Donald Trump and Republicans continue to divide Americans with fear and Democrats cannot remain silent

Sunday Paper echo essay by Maria Shriver:  Beautiful essay!

Elon Musk went off the rails this week, but I’ve got to admit that I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I’ve been waiting for this moment.

That said, I can’t believe how embarrassing and depressing it was to watch the fighting that unfolded between him and Trump.

I know many people are laughing at their back-and-forth, but make no mistake: it’s serious when someone starts to unravel in the public square.

This president has somewhat normalized insane tweets—the kind people laugh at and share—but to me there is nothing funny about this...

That said, I can’t believe how embarrassing and depressing it was to watch the fighting that unfolded between Musk and Trump. I know many people are laughing at their back-and-forth, but make no mistake: it’s serious when someone starts to unravel in the public square.

"....but make no mistake: it’s serious when someone like Musk goes off in the public square and then the president jumps in."

This president has somewhat normalized insane tweets—the kind people laugh at and share—but to me there is nothing funny about this...between Musk and Trump. 

Governing is really serious business, especially at this moment. The economy is fragile. People are struggling as they try to make decisions for their families and their businesses. There are multiple wars going on. Chaos isn’t good for the business of running our country, and our leadership is chaotic right now. That hurts us at home and abroad.

While many are obsessing over this spectacle, fear is quietly taking over our lives. And for some, it’s not quiet at all.

Here in Los Angeles this weekend, fear is front and center as federal immigration agents clashed with hundreds of people protesting a recent series of raids in the city. 

So many of our country’s immigrants, our friends and neighbors, are living in daily fear that they or someone they love will be swept up in a raid and separated from their families. 

As of Saturday evening, the White House announced Donald Trump is ordering 2,000 National Guards to be deployed in Los Angeles County, which will undoubtedly stir up even more fear.

Fear seems to be everywhere I look. This week, it was another headline that really stopped me in my tracks. It said “Jews Are Afraid Right Now."

I stared at it for the longest time. Then I closed my eyes. I have so many friends who are Jewish and I wanted to take a moment to pray for each of them. In fact, I wanted to pray for everyone of Jewish faith.

I know many say thoughts and prayers do nothing, but I don’t agree. I know they’re not the only solution to our problems, but I do think they are essential parts of our toolbox. They’re by no means the only tools, but they are two important ones in my life. This I know to be true.

Another important action I believe in is condemning violence, like what we witnessed in Boulder and what happened to Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro. His op-ed after a targeted attack on his home and family (you can read it here in case you missed it) still resonates. It’s a call to each of us to rise up, call out hate, and tap into our better angels, because now is a time when we need to collectively do better and be better.

Together, we have to start using our voices to speak up instead of allowing fear to stop us from taking action. We have to let others know where we stand and what we believe. Jews are afraid, yes, and that’s wrong. It actually turns my stomach, fuels my anger, and breaks my heart. It also breaks my heart that people in Gaza continue to face death and starvation amid a terrifying war.

Fear is in every conversation I have. In fact, this week when I traveled to Cleveland for our forum on women’s health and research, fear came up several times in people’s questions.

People are often afraid to question doctors and advocate for themselves. 

But you often have to push for a second opinion. You always need to speak up in the doctor’s office and believe in your own instincts, because often times your life depends on it.

Speaking of one’s life last week, I posed a question about bravery and a reader responded with her own heartbreaking but powerful story, which you can read here. This is a headline that will stop you cold as well. In "This Is What Being Brave Means for Me," this Sunday Paper reader writes that after being a victim of assault, she is still fighting for justice—not just for herself, but for other women. That’s courage. That’s pushing through fear.

It’s also brave to tell the truth, as Molly Jong-Fast has done in her new memoir How to Lose Your Mother. In the book, she writes how she inherited a world of complexity from her famous mother, and finally decided to tell her side of the story. In doing so, she embraced her grief and found grace.

That’s what bravery looks like in real time. That’s what fear transformed into power can do.

The other night, two longtime friends (who just happen to be Jewish) came to dinner. We started talking about fear in our political dialogue, and somehow the topic turned to women. We started talking about how the fear women face isn’t just in health care or religion—it’s everywhere. That’s when my son Christopher spoke up in the conversation and said, “Men are scared too.”

“In fact, do you all know that the number one predictor of suicide today is just being a man?” he said.

Men are taking their lives in record numbers. They are lonelier than ever. They are losing jobs to AI. And when a man loses his provider role, he often spirals into depression, addiction, despair, and suicide. I listened as my beautiful, strong, tender-hearted son spoke about the challenges men face in today’s society. My heart cracked.

Jews are scared. Women feel afraid. Men are hurting. Gays are worried. Scientists and researchers are in panic mode. Journalists speak about the challenges our profession faces. Even CBS, the one-time “Tiffany Network of News,” is afraid to fight a lawsuit by a sitting president—so afraid that they’re discussing folding, much like another network already did. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

Fear is everywhere. The synagogues in my city look like armed military establishments. So do schools. People are afraid to walk down the street, live in our neighborhoods, or post on social media. What in God’s name is happening to us?

All the while, millions of podcasts and newsletters and TikTok accounts pop up daily, telling us how to draw boundaries with our parents, how to deal with toxic relationships, how to breathe, emotionally regulate, jump in cold plunges, dress to feel young, exercise to ward off aging, and build our brands so we can compete in this brand-obsessed society we are all players in.

My friends, that is not going to dissolve our fear. That is not going to ease our heartbreak, our pain, our fear of one another, our fear of retribution if we speak our minds.

So then what will?

Dare I suggest… love? 💖💙💛Dare I suggest compassion? 

Dare I suggest community? Dare I suggest friendship? Dare I suggest prioritizing our own healing so that we can step forward without taking out our fear, anger, or rage on one another?

Fear is going to back us further and further into our collective corners. Fear is going to make us silent at a time when our voices are our most powerful weapons. Fear is paralyzing.

I’ve felt its effects in my life. I’m not proud to say it, but there have been times in my own life when my fear got the better of me. When I didn’t act. Didn’t use my voice.

But over time I found that every time I was scared and acted anyway, I gained strength. I gained courage. I found my footing—often on behalf of others, then eventually on behalf of myself. I gained courage by watching others. I gained strength by feeling their friendship, their love, and their support.

Love is expensive. Courage comes from recognizing our fear and then using our voices anyway. It comes from reaching out anyway and standing with others who may be afraid in order to ease their fear.

Standing with one group doesn’t mean you can’t stand with another one. People who stand with Jews can stand with Palestinians who are afraid for their lives. Women can stand with men. And vice versa.

My circle is broad and diverse. I want to be able to stand with men and women, with the LGBTQIA* community, and with Jews and Black Americans. I have friends who immigrated here from Ukraine, from Russia, from Iran, from Israel and Palestine. I’m a Catholic who has friends from different faiths.

The Pope inspires me, and so do my other fellow Catholics including Father James Martin, Father Richard Rohr, Father Greg Boyle, and Sister Joan Chittister. But so too do Rabbi Steve Leder, Pastor Ed Bacon, and Pastor Sarah Jakes Roberts and Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde.

My father, Sargent Shriver, Jr. (1915-2011), was an ardent Catholic, was the first person who spoke to me about the dangers of Hitler and the power of Jesus Christ’s message of love, forgiveness and peace.

My parents introduced me to the Berrigan brothers, who spoke out fiercely against the war; Dorothy Day, who founded the Catholic Worker Movement and spoke out against poverty; Cesar Chavez, who fought the establishment for workers’ rights; Rosa Parks, who said, “No, I will not get off the bus”; Fred Guttenberg, who has turned his own pain into purpose by speaking out against gun violence, hoping to spare another parent what he and his family have gone through. The list goes on.

These were the days before social media could scare you into a corner. Before the days when the leader of the free world called people derogatory nicknames in the public square.

Maybe it’s time for us all to look back and remind ourselves that there have been many fearless people throughout the ages who used their voices to stand up and stand alongside their neighbors—and often total strangers. Human beings who felt afraid due to their faith, the color of their skin, or their gender, but who spoke up anyway.

There will always be people who are afraid. May we believe there will also always be people needed who will stand up straight alongside them. Otherwise, fear will win, and we will all lose everything worth caring about.

That’s what this moment is asking of us: to recognize our fear, and the fear of our fellow humans, and turn toward them instead of away.

Perhaps turning towards one another looks like this:
T.U.R.N.

• Talk - Have one honest conversation this week with someone who might be afraid.
• Unite - Stand with at least one group or person facing fear (even if it's outside your usual circle).
• Reach out - Contact a friend, neighbor, or community member who might feel isolated.
• Name it - Speak up against hate or fear-mongering when you see it, even in small ways.

May we rise up collectively in friendship, in love, and in community. This moment demands that of us. There’s no doubt about that.

*lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, and asexual