Politics

It’s a controversy from maybe the most replayed foul in the history of women’s basketball. Sophie Cunningham of the Indiana Fever ran for the easy layup, and Di Jonai Carrington threw a clothesline to her cheek. Indiana’s head coach Stephanie White was asked for comment, and instead of supporting Cunningham, she defended Carrington, complimenting the aggression in her general game. Critics couldn’t believe what we heard; the coach appeared to side with an opposing player that left hers with a bloody mouth. But while I understood the objections, I’m not convinced that White is a villain. Pundits concluded that she was indifferent to the well-being of her team, but speculation of motives is difficult, and her comments do not necessarily lead to betrayal. While there are reasons to pause from White’s response to the foul, she may still earn the respect of the Indiana Fever.

Coach White seemed to not feel any outrage for the foul, and her response was unique. As a life-long sports fan, I have watched many coaches and players launch verbal assaults for egregious fouls by opponents. When they voice their anger at reporters, the support for their team is always evident. Never had I heard a coach spend the bulk of their time sharing positive comments about an attacker. Critics and fans will be perplexed how a leader can take such a position, and this wasn’t even the first time White had done it this season. Earlier this year, she had a similarly soft stance when a player shoved their fist onto the throat of star player Caitlin Clark. One time defending the opponent is strange; two is a pattern of indifference—a disconcerting attitude from any head coach.

Media condemned White for her support of Carrington, and the objections seemed reasonable. Sports 101 would teach us that a coach is the team’s greatest advocate—the biggest cheerleader, and its staunchest defender. If a coach appears sympathetic and coddling to an opponent that committed an out-of-line foul, they’re failing the morale of their own team. From here, ripple effects spread through the franchise. Players can become resentful, losing trust in their coach, whether or not they share their feelings publicly. Division and discontent fill the locker room, and it risks failure to win—the greatest measure of success in sports. Losing for lack of talent is understandable; losing from unforced errors is despicable. The media demanded nothing more from White than it would expect from any coach, and critics were vocal in calling for White to be fired.

Other details raise more concerns about Coach White. She claimed to have not seen the replay of the foul, nor to have had a good view of the clothesline. But critics caught imagery showing White watching the foul from behind. And also, it seems odd that a coach wouldn’t catch the replay of such a hard foul. Between the Jumbotron and any number of screens before the press conference, she would have had ample opportunities. And before the next game, White spoke to the media with belligerence, responding to those calling for her firing. With a pounding fist, she objected to anyone questioning her commitment to the Fever. There are famous moments of coaches losing their composure with the press, and this qualified. Critics now held even more ammo to condemn White, calling her unprofessional with further calls for her removal. For the good of the team, they said she had to go.

But despite the narrative of White as a betrayer, there is still room to believe she has the best interest of her players. It’s easy to claim someone is sinister when other factors might explain their words. Consider that White was Carrington’s former coach of two years on the Connecticut Sun. In the second year, Carrington won the award for Most Improved Player, and she became part of the All-Defensive First Team. That’s quite a leap in one season, and it might explain the empathy White felt for her former player. Maybe she has fond memories of Carrington proving her skills and tenacity. Maybe White felt pride for having a part to play in Carrington’s development, prompting her defense. Her history with Carrington can explain the comments—a simpler explanation, and an understandable reaction from a coach about her former player.

The history of the WNBA is also worth considering as influential on White. Women’s basketball has never had the stability other sports will naturally take for granted. If a league has the cash and enthusiasm of a large enough fan base, coaches and players can afford to treat other teams with full-throated tribalism. The WNBA, on the other hand, has faced mockery and ridicule for decades. Critics note their annual revenue losses with the need for the NBA to continually bankroll the league. No NFL coach has ever had to defend the league’s right to exist, so maybe WNBA coaches don’t see team rivalries in the same way. While White wants to win, she might see the entire league as one team. One organization. One beleaguered business that defends itself with pride in its product. So maybe there is a different perspective within the WNBA—one that wouldn’t occur to men to hold in more successful leagues.

We could think of other reasons for White reacting as she did, and while it’s all speculation, is it more-so than the judgments of critics that have called for her firing? Motives are hard to prove, and it shouldn’t be so easy to claim to know someone’s. Belief that White is a disloyal, uncommitted leader is guesswork of the coach’s heart. It’s conspiratorial to think such ill of a coach who has committed their career to leadership of athletes.  If I’m wrong about White, then I’m wrong. Maybe she’s awful, and her locker room is a mess. But I won’t assume deception, nor presume to know what drives her. It’s a bridge too far for me to connect White’s comments about Carrington to betrayal of the Fever. And it’s important for me to remember that media will always be in search of villains. Their opinions are sincere, but popularity demands antagonists.

Cunningham and Clark, for their part, later countered this media narrative by defending Coach White. They hardly sounded like players who felt betrayed by their leader. They were happy to support their coach, though some dismissed their comments. It’s not what they really think, some said. They’re so young and impressionable; they’re just taking marching orders to act like everything is fine. While I find the cynicism relatable, it feels disrespectful to assume their words aren’t their own. It’s dismissive of the players, viewing them as children receiving directions from parents.* Without evidence that they’re lying, it’s just more speculation. Maybe the simpler explanation is in fact the truth: That there is no strife, and the Fever have no resentment of their coach. Maybe White advocate for her players both past and present.

What we conclude of White comes down to whether we believe two things can be true at once: That a coach can show admiration for an aggressive opponent, and the coach can hold unwavering support for their own team. In the end, I’m not sure what to believe. White’s defense of Carrington was unconventional, and it’s possible White was lying about seeing the foul. But there’s also reasonable speculation that can speak of her positively, countering claims of indifference and malice. Cunningham and Clark say she is supportive, and the context of the WNBA leaves enough room to suggest that the players and coaches of different teams will come to support each other. So when the Fever released a statement expressing support for Coach White, maybe it’s actually true. Maybe all is well in the locker room—that Coach White stands with her team, and the Indiana Fever are doing just fine.

*I wonder if we would have the same skepticism of comments from male athletes. Would we dismiss them so easily? Would we question their truthfulness? Would we believe they’re taking orders from the powers that be? It is hard for me to picture two men in the place of Cunningham and Clark, and our reactions being the same.

Imagine the time it takes to publish a poll only for people to misread it in a few seconds. So it was with a Gallup survey showing patriotism between political parties in 2025—36% of Democrats “very” or “extremely” proud of America, versus 92% Republicans. The data was destined for weaponization. With such results, we’ll simplify the results. We’ll leap to lazy conclusions. And we’ll affirm what we already thought about others. In this case, the impression can be that the majority of Democrats dislike America. But as usual, the story is more complex. There is more going on in the hearts of millions of voters, and the numbers deserve a thoughtful review.

I was familiar with the survey when watching a popular YouTuber misrepresent it. He was googling how many Democrats love America, and I knew what was coming.

Oh no, I thought as he typed the question, whispering it to himself. Please don’t. It’s more than you’re…

But that was it. The wheels were in motion; his judgment coming at high speed.

36% of Democrats are proud to … you see! Right there! 64% of Democrats hate America!

He was proud to affirm what he already thought of Democrats, and millions now confirmed their contempt for anyone left of center. It was sad, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Now we can be fair to him and his viewers by being open about things that’ll convince us the Democratic Party is anti-American. It’s the side more likely to burn the flag, and to support its legalization. It’s the side that condemns the U.S. for capitalism and systemic racism, from TikTok rage to academia. It’s the side where President Obama’s pastor preached “God Damn America”, while Hasan Piker is one of its most popular commentators today. It’s the side where people fault America for even existing, citing stolen land and historical oppressions. And it’s the side appearing content if not joyful for the murders of Charlie Kirk and a health insurance CEO. Such words and acts are from real elements of the Left, and none of them were pulled from imagination.

But we must do our best to separate these impressions from the thoughts of millions who would take their side in elections. The 77 million Americans who voted for Kamala Harris weren’t celebrating Charlie Kirk’s death. They’re not in the streets burning flags, and they’re not interested in damning America. Many don’t even pay enough attention to grow such feelings; only 36% say they follow news all or most of the time. People lead busy lives while only catching the occasional headline. But online media will immerse us in the loudest voices while studies like the Gallup poll pull us to view the public from 5,000 feet. With the complexity of individuals’ perspectives, it’s unreasonable to judge millions the same as the angriest on their side.

Let’s then take a real look at the poll. The 36% were Democrats saying they’re either extremely (20%) or very (16%) proud to be American. Another 28% were moderately proud, 23% only a little, and 13% not at all. With moderate pride of country, the 28% still have patriotism, but they might not want to put themselves in the same category as “very” or “extremely”. These are strong words, and most of us would hesitate to label ourselves with them on many topics.* Then there are those with only a little pride – 23%. No doubt, it’s a discouraging, suspicious number to some. But the 23% must have found something in their hearts to appreciate the country. So do they hate America? It seems unlikely. If you’re a little proud of something, then you’re likely not vengeful against it.

The 13% not proud at all now become the true candidates for hatred. While this would be the answer for Hasan Piker, I still hesitate to label the lot the same as him. Just as “very” and “extremely” are strong words, so is “hate”. Does “not at all” necessarily translate to hatred in a person? It seems plausible that some instead will have no opinion at all. Maybe their upbringing just didn’t include parades for the Stars and Stripes every 4th. Maybe they simply live lives without a feeling of need for patriotic spirit. They have other things to think about. Other interests. Other priorities. (I was one of them in my younger years.) If we could ask them, maybe some would even be surprised people think they hate America. Maybe some are just indifferent, holding to other things that drive their hopes and worries.

A certain trend in the Gallup data is worth review: The reactions to who becomes president. The poll was in 2025, and only one year earlier, the 36% number was 62%—a 26-point drop, and the single largest shift in the 20-year history of the poll. Republicans or Independents aren’t immune from this either; the former dropped seven points with the 2020 election, and the latter the same after 2024. This shows how many aren’t so much thinking of American principles, but only the latest election. Some Democrats will ask how they can be proud for a nation that elects Donald Trump, and Republicans might ask the same with Joe Biden. Such events are bound to influence people’s thoughts on America.

And current events in general will sway our answers. As late as 2013, the number of Democrats answering as very or extremely was 85%. It’s an unfathomable number today, from only 13 years ago. But the numbers dropped over time, showing that people will change their answers from circumstance. Maybe people turned sour on America when the great hopes of Obama campaigns never materialized. Maybe smart phones started bringing to our eyes endless scenes of perils, shifting our perceptions of reality. And as noted, presidential elections matter. Whatever our opinions, the years of the first Trump administration took a gradual toll on patriotism for both Democrats and independents. These are the things on people’s minds. They show disgruntlement, but maybe not hatred.

My next-door neighbors come to mind when I think of people who might answer this poll. The mother is from Italy, the father from Israel, and last year they became American citizens. The mother is left-leaning with a strong dislike of President Trump. But on the 4th of July, their nine-year old daughter gave our children a beautiful card for the holiday. With red and blue marker, the American flag covers the front with “Happy 250 America” in the blue box. The back has a greeting to our kids, and the inside has a drawing of their family with ours watching fireworks. I ask myself now, knowing some of their political views: Do they hate America? Would I judge them for their answer to this question? Should I judge our neighborhood in the same way, knowing its politics? People are more complicated than we think.

Be considerate of your own neighbors when reading any such poll. This isn’t a defense from someone in the Democratic Party. Nor is it even a claim that patriotism is the greatest virtue to aspire to. It’s a plea to recognize how easily we misread data and condemn others for it. I could name the YouTuber who affirmed people’s hate for Democrats, but he’s just one of many that can skip the work of reading sources. We look for evidence justifying our biases. But life isn’t simple, and our neighbors aren’t either. Think about what might come to their minds when answering this survey, and we might not judge them at all.

*This is just a suspicion, but I wonder if some will stop themselves from answering “very” proud because they think of Republicans. With strong patriotism now only associated with one party, it might be a turnoff for some to see themselves in that way. So they don’t dislike America; they just dislike the other side. [back]

Earlier this year, insights from William Shatner pushed me to an unexpected sorrow. In his book “Boldly Go”, the Star Trek legend wrote of his experience traveling to space in 2021. At age 90, he found himself among the stars in real life, but he discovered a surprising, overwhelming sadness. The universe appeared to him now as a lifeless, endless void with no appeal to explore. And by contrast, the blue globe below him now radiated with life—the one planet we know of that can sustain us. Shatner, an actor who inspired generations to dream of the final frontier, now only spoke of it with grief. But he also took a deep appreciation for our planet, and I want to as well. Earth not only sustains life, but it can fill us with awe if we allow it to.

I found myself on this emotional journey when I watched a video that brings home the awe-inspiring vastness of space. It simulates views of our sun from the surfaces of various planets. Starting on Mercury and moving outward, it becomes smaller and smaller as we travel beyond the solar system. By the end, it’s only one of many stars and other images that flood the universe. With solemn background music, it’s awe-inspiring—beautiful, humbling scenes that can shake any of us from the thoughts of our current troubles. A certain Bible verse can now carried new weight—“The Heavens declare the glory of God”. Immersion in space can force us to find new perspective, as it did for Shatner.

His words about the emptiness of space then came to mind toward the end. I stopped watching the scenes with wonder, feeling a bit of the sorrow that filled Shatner when he broke Earth’s atmosphere. Instead of seeing beauty, the universe now appeared as dead. Lifeless. Empty with no signs of anything worth visiting. The famous phrase from Star Trek’s creed – “To seek out new life and new civilizations” – now rang hollow. What life? What civilizations? So far as we can tell today, they aren’t there. And for William Shatner to be the messenger of this was jarring. It was equivalent to Santa Claus taking off his beard to tell kids he doesn’t exist. There was now only sadness for a universe that has so much, yet so little.

Now none of us know for sure if there is life beyond Earth, and I don’t mean to come down on the idea that there is. I can understand the motivations to believe it’s true. It might be unappealing to believe humanity is the sole source of consciousness in a random universe. And to believe it means there is no new frontier of interest. No prospects for the future exchange of ideas, culture, and new friendships. So I can’t say that Earth is the one and only planet in the universe with flora or fauna.* But if there are other planets like Earth, reaching them would take warp speeds we can still only dream of. So unless aliens are coming down to greet us soon, we are alone, for all practical purposes.

But even with the understandable sadness from Shatner, I don’t want to feel despair about it. And neither did he. The lifelessness of space brought him to see Earth with renewed appreciation. Instead of sorrow, Shatner found hope from the world he had left. Maybe it takes a good stare into the abyss to bring us to gratitude for what we already have. And for myself, I can better understand people who stare at nature for hours in wonder. A sunset. A spider web. An autumn that blankets the land in colorful leaves. An ocean that blinds us with endless blue waves. It turns out, we don’t need a distant galaxy for fulfillment. We can just look outside, and we can feel happiness for what’s at our doorstep.

The beauty of Earth makes me think of the journeys that previous generations took to find new civilizations. The deserts leading to the Nile River. The mountains standing as gates to the greener pastures of Oregon. Spaniards sailed west while Marco Polo walked east. Travelers were compelled to explore distant terrains, but the difference with space is that the travels on Earth always led to life. If the frontier is lifeless, it stops everything that makes a frontier worth exploring. While this isn’t to discourage the ambitions of scientists looking to the stars, but such thoughts have left this Star Trek fan with a new point of view.

We can choose, as Shatner did, to appreciate the earth under our feet. Next winter, I will step into the sub-zero atmosphere of Minnesota. An odd place to find appreciation, but I will still try to hold gratitude. To breathe the chill air of our atmosphere; to stare at the glistening snow on tree limbs; to gaze at the Orion constellation; and to feel happy for having a livable, breathable seat to look at the universe. And when winter thaws, maybe I’ll find a bug to stare at. Or a squirrel. Or even a wasp. It’s life, and it might not be anywhere else in the universe. Earth is a diamond in a land of sand, and while I’ll never tell anyone to stop exploring space, I’ll stare at what’s down here with fulfillment. And so can you.

*In high school, a science teacher took us through a series of calculations that put the odds of life on another planet as astronomical. I can’t remember the equations; I only thought, Wow, Star Trek really feels like fiction now. [back]

Love of country is something I’ve struggled to embrace my entire life, and the feeling is mutual for many. Gallup last year found 20% of Americans have little to no patriotism—an all-time high for the survey. Some will ask why we should feel pride for a place we’re born to by chance, and others will question America’s shortcomings past and present. For myself, faith was a deterrent from patriotic devotion, with cynicism growing through my younger years. But in time, I developed an appreciation, and if Gallup called me today, I would join those who say they’re very proud to be Americans.

Faith was my first obstacle as a church experience made me question the virtue of patriotism. In college, I went to a concert for Switchfoot, a popular Christian rock band. I entered the outdoor arena and saw a three-foot wooden cross at center stage. But in the middle of a song, fireworks exploded as an American flag dropped in the background. It covered the stage from end to end, and the crowd went nuts. The colors obscured the cross, and I had an unsettled feeling. Which should I give homage to? The lyrics told me to praise God, but the spectacle implied something else. It felt like I was told to serve two masters in life. They won’t always align, and it was an off-putting message that always stayed with me.

Readings would later confirm in me the reluctance to love America. An ancient Christian letter, To Diognetus, further inspired me to deny my devotion to the state. Sharing of the lives of Christians in the second century, the author wrote of their separation from the world around them.

…though they are residents at home in their own countries, their behavior there is more like that of transients [resident aliens]; they take their full part as citizens, but they also submit to anything and everything as if they were aliens. For them, any foreign country is a motherland, and any motherland is a foreign country.

If Christians are to be aliens, how can we swear an unfailing love for the place we live? If “our citizenship is in Heaven,” as Saint Paul wrote, how can I follow fallible leaders and patriots? This was my line of thinking, and even today, I hold pride in the idea of being an alien. I will follow the laws of my country, and I want to love my neighbors. But this is not my home, and it shouldn’t receive my fealty.

Current events later added to my disillusionment. There was the Iraq War—an occupation seeming as a sequel to Vietnam, raising further doubts in us of our institutions. Then there was the Great Recession—a mark of capitalist greed as unchecked investments almost collapsed the global economy. And in the fallout, I was laid off from my job, leading to months of general aimlessness. I had no goals, no direction, and no confidence in a better life. Combine this with various disappointments and turnoffs from political figures through the years, and my journey against patriotism felt complete.

The Gallup survey reflects these sentiments in the public. Fifty-eight percent said they were very or extremely patriotic, with only 36% of Democrats versus 92% of Republicans. While some will use this to attack Democrats, the number is understandable to me. It was a 26-point drop with the election of President Trump, showing that our answers will differ with circumstances. And even Republicans aren’t immune to this as their numbers dipped during the Biden administration. Also, progressivism by nature pushes for change, so it’s natural for them to not hold an unqualified patriotism. Many will say there’s too much work to do to feel that way, and that patriotism blinds us from recognizing the problems and shortfalls of our nation.

Older generations also showed more patriotism, and this falls in line with my story. There hasn’t been a bolt of revelation turning me around. But time has spun a long thread of reflections. I’ve thought of America’s founding. Of its self-determination and drive for independence. Of the arduous road to equality this history inspired. Of America creating the first anti-slavery organization. Of the nation later vanquishing slavery, and spreading its ideals to Europe and beyond. Of saving the world two times this past century, and looking out for it today. We have lit the world with abundance and influence that keep darker forces at bay. Take America out of the equation, and we would likely weep for where the world ended up.

But such praises for America should come with a full acknowledgement of its shortcomings. America has a long, tiring list of abuses and inconsiderations of people. The adoption and expansion of slavery. The maintenance of Jim Crow. The terrors of the KKK. Eugenics. The displacement of Native Americans in the 19^th century, and Japanese interment camps in the 20^th. And all the times that leaders have ignored the Bill of Rights, from John Adams to Woodrow Wilson to Joseph McCarthy. The history of harms goes on and on, from unsettling laws to foreign policy failures. All generations have failed to honor the dignity of the American people and others, and they will continue to do so. There is no escaping human behavior.

But the failures don’t overshadow the reasons for hope in America. Coleman Hughes identified this in a piece that argues for progressives to see the success in America for the people they seek to help. Women, minorities, and poor people have more abundance and protections here than most in the world, and America is still by far the most desired destination of immigrants. We shouldn’t compare ourselves to a utopian paradise, but rather to the messy reality of humanity. Yes, we have a long way to go, but we likely always will. And the values developed through 250 years of pain and growth provide an anchor for us that many nations won’t have. Despite all the bad, we have righteous aims that are worthy of our support.

Another memory comes to mind as I’ve made such conclusions. Visiting Germany in high school, I toured the Dachau concentration camp. I spent two hours at a slow pace passing prisoner barracks and fields with the ghosts of murder and torture. I couldn’t bring myself to the gas chambers and ovens, and I met with my class later in the museum. Hundreds of pictures showed people under medical experiments with looks of profound sadness. But toward the end, a photo caught my eye. Prisoners were at the front gates with American soldiers behind them. An American flag hung on a pole, and everyone looked happy. It was the only photo where anyone smiled, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I felt a joy and awe from a moment that sprang from ashes of despair more than 50 years earlier. It was the best of what America has been.

The experiences of adulthood made me forget this hope for a long time, but reflection has brought me back to it. America saved them, the world, and its influence continues to hold us in a better place today. I haven’t forgotten my devotion to faith, still seeing myself as an alien who keeps a distance from undying, worldly loyalties. But I can cling to this with one hand while in the other holding a somber recognition of the heroic, inspiring ideals this nation has held and defended. Far from perfect, but the best that’s going on for humanity. Let us now celebrate 250 years in the messy, imperfect hope that is the United States of America.

Scrolling through conservative media, you’re bound to see her face. People have posted the meme for years as a caricature of the Left. Enraged. Unreasonable. A snowflake too sensitive to other opinions. We don’t know her name, but her continual presence made me start to wonder: Who is she? And what set her off? Who was she talking to, and what was the discussion? It turns out, she was more civil than the meme suggests, and the camera only caught an appearance of anger. And the argument, while controversial, wasn’t without sources. But a political tribe weaponized her image to breed contempt for progressives, having no regard for the person or her words.

In a discussion with a media team from Info Wars, the protestor claimed that a high percentage of women experience rape. The rally in 2016 was a protest against then primary candidate Donald Trump, and the rate she shared was one in three. The stat wasn’t even central to the point she was making, but claiming it was enough to carve her image into internet infamy. The footage of the chat largely vanished when Youtube banned Info Wars content the following year, but the internet continued to post the meme. The world offered her no chance to defend the opinion; only a silence that left us with a stereotype of people left-of-center.

She might have embellished the rate from studies, but sources show similar numbers. It’s possible, for example, that she was aware of interviews on college campuses finding one in five women experiencing sexual assault. Like all political polling, the science for accuracy was controversial. What constitutes assault? How will people answer to phrasing A versus B? Is a question loaded, prompting a specific answer? Experts will argue over the approaches, but it’s possible the number is even higher than one in five, given the pain of such experiences. So saying that it’s one in three wasn’t insane. It may well be wrong, but the jury is still out.

I can’t offer more insights on these studies, but they make me think of the biases people bring to the arguments. Fans of Info Wars might have held a heavy incentive to disbelieve a high percentage. For supporters of Donald Trump—a man already under allegations for mistreating women—such a rate might feel like validation of the accusations. On the protestors’ side though, higher numbers of victims would add weight to public support. If the number was instead more like one in twenty, there would be less incentive for leaders to act. Indeed, the Obama administration may not have investigated campus assaults if not for the one in five stat. Each side has their reasons to not listen, both then and now.

But the full context of the situation that created the meme deserves attention for the protestor’s sake. She believed that 33% of women experience rape. She joined a protest against a presidential candidate suspected of misogyny, only for a team from Info Wars to show up. They were looking for an argument, and their fans were prone to deny the acts she was fighting against. Isn’t it reasonable to understand how someone might become upset? And the camera only captured, at most, a flash of anger in the midst of her measured comments. But it was enough to seal her fate for online viewers scoffing at high rates of sexual assault.

The internet jumped on the chance to forge the meme. The Alex Jones Channel uploaded the video “Trump Supporters Shut Down Protestors”, and within a day, anonymous users on Reddit coined the name “Ficki Fiona”. “Ficki” is German slang for the f-bomb, and the cruel, catchy name labeled her with the stat she had shared. From there, platforms condemned her as TRIGGERED with mocking headlines like “Angry feminist.” And through the years, the legend grew. The image has been cycled and recycled in thumbnails for a decade now. And all of this for a stat that may or may not be accurate.

Ironically, if her image had appeared less online, I wouldn’t have thought about her. I would have passively accepted the message that the Left is crazy, dangerous, or not worth my time. Someone like Fiona brought nothing of value, or so it seemed. Just another psychopath screaming at a Trump event. I would have been one of millions holding a passive contempt for a stranger. Never seeking the source of her feelings. Never asking questions on what brought her to that charged moment. Never appreciating the context that could drive any of us into an argument. I would have just doom scrolled to the next Youtube clip without a thought or care for the person dubbed Fiona.

Conservatives will argue for the need to use such memes to persuade the public of progressive threats. Some would say the image of anger still represents people in our institutions who practice illiberalism. That cancel culture is omnipresent in universities and media, raising intolerance and silencing speech. Using this imagery is a necessary tool then to rally support against suppression. But even if all true, we shouldn’t exploit someone’s picture for political messaging. For all the disagreements we’d have, to be callous with someone’s image for the cause of culture wars is inconsiderate. It raises contempt in the world while making a lifetime of pain and embarrassment for someone else. It’s wrong, and there are other ways of persuasion for your cause.

So wherever Fiona ended up, I hope she is doing okay. I think about the struggles from being a famous, nameless internet meme. Did it interfere with her life? Does it still? Did it hurt her job prospects, or tear apart relationships? Maybe she doesn’t have a care of it at all, or maybe it was a disaster. But in any case, the world owes a recognition of her opinion. An effort to take it seriously, even in disagreement. That is the aim of this blog, with Info Wars and the internet never giving her that chance. It made for a dismissal that none of us should accept. Her face is still everywhere, but her words are almost nowhere.