Last week, something ignited feelings that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. Now, in fairness, I’m immersed in writing a vigilante story, preoccupying many of my thoughts. Perhaps that exaggerated my rage. Regardless, I was incensed when I saw the unkind and awful things posted about Gus Walz, son of Vice-Presendential candidate Tim Walz.
I could have gone to jail if anyone had made those comments within earshot. I’m not sure I would have had the restraint required to avoid violence. I was ready to fistfight someone - anyone who was spewing that hate, including Ann Coulter herself. And (in the moment, at least) I was prepared to face the consequences.
After a few days of reflection, though, I’m curious, mortified, and troubled by my response. So, I thought I’d spend this week’s blog post parsing out my feelings on the matter. Why did I get so angry?
First, while I’m hopeful about the future of our country for the first time in a while, thanks to the renewed positive energy that’s emerged since Kamala Harris became the nominee, I’m still just so weary of the rhetoric and personal attacks. Not only do I fear for our democracy, our freedoms, and our national security, but I also don’t like bullies. Never have. And I will always stand up to them, no matter who they are. Attacking the loving, excited response of a teenager proud of his dad is not just stupid, but it’s completely unnecessary and has nothing to do with the issues at hand. You don’t like Tim Walz’s policies? OK, fine. Tell me why. I’d love to understand your concerns. I’m interested in discourse.
But you don’t like his son, whom you know nothing about? Shut up. You don’t like men showing love, affection, and emotion because it threatens your insecure version of masculinity? As a proud gay man, who cries in public often, who loves with my whole heart, I’d still destroy you in whatever pissing match you want to have.
And see, that right there bothers me, too. Why must I puff my chest out and boldly pronounce my dominance over my enemies? Why does that make me feel powerful? It’s concerning.
Know thyself is the first rule of counselor education. Daily, I’m still trying to understand myself.
Gus Walz’s demonstration of love for his father inspired me but also made me sad. I don’t know what it’s like to love a father in that way. I don’t know what it’s like to have the love of a father the way Gus Walz must feel, either. I don’t say that to have a pity party about it, but it’s just a fact.
My dad died when I was six. My memories are limited. I might see a medium sometime to try to connect with him. I might not.
Even though I’ve not felt that kind of love, I know genuine emotion when I see it. I love to feel. I chose a profession where I feel for a living and teach others how to do it. How not to be afraid of it. How to embrace all of the emotions because the first “Inside Out” film taught us joy cannot exist without sadness.
And maybe joy can’t exist without anger, either.
Gus Walz’s love for his father stirred something in me that goes beyond politics or social media drama. It touched a part of me that still yearns for a connection I never had, and it inspired me to continue seeking out the love and relationships that can fill that void—not with fists clenched, but with an open heart.
So, as I move forward, I want to channel this anger not into destructive action but into constructive reflection and growth. I want to be better for myself, those I care about, and the world I believe in. If joy can’t exist without sadness and anger without love, then perhaps the true power lies in understanding how to hold them all without letting any one of them define me.
Plus, I don’t look good in orange.
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