Back in December, I commended my NYS rep online for calling for a ceasefire, and got trolled. I responded to the comment, and we went back and forth a few times. I was sick to my stomach for a couple of days over it. I was afraid to go online because my notifications no longer guaranteed good news. Every aspect of it felt terrible.

After that encounter, I came across the advice never to engage with trolls. I’m sure I’ve heard it before and forgot. I have a reputation for doing that. But since I had that recent experience, the advice imprinted this time.

When I got trolled again yesterday, I didn’t respond. Not reacting felt as good as the last experience felt bad.

That afternoon, I went to a protest for Palestine. I finally, finally found my people, and as a result, have attended two protests and an event (The Radical History of Black, Palestinian, South African, and Jewish Solidarity from the 1940s to Today) in a three day period. I’ll figure out the sustainability of my involvement later. For now, I needed an inoculation against the loneliness I’ve been feeling.

The second protest I attended is one that occurs weekly. This was my first time showing up. As we stood with our signs and flags, a police SUV came flying past us, lights flashing, sirens screaming. I immediately reacted with anger. I hate sirens on a visceral level. The guy next to me said calmly, “Oh, yeah, they do that.”

They WHAT? Yes. Police officers regularly drove around the block, speeding up with their lights and sirens blazing when they came past us, trying to drown out our free speech. After that first time, I just ignored it, but it’s kind of appalling.

It occurred to me that what we are fighting for is so big that if our dreams came true, there would BE no police, and maybe on some deep level, they know that.

In the meantime, instead of keeping us safe or keeping the peace or whatever the hell they ought to have been doing, they kept driving past us having the police cruiser version of a toddler’s temper tantrum.

I felt embarrassed for them. It also occurred to me that if they were trolling us, they weren’t bothering anyone else, so at least there was some redeeming value in it.

All that trolling in one day was more than I’ve experienced in my entire life. In a way it felt good because when people troll you it’s because they feel threatened, and that means what you’re doing may actually result in Big Change.

It’s a hopeful moment, and also an incredibly discouraging one. One speaker at the event on Monday said “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice” isn’t true. Another speaker said he had connections in D.C. and the establishment is freaking out. Even during the Vietnam War, there wasn’t this level of activism around a foreign policy issue. The cracks are showing, he said.

It’s hard to see any meaningful change in the world, and in fact, the news keeps getting worse. Yesterday I watched the U.S. ambassador to the U.N. contribute the sole vote against a ceasefire resolution, exercising the U.S.’ veto power. Other countries expressed that while the resolution wasn’t perfect, the issue is so pressing, so important, that it was imperative to vote yes.In the face of an uncertain future, I’m expressing my love for my kids more and more. I’m reminded on a daily basis about the many Palestinians who have lost their families in horrific ways and are no longer able to hold each other or tell their family members they love them. And the Palestinian struggle is just one out of many. I may have enough heart to hold it all, but I don’t have enough eyes, ears, and hands to act.

I’m reminded of the body of Christ. I’m not supposed to be all the body parts. Truthfully, if I try to hold all the pain and injustice of the world in my body, my heart will break. It’s already breaking. That’s why this is a collective effort. I just have to trust I’m doing my part.