Author’s note:
The following post is only my perspective—nothing more than my read, my instinct, my heart tugging at something it couldn’t ignore.
I don’t know Sage. I don’t know her story. I don’t know her truth. I’m not speaking for her. I’m speaking from the ache I felt watching her face while someone else told the world who she was. This piece comes from that place— not certainty, but compassion.

Sage Blair at the State of the Union— Did you see her face?

He (Trump) used her.
He called her out.
He made her a pawn.

Did you SEE HER FACE?

My heart hurts for that poor girl.

Here’s the context:

In 8th grade, she began experiencing gender confusion, which her grandmother–turned–adopted mother, Michele Blair, believes was influenced by peers. Michele claims that once Sage reached high school:
“all the kids were bi and trans and emo and gay, and, and, and goth.”
That alone tells you this story is being filtered through exaggeration.
Surely not all the kids were “bad influences.” That’s not how reality works.

When Sage got to high school, school officials and counselors started a social transition without informing her parents. They called her Draco and used he/him pronouns. Kind of the same way teachers ask every student what they want to be called at the start of a school year.
To me? That’s what this was.

Sage went to the school and asked for that.
Why? Because she felt safe there in a way she did not feel safe at home.

Her parents claim they weren’t told about the preferred name or pronouns, and that may be true. It’s also extremely likely Sage said something like,
“Please don’t tell my parents.”
So the school didn’t.

But here’s what I cannot swallow:
Her parents had no idea she had ever struggled with gender before this.
No awareness?
None?
…I don’t buy it.

Kids don’t take their very first identity-confusion conversation to a school counselor unless they’ve already tried —and failed— to be heard at home.

A child does that when they are desperate.

Two weeks into school, Sage reportedly ran away. During that time, she was allegedly trafficked and abused by men and rescued nine days later. Her mother now claims that if the school had told her about the name “Draco” or the pronouns, “NONE of this would have happened.”

That’s the right-wing narrative.
There is more to it… And yes—you can research it. But most of what you’ll find is extremely biased and intentionally framed.

What makes more sense to me is this:
Once her parents found out she was going by Draco and he/him at school, they had a huge problem with it.
And one can only imagine the mental turmoil this child was in—turmoil intense enough that she ran away the minute she knew she would no longer be accepted.

But sure.
Let’s point fingers at the school for doing the one thing that made Sage feel like someone saw her.

Listen, no one is saying the school called a doctor and signed her up for hormone therapy behind anyone’s back. No one scheduled gender-affirming surgery after gym class.

They acknowledged a name.
They respected pronouns.
That’s it.

The “slippery slope to surgery” fear-mongering is just that—fear. A tactic used because it works on people who don’t know better.

Now… back to her face.

If you missed it, I’m talking about the State of the Union given by the President on February 24th:

"And here is one more opportunity to show common sense in government.

In the gallery tonight are Sage Blair and her mother, Michele. In 2021, Sage was 14 when school officials in Virginia sought to socially transition her to a new gender, treating her as a boy and hiding it from her parents. Hard to believe, isn’t it? Before long, a confused Sage ran away from home. After she was found in a horrific situation in Maryland, a left wing judge refused to return Sage to her parents because they did not immediately state that their daughter was their son. Sage was thrown into an all boys state home and suffered terribly for a long time. But today, all of that is behind them. Because Sage is a proud and wonderful young woman with a full ride scholarship to Liberty University. Sage and Michele , please stand up. And thank you for your great bravery.

And who can believe that we’re even speaking about things like this? 15 years ago, if somebody was up here and said that, they’d say, “what’s wrong with him?” But now we have to say it because it’s going on all over numerous states. They’re not even telling the parents. But surely we can all agree no state can be allowed to rip children from their parents’ arms and transition them to a new gender against the parents’ will. Who would believe that we’re even talking about it? We must ban it, and we must ban it immediately."

It’s not even about what he said.
It’s about the fact that he used her as an example.
He held her trauma up like a prop.

He victimized her. Again.
And she knew it.
You could see it.

If you were watching with your eyes open, you saw it too.

Go here.
Watch for yourself. I’m not asking for your opinion.
I’m telling you that if you don’t see it — you’re blind.

Here’s what I saw:

From the moment Sage stood up, she looked conflicted.
Uncomfortable. Exposed.
Worst of all…hurt.

They applauded her, and she touched her index finger to her thumb in a mock-style mini clap.
At one point, she rolled her eyes.
Her body stayed tight.
Her hands folded in front.
That is not nervousness. That is a child trying to disappear in plain sight.

Her body language and facial expressions do not lie. They’re silent but they scream. She shifts from accidentally expressing the truth: ““this is not my story,” straight into compliance.

…“But she was smiling.”
If anyone says that, you’ve clearly never seen the smile of
“I’m trying not to fall apart right now.”

•These four frames together tell a whole psychological arc:
1. bracing
2. masking
3. slipping
4. shutting down

The mini mock clap is not clapping. It’s bracing and an attempt to steady herself— not celebrating. Then the mask snaps into place and it almost looks like anger here and that is obvious with her quick eye roll. Her eyes are focused, jaw set, neck muscles engaged. For a second it looks like, “Are you kidding me right now?” Except I think there is more hurt than anything else and as the clip continues it becomes impossible to ignore.
Her expression shifts, her neck muscles softened after tension, eyes down, lips pressed tightly together. She stopped fighting her internal reaction because she feels like it’s pointless.

Her grandma-mom to the right?
First she looked proud—though it felt more like proud of herself.
Then she looked at Sage and her face changed a bit.
It shifted into that monitoring stare parents use when they know their child might break the narrative they’re trying to force.
It was the look of:
“I’m watching you. Don’t mess this up.”

Sage never looked at her to know she was under surveillance.
She didnt have to because she could feel it.

•Sage: She is doing that “I’ll play along because I’m supposed to” smile. The one kids do when they’ve been trained to make an adult look good. Her eyes aren’t engaged, her face isn’t soft, her body is rigid. There was jaw tightening, lip corners pulled inward, eyes lowering while the head stays facing forward. Classic signs of someone trying desparately not to cry. Multiple frames showSage slightly tilting her head downward while closing her eyes. She’s bracing. This iswhat being overwhelmed, being watched, feeling trapped and trying not to publicly disassociate looks like while enduring something emotionally unsafe. She is silently screaming, “I can’t fight this. I can’t contradict this. I just have to get through it.”

•Sage’s mom: She starts with the elated “Look at me! Look what I did! Look at us!” Sage’s mask starts to crack. Mom’s smile tightens— she’s now watching Sage instead of the speech. This is not a supportive look. This is surveillance.
This is "“Hold it together. Don’t you dare.” Her final smile isn’t warmth. It’s HER victory. It’s the relieved smile of someone who cares more about the narrative being upheld than the child beside her being okay.

On the other side of Sage was a man— tall, composed and important enough to be placed beside her, yet unable to lift his eyes toward her for more than a few seconds.
( I don’t know who he was. I’ve tried to look into it but I can’t find anything saying who he is.)

His expression?
It resembles guilt. Unease.
Like he knew Sage’s internal reality did not match the storyline being sold on national television. Like he was afraid she might shout the truth at any moment.

He looked down again and again and again. Only glancing at her occassionally with what looked like the quiet steady pressure of “Hold it together.”

When it was over he looked straight over to the mom and whatever guilt he might have carried, whatever conflict that might have been flickering beneath the surface, whatever truth he might’ve known but couldn’t hold… Gone. Vanished instantly with the approval of one look—one smile— from the mother. You can almost hear the sigh of relief.

•The man to the left is shown repeatedly looking down. This is not necessarily dominance—it’s conflict. Looking down shows inner conflict, suppressed emotion, unacknowledged shame, and wanting to distance themselves from what is being said. Furthermore, it looks like guilt. Something like he might just know more than he wants the world to know he knows. He avoids looking at her for the majority of the clip because he does the “safe” thing. Perhaps if he did look at her his own mask might slip. When he finally does look at her it’s not warm, it’s not supportive, it’s not regretful… it’s “Hold steady. Stay quiet. Don’t break.”

•When mom looks at him her expression looks like “we did it!” and once the man notices she’s proud, any evidence of guilt vanishes. He falls in line and Sage is beneath both of them in the hierarchy. His relief is almost felt because his performance was “successful.” This is someone who lets himself be controlled, because aligning with her is easier than aligning with Sage’s discomfort.

•Sage is the only one in the frame telling the truth—though I don’t think she even realized it— and everyone else is performing a role. Mom performs pride, the man performs loyalty to the narrative, but Sage’s face can’t fully join the performance.

Yes this is all speculation—

This is all my opinion.
But I am intuitive. I am empathetic. I am the mother of daughters and I know the face of “I’m not okay.”

If Sage is living in this kind of internal hell, I feel for her.
If Draco exists inside her —or as her— then I feel for him too.

I wish peace for Sage, if peace is what she needs.
I wish rebirth for Draco, if that’s who she is becoming.
I wish safety for the child inside her whose tears are still unshed.

Because whatever you believe about gender, politics, pronouns, or schools…
no child deserves to be weaponized.
And tonight, Sage was.

🗣️Talk To Me

Tell me what you saw.
You don’t have to agree with every part of this—but if you saw even a flicker of what I saw, I want to hear from you.
This isn’t about politics.
This is about a child who didn’t look okay.

I’m listening. 💛

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Memphis trips for my daughter’s ODP soccer team usually mean three days of soccer and one fun day squeezed in around it. For four years, our “fun day” has been the drive-thru safari. The kids feed llamas and camels out the car window, I laugh too hard, and it becomes a core memory every time.

But this year the safari was closed from storm damage, so I had to find something new. After scrolling “things to do in Memphis,” my eyes landed on the National Civil Rights Museum — the place I’d known about for years but somehow never gone to. Four years ago, my kids were younger. Four years ago, the world felt different. Now? They’re older… and frankly, the state of our country sucks. It was time

.

I worried they’d think “museum” meant boring, but they’re growing up in a home that talks about inclusiveness, injustice, and what’s happening right in front of our faces. They didn’t hesitate.

Walking into the museum felt like heartbreak. Every artifact was truth. Every display was a reminder of humans being treated like anything but—because of their skin color and nothing else.
Nothing else.

And writing about it now, during Black History Month, feels like the only right timing

.

The beginning of the exhibits walks you straight into the origin: people taken from their own countries, against their will, forced into slavery, while white Americans profited. You already know this.
(And if you don’t? Please go learn it— this museum is a good start.)

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Then comes the part that hits you in the throat: the cycle.
Rights granted, rights stripped.
Progress made, progress undone.
Freedom declared, freedom clawed back through loopholes and “laws” that were anything but just. Jim Crow didn’t appear out of nowhere—it was engineered.

You don’t need every legal case explained to understand the truth:
Black Americans fought for rights, won them, and then watched white America rewrite the rules to take them away for nearly a century.

And standing there, reading all of this laid out in black and white, what hit me wasn’t just the past… it was the pattern.
Injustice doesn’t end; it evolves.
Oppression doesn’t disappear; it shapeshifts.
It learns the culture, changes the vocabulary, picks a new shade of brown to fear and control.

The blueprint hasn’t changed one bit.
Only the target has.

And if you think this blueprint stayed in the past, look around.
You can see the pattern shifting again.

The same fear-mongering that once targeted Black Americans is now being aimed at immigrants—especially those of Hispanic and Latino descent. Everything from economic issues to “safety concerns.” It’s the same fear narrative dressed in new clothes. The same “othering.” The same political strategy of turning people into problems instead of protecting them as humans.

The language changed, the headlines changed, the faces changed… but the tactic didn’t.
Dehumanize. Distract. Divide.
Turn an entire group of people into a political pawn and convince the public they’re a “threat.”

It’s the same playbook with a different cover.

History doesn’t stop repeating just because we’ve rebranded the target.

And the wildest part?
More people see it this time.
More white people see it this time.
More of us are standing up than there ever were before.

That piece—that shift—is what gave me hope.

Because this museum wasn’t a history exhibit.
It was a warning.

Every quote from Ida B. Wells, Fannie Lou Hamer, Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King Jr.—all of them—could have been written today. If you slapped a 2026 timestamp on their words, nobody would blink.

Black History Month isn’t about nostalgia or a curated list of “important figures.”
It’s about recognizing when the same smoke starts rising again.

It’s about seeing who is being dehumanized now.
Who is being blamed now.
Who is being legislated against now.
Who is being turned into the political “threat” now.

Because history doesn’t repeat itself—people do.

And the only thing that ever stopped it the first time was people refusing to stay silent.

So if you take anything from this post, or from the words of the giants who came before us, let it be this:
Honor is action.
Silence is compliance.
And I refuse to let us sleepwalk our way into a rewritten past—not when the signs are this loud.

🗣️Talk To Me

Have you felt these parallels too — the way old patterns show up with new faces?
Did any part of this hit you in the gut, or make you rethink the headlines we’re seeing now?

Tell me your thoughts, your reactions, your lived experiences.
I want to hear from you.
I’m listening. 💛

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There’s a song by Macklemore and maybe you’ve heard it, but maybe you haven’t.

If you haven’t, go to your music streaming platform of choice and look up the song “Fucked Up” by Macklemore— right now.
Especially if you’re sitting here watching the chaos of this nation and going:
What. In. The. Actual. Fuck.

”What we said was gonna happen… is happening right now.”
That’s the lyric of this song that hits me right in the chest. The one that gives me literal chills. Every time I hear it.

It is a warning in the form of a song lyric. But it’s a warning that we already saw coming. The one where we are sitting here—right now— going,
“I told you so.”

You know the one.
The one where we were like,
“If re-elect this guy, we’re fucked.”

The one where we were sounding the alarm because we could feel the temperature rising. And the one where we were called dramatic, paranoid, hysterical, emotional, delusional…etc.,etc.,etc. for naming exactly:
WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN…
THAT . IS. HAPPENING.
RIGHT. NOW.

It’s not shocking, but it is shocking.

It isn’t shocking— not to the people who were paying attention and noticed the patterns… But regardless if we knew— there was hope that it wouldn’t happen.

And that’s exactly why it’s shocking.
Because we’re watching it thinking:
”Oh okay…so we really are just going to let this happen then?” …while it’s happening.

We’re not shocked that it is playing out the way it is, but we’re shocked at humanity— or lack their of— for letting it.

Maybe a better word to use is grief. Maybe we’re grief-ridden—not shocked— because we were told by everyone:
“Relax. That could never happen here.”
But it did. It is… Right now and right on schedule.

Now, I’m sitting here wondering… what is it going to take?
What has to happen to stop this?
What does the final straw have to look like?
What is the moment where someone finally says:
“Oh. Ohhh….
this IS what they meant all along?”

Because if THIS isn’t enough for people to wake up… then what the hell will be?
Because it’s not ICE shooting unarmed people.
It’s not the laws being re-written or ignored in real time.
It’s not open cruelty.
It’s not the targeted dehumanization.
(The list goes on and on).

Instead what’s happening is this:
Normalizing things we used to call unthinkable— with a quiet shrug every time one more line is crossed.

What does the breaking point have to be for the people who still look straight at the burning house and say,
“Well… maybe it’s not that bad,” while the flames spread?
As if fire puts itself out before englufing the entire structure.

It’s what makes it feel like we’re living in two different realities.
One reality the alarm is blaring, before the smoke turns into fire.
And the other consists of people wearing noise-canceling headphones calling us crazy because we can still hear it while they also pretend they don’t smell the smoke.

If what we’re watching right now isn’t “enough”… what will be?
That’s the part that shatters me— the indifference and the denial.
The part where people cling to defensiveness.
The part where people (try to) justify injustice.

So, I don’t know what the breaking point has to be but I do know this…
Every atrocity in history was allowed to grow because people decided to wait for a “more obvious” sign.

But if—and when— they suddenly see that sign… it’s already too late to pretend they didn’t know.
Because we told them so and—
What we said was going to happen… is happening right now.

🗣️Talk to Me

Do you remember trying to warn people?
Curious as to what it was you saw coming.
Curious what has happened that you called from the beginning.
Has anything actually surprised you— anything that is worse than you could have ever imagined?

What did people tell you?
Relax? Calm down? You’re “overreacting”?

Let’s talk about it!
We all need a space to unload where someone understands your frustration…
That space is here. With me.

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I’m not claiming to be open minded anymore.
I’m not— I have closed my mind completely..
I no longer am interested in there being “two sides” of every story.

I think I’m right and I think you’re wrong.
In fact— I know I’m right. And I know you’re wrong.
Devastatingly, disgustingly, and dangerously wrong.

You’re wrong.
You.
Are.
Wrong.

You look around and you see what’s happening.
We see the same things with our eyeballs.
But you don’t see anything with your heart.

People are being dehumanized.

That’s real.
Yet you explain how it isn’t that.
You make an excuse for their mistreatment because you can find a reason a human being should be treated as anything but.
Because to you— they’re not even human.

People are being victimized and marginalized.

That’s real.
Yet you explain that they aren’t as if they somehow deserve to be punished for existing because they have the wrong color of skin— specifically anything other than white.

.

Maybe it’s because they speak another language.
Or believe in a different god— or maybe they believe in no god.
Sometimes that rationale feels… understandable.

BECAUSE HOW IS THIS HAPPENING “UNDER GOD?”

You justify that hating them is right because—oh my god—they’re a man and they love another man.
You reason they are wrong and need to be held accountable for being a woman married to another woman.
As if the problem is love and not hate.

You call them murderers because they have abortions at all… sometimes even if it’s to save their own lives.
Because you’re pro-birth—not actually pro-life.

Meanwhile you look away from people killing people in the street in the name of “protecting America.”

Sometimes you don’t even see them as people.
But you actually do— You just call them “domestic terrorists” or “anti-American”
because they believe that standing up to an unmistakable overreach of power and dominance is the right thing to do.

You say this because they tell you to.
Because he tells you to.

Because you worship a false idol and call yourself a believer in Jesus Christ… in the name of Jesus Christ.

Because being in a cult makes you somehow feel like you belong.
And man, you just have to belong.
Don’t you?

Yet you label them outcasts.
Can give reasons why THEY don’t belong.
Because you do..

And you cry unfairness and discrimination when someone calls you what you are.

A racist.
A bigot.
A hateful and disgraceful excuse of a human being.

Why can’t you name that?
That part angers me.
I know that you are.
Everyone else does too.

You act like that offends you but you can watch mothers and fathers be taken away from their children while you’re screaming that it’s “fake news.”

Or maybe it’s just that you’re stupid.
So you don’t really know what those words mean.
Meanwhile you claim the educated are “snowflakes” marching in the street.

These aren’t my opinions.
These are facts.

I don’t care who you are.
I don’t care if you’re a preacher, a teacher, my cousin, or that you hold some political power.
I don’t care if we were once friends…
You’re trash.
I hate the way you hate.

I hate that you don’t even have enough courage to call it that.
Are you scared?
Of what?
What is the reason you hide from the label?
If you’re going to do it, you might as well wear it proud.

Just say you like the violence, the brutality, the rights being stripped away.
You like it because it makes something inside of you feel really big when you’re nothing but small.

It would all make sense then.
If you claimed what you are.
Maybe I could see it the way you do if you stood for what you believed.

Because it does make sense to me— the way you see it—when you acknowledge that part.
I wouldn’t even try to argue nor would I need to prove I’m right.

Enough of calling this red vs blue or left vs right.
Call it decent human beings vs evil minds.

And I won’t even ask you to change yours.
Changing your mind shows growth which you so clearly lack.
That would be unfair to assume that just anyone has that level of emotional intelligence or any intelligence at all.

So feel how you feel.
Think what you want.
Stand in the divide.
I hope it makes you proud.

But you can’t hide who you are from me.
I see you.

The ugliness drips off your soul and onto your skin.
The stench clings to you so much that I could smell you from across the room.

We disagree.
Don’t we?
Can we agree on that?

Stop being a coward.
Come out of the crowd.

Don’t hide your hate when you believe that is what “makes America great” (again).

🗣️Talk to Me

Shit is heavy in the world right now.
If you’re angry, like me, feel free to drop a comment or send a message to vent a little (or a lot).

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First— this is not a “political” stance.
Don’t come at me with the “I don’t talk politics” energy.
I don’t talk politics, either.
I talk about MORALITY and I care deeply about HUMANITY.

This is the problem I have with the whole “political divide” conversation happening right now.

This is not a political divide.
It’s not “political indifference.”
Hell, it’s not even political.

Divide? Yes.
Indifference? Yes.
But not because of red vs blue or left vs right.

This divide is about humanity.
Those who defend it,
and those who don’t.

And the truth is painfully simple:
Some of us believe humanity should extend to everyone. (Hi, it’s me.)
And others… just don’t.

I couldn’t care less if you’re a Republican and I’m not.
(Fun fact: I don’t label myself with any party and I’ve never been a straight-ticket voter.)

There are things I agree with on both sides,
and there are things I disagree with on both sides.
That’s exactly why I don’t fully label myself as a “Democrat” or a “Republican” or even a Demlican…or Republicrat.
(Okay, I made those two party titles up…)

But hear me, right now…
Don’t you dare assume that I’m contributing to some “political divide.”

That’s not what this is. This is NOT political.
Stop calling it that.
STFU with that framing.

What is happening is:
hate,
racism,
bigotry,
and all the grotesque rhetoric spilling out of the mouths of the people representing the Republican party right now.

That part is political only because they made it political.

And honestly…
It’s wild.
I don’t know how anyone identifies as a Republican right now when the face of the party is DJT.

But I also know this:
There ARE Republicans out there who don’t condone the hate.
I don’t have a problem with them.
You can’t help who your party elevates.
(Well… technically you could’ve, if you hadn’t voted for him. But that’s another conversation.)

My problem is with the people who proudly support hatred in the name of their party.
The ones who see cruelty and say,
“Yeah, that’s my guy.”

Those are the people I can’t stand with.
Those are the people I can’t stand at all.
Those are the people deepening the divide.

It’s not hard to understand.
It’s not complicated.
It’s not “politics.”

It’s humanity.
And whether or not you still believe in it.

Thanks for reading, and have a fantastic day.
(Unless you’re one of those people… in which case: yikes.)

🗣️Talk to me

If humanity and morality matter to you and you wanna scream about it…
I’m your girl! 🫶🏻

I will reply to every.single.one.of.you.
That’s a promise.

Wanna say something? Need to be seen?
I got you!

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