I read a story recently that’s still sitting heavy in my chest. It was from Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed – a book that offers advice through real, raw letters. In one of the stories, she talks about working with girls in a youth program. Girls who came from pain. Abuse. Neglect. The kinds of homes that break spirits before high school even starts.
She was there to guide them, to encourage them to graduate, to not get pregnant, to avoid jail. To just make it.
She gained their trust.
They opened up.
And they told her about the horrors happening at home.
So she did what anyone with a heart would do, she reported it. Again. And again. And again. Hoping someone would step in.
But nothing changed.
Eventually, she asked why.
And the answer?
“There’s no budget for them.”
They were too old. Too overlooked. Too inconvenient.
So she stopped saying “it’s going to get better” and started saying, “you have to survive this.”
That broke me.
And then I remembered Trump’s damn military parade.
***
Millions of Dollars for a Party. But No Money to Protect Abused Girls.
Trump spent millions of taxpayer dollars on a self-congratulatory military parade. Planes in the sky. Tanks in the street. Flags waving. His name front and center.
Meanwhile, girls like the ones in that story? No resources.
Meanwhile, survivors of assault? Told to move on.
Meanwhile, social workers scream into the void with broken systems and no backup.
The same government that says there’s no room in prisons for rapists and traffickers suddenly finds the time and money to build detention centers in 8 days.
The same government that claims there’s no budget to house veterans or fix foster care throws millions at parties, jets, and political theater.
So don’t tell me it’s about what we can’t do.
It’s about what we choose not to do.
***
“If They Wanted To, They Would.”
They would fix the system.
They would protect children.
They would lock up violent predators and leave the non-violent alone.
They would house the unhoused.
They would help those girls.
But they don’t want to.
Because it doesn’t benefit them.
Because protecting the vulnerable doesn’t score political points.
Because there’s no profit in healing.
Because there are people in power who want to keep things broken.
***
But I’m Still Here. Still Mad. Still Writing.
Sometimes it feels pointless. Like nothing will ever change. Like the system is too corrupt, too far gone.
But then I think of those girls again.
And I remember that maybe I’m not here to fix everything.
Maybe I’m just here to witness what’s wrong.
To refuse to normalize it.
To cry for the kids no one cried for.
To scream when it’s easier to scroll.
Maybe that’s the point.