There’s something deeply heartbreaking — and enraging — about watching the most vulnerable among us be failed time and again while the powerful play God.
We are told to trust the system. That it’s there to protect us, guide us, provide for us. But how can we trust a system that profits from our pain? That exploits our health and labor, criminalizes our trauma, and rewards those who perpetuate harm?
Every day in this country, we witness unchecked corporate power — especially in the healthcare and pharmaceutical industries — manipulating legislation through lobbying and campaign contributions. Meanwhile, families go bankrupt trying to pay for insulin. Children are denied life-saving therapies. Survivors are left to navigate impossible bureaucracies just to stay afloat.
And who holds the system accountable?
We blame the addict, not the trauma. We punish the shoplifter, not the poverty. We incarcerate the protester, not the corrupt politician.
When someone lashes out against the system, it’s often labeled “criminal,” “terroristic,” “evil.” But what if it’s reactive abuse — a term that many survivors of interpersonal trauma understand all too well? It doesn’t excuse the harm, but it explains the rage. The desperation. The moment when someone stops begging for mercy and starts fighting back against a system that has already written them off.
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We live in a country where a felon has been elected President and is threatening to strip people of their citizenship and segregate those labeled “mentally unwell.” Where people are being primed for segregation in the name of “wellness.” Where the narrative has shifted from freedom to fear — and the most vulnerable are first on the chopping block.
So what do we expect people to do?
Some turn to alcohol or drugs to escape. Others to gangs to survive. Some commit blue collar crimes out of necessity. And even the idealists who enter politics with hope often face a brutal choice: play the game or lose everything.
This isn’t just about broken individuals. It’s about a broken system. And it’s time we start naming that.
I don’t condone violence. But I understand what it means to be pushed to your breaking point. To scream into the void and wonder if anyone will ever hear you. To be failed again and again while the powerful play God.
Because at the end of the day, we are not just watching a system fail — we are watching it abuse.
And it’s time to stop gaslighting people into thinking their reactions are the problem, when the real issue is the violence built into the very structure of our society.
Do not give Luigi Mangione the death penalty.
Don’t let the same system that failed him now pretend to be righteous in killing him.
Death is not justice. It is state-sanctioned revenge. And revenge will never fix what is broken.
April 18, 2025