Red Revolution Tales

Around April, I had been scrolling through Tinder as it became one of my favorite past-times while on the phone with my friend Alex when I came across a profile with a cute boy who we’ll call Cosmo. I swiped right, mostly for his cute dog in his last picture, and immediately the “It’s a match!” screen showed up. His first message was bold and pretty funny, so even though I mostly used tinder for fun and as a confidence boost, I decided he was worthy of a response. We’d been speaking for a few weeks and I noticed that some of the phrases he used were off and other times out of place. He then told me that he was Romanian and in the country for six months to be with his grandma and cousin who were urging him to try and get residency in the states, but he preferred his homeland. I told him about my activism and how much I enjoyed politics and advocacy, he told me that his friends and him love to protest and rally in Romania as well. We met after a couple of months after we matched in Broo

Last Friday noon, on my quiet suburban island known to many as the backyard of New York City, Long Island, an overcast of doom fell upon the mansions and slums that decorate this God forsaken place. Some call this thing a cloud of doom, others call it Mr. President. And on this Friday, this thing came to the Suffolk County Community College campus at Brentwood and said to his audience full of officers from the local Suffolk County precincts to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, that when they deal with suspects of crimes that they “shouldn’t be too nice” and to be “rough” when they’re forcing a human “into the back of the paddywagon”. What doesn’t shock me but deeply struck a nerve is knowing that this happened where I call home, that when these comments were made, a wave of cheers vibrated through the rally. These officers who already abuse, murder, harass, and torture communities of color are emboldened by their president who justifies their hate. Their Commander-in-Chie