleeting. Now, so much was online through screens, following screening including openly disqualifying for things like..height.

Now it became: ‘why talk when you can text?’ ‘Why dedicate time to these conversations when I could just continue whatever else I’m doing?’

By the time I finished undergrad in 2013, I seemed more detached from dating than ever before. I had already stopped seeing my on and off again love interest Melanie at the beginning of the year, finally accepting she didn’t want something serious with me. And then the deep, piercing void began.

The next 6 years would be without much physical touch from women. I could tell you the story of how many times I thought about giving up, just in life. But I would rather not do that.

Because it’s also my story of a comeback.

Let's Not Be Trash

When I Learned I Love Different: I

Thanks for being a subscriber to Let's Not Be Trash. If you’re new here, we (Stanley Fritz, Evan J. Mastronardi, and Karina Maria ) write about patriarchy, politics, race, culture, music, and ruminations. The goal is to talk about important issues, in a way that is digestible and r…

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2 years ago · 14 likes · 8 comments · Evan J. Mastronardi

First I had to feel better.

I kept neat facial hear; wore better cologne. Started working out and eating better. Got new clothes that fit better. Got the rest tailored. Used Christmas money for some nice suits. Went to the barber once a month. I took a week to narrow down between dozens of therapists I found online to find the one I would be with for the nearly 9 years up to present day. Started a necessary medication regimine for my mental, physical health, that I had disregarded.

Then, I had to make a degree of compromise with the world. I tried online dating apps.

A lot of communication has shifted online. A lot of people were meeting online. That didn’t mean that I couldn’t keep myself. I could be genuine, I could adapt, and do it my way. I wasn’t going to let superficialization of communication methods change the content in how I communicated.

I dated online and occasionally still the old fashioned way-like asking out the cute barista in Spanish to indicate would could also date in Spanish, which we did.

I got ghosted. Yelled at via text when I didn’t know I did anything wrong. Had Unexpected One Night Guests (UONG)—aka my ‘one nighters’ were not my intention; I wanted extended stays. Had relationships. Had long distance 8+ month relationships, just to get ghosted. Had long term, local relationships end, got back out there, got dubbed, and then did it all over again.

AKA I was in the game. AKA I won.

Being in the game, the one I felt categorical disqualified from, meant I won. Disappointments, detours, and all.

Too many young men today are feeling like their sex and love life is some pre-determined shit at 16 years old. Like their toxic idiot friends are also the chosen ones to be on some Minority Report shit.

Spoiler alert: The kid doing locker pranks, your frat bro shaming your body count, even well-meaning friends and family, aint Tom Cruise. Rando38447 user doesn’t know your future. Your experience with women from casual dicktivities to beautiful intimacy and romance aint predetermined.

You in control, b.

Evan’s Substack

Letter to Lost Boys: Dear Lost City Boys

Author’s note: This is written toward cisgendered heterosexual men, as I am writing from my personal experience and to those who are the primary demographic of much of the online, podcast, media messaging referenced…

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8 months ago · 1 like · Evan J. Mastronardi

But we gotta reclaim control from a narrative much bigger than us—but with none of our interests at heart.

While the term incel existed in my 20s and Reddit along with Wolf Men and Red Pill Pharma, et. Alpha, it never appealed to me. I was and still am too much of a romantic to want to read Brogan69’s vagina-hating manifesto on some subreddit to the tune of a comment section larger than my undergrad thesis. They just seemed like spaces that would make me more angry and depressed.

So my sentimental, poetic self, which some would see as soft, actually saved me. Believing in an education saved me. Having a hobbies like baseball, writing, comedy, music, radio, saved me. Having male friends interested in doing activities, eating together, laughing together, no matter what happened with my love interests, saved me.

But for those who doesn’t feel heard, and are even more detached, those who grow up in families who don’t believe in or have access to therapy, who don’t have meaningful friendships, community, or support mechanisms, these forums are a sympathetic ear.

“Hey, we’re in the same situation.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”

Which is a nice alternative from:

“You’re soft, a loser…too this or too that” to be attractive to any of the women that you are attracted to. Which are messages young men could absolutely hear directly in middle school, high school, and college, if not indirectly through the type of social media hyperbolic content that gets platformed.

But any supportive counter-narrative in the Manosphere quickly devolves into:

“And here’s whose fault it is. Here’s how you channel that anger.”

And we all know who ends up being the one to blame: women.

And young men some stay there. Which is dangerous enough. Harboring view that women are the source of your misery is dangerous in itself. Experiences with women from family to romantic interests and partners can indeed be traumatic. But the Manosphere blames Women with a capital W, as a unit. Essentially women become pieces only to validate you in the eyes of other men and not for the beautiful, equal, human value they offer in a relationship.

And then some become Elliot Roger.

And then some support the Elliot Roger’s of the world.

And when you add up that chart, it’s a bigger piece of the pie than we’d like to admit.

I now own that time of my life because I am not defined by it.

But it wasn’t healthy.

It left a scar and wounds I still am recovering from. To feel so distant, and sometimes blatantly rejected from the constant, innate human desire for romance, intimacy, and connection, is a problem for any man. But we must find as individuals, and as a society, healthy, supportive ways to deal with an unhealthy interim. Because involuntary celibacy aint going anywhere. It is going to be a part of life for many men, and likely, with unregulated AI being able to replicate sex and relationships, it’s only going to get worse.

We must be part of the solution by being part of an alternative sphere.

As it stands now, when it comes to lack of intimacy of all kinds, we are essentially leaving men to struggle in silence, leaving them to seek order through Manosphere chaos.

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