It’s not about me.

Technically, I’m fine. I have degrees, credentials, a roof, a stubborn streak.
I’ve built a life that gives me a certain insulation from the direct blows.
At least the first few rounds.

If I wanted, I could tell myself this doesn’t affect me.
But it does.
And more importantly, it’s not about me.

It’s about watching due process fade into something performative.
A checklist (ignored), a posture, an almost-gesture.

It’s about habeas corpus being treated like a mere relic, not the foundation of a democracy.

I teach ethics to professionals.
CPAs, lawyers, people with “fiduciary duties”and public trust built into their roles.
Lately, this feels less like education and more like archaeological preservation.
I’m just rambling on about the shape of what used to be.

I think about my daughter, living her life, both of us hoping (I assume) for her to have agency. 
Over her life, her voice, her body. 
I didn't realize how much I was taking for granted.

I think about the generation before mine. 
A generation that had to earn all of those things and who told stories about how hard it was to win them.
And then some of them just handed their vote to the man burning it all to the ground.

Some of them did this three times.

I can’t make sense of it. I don’t pretend to.
But I carry the weight of it—of what’s being lost, and how quietly.
Not with bangs or headlines, but with shrugs and silence.
With people deciding it's not their problem (until it is).

Some moments it feels like betrayal.
Other moments it feels like grief.
Most moments it feels like both.

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Habeas corpus: Latin for "you shall have the body," a legal principle that protects against unlawful detention by requiring that a person held in custody be brought before a court to determine if their detention is lawful. It's considered a fundamental safeguard of individual liberty against arbitrary state action.