Roller...Atlanta

Well, it looks as if this moment has just begun. Here we go folks!

You might wonder what I’m referring to. I’m talking about the political shenanigans now unfolding here in Atlanta and beyond shenanigans that are not abstract but visceral and deeply destabilizing.

Atlanta has suddenly become a focal point in national tension. Fulton County’s election records have been seized by federal agents amid renewed scrutiny of ballots from the 2020 cycle, and rumors of increased ICE activity are circulating in the city. These developments feel less like procedural governance and more like a creeping pressure on democratic norms. 

This political moment is layered with a sense of dread that’s hard to shake. On one hand, the technical fear about ballot integrity and federal scrutiny grabs headlines, but on the other, there’s a more immediate, raw sense of existential threat fueled in part by what’s happening in Minneapolis.

In Minnesota, federal immigration agents have shot and killed civilians during enforcement operations, including the fatal shooting of Renee Good earlier in January and a second fatal shooting of ICU nurse Alex Pretti. These deaths have fueled protests nationally, including in Atlanta, where hundreds have taken to the streets to demand accountability and an end to what many see as unconstitutional federal overreach. 

I vacillate between a will to stay engaged and a desire to retreat entirely. But more than anything, there’s a profound sadness not random sadness, but the kind rooted in the ongoing reality of hate, othering, and the relentless assertion that one group must be positioned over another to feel whole. The betrayals of truth, the distortions of history, and the persistent erasure of dignity are overwhelming. And yet, we’re still here, trying to hold onto daily life in a world that feels increasingly unstable.

This is not just my internal struggle it’s a collective one. People everywhere are wrestling with fear, grief, and the pull to disengage. And I pray earnestly for a peace that surpasses understanding.

At this point in my life, I feel deeply challenged. I have earned my place in the sun; I have worked hard, and now I long for rest real rest, the kind that isn’t interrupted by the anxieties of political turmoil. But the realities of American politics and of life itself insist on something different.

So here I remain, committed to observing, to probing beneath the surface, to thinking critically about where power is converging, and what it means for us all. I’ll continue this exploration here in this blog, and I’ll see you in the next entry.

Image: Priscilla DuPrez