MAGA is a sinking ship

My life changed forever on April 5, 2025. And I don’t mean that in a dramatic way, it actually did. Everything shifted. The day started like every day had since November of the year before, when it became clear that Trump had won the election.

I woke up feeling heavy. Not just tired, drained. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. Every day felt like I was trapped on a train heading straight into a wall, and no one knew how the brakes worked.

That morning, I left the house and drove into downtown San Diego to drop my daughter off at an event she was attending. I figured I’d grab a coffee, maybe sit in the car and scroll my phone while I waited. I wasn’t planning to do anything else. I was just too exhausted.

But as I walked toward the coffee shop, I saw people streaming past with signs. Homemade posters. Faces that looked determined, tired, angry, scared, all of it. And something in me stirred. So I followed them.

I ended up in the middle of thousands of strangers crowded into Civic Center Plaza for the “Hands Off” protest. People were chanting, marching, and sharing the same kind of fear and heartbreak I had been carrying for months. It was the first protest I went to in a very long time. And it cracked something open in me that I didn’t even know existed.

The truth is, I had been in a dark place for months at that point. I didn’t have hope. We were deep into the chaos of Trump’s second term. The difference was that this time, he had unchecked power. Control of the House, the Senate, and the Supreme Court. All branches of government were inexplicably devoted to an authoritarian who called all the shots. The abuses of power were unregulated and constant. Trump was dismantling our country piece by piece and day by day.

I knew our country and the world were heading into a deeply dark place, and I had no hope that it could be stopped.

So when I stumbled into that protest, I didn’t expect to feel anything. But I actually cried. I saw the signs and the faces and realized for the first time in months that I wasn’t alone. People of all ages and backgrounds had come together because they still believed we could fix this. I talked to so many people that day. They shared stories about what Trump’s second rise was doing to them and to the people they loved. And right then, I started to get my footing back. I felt a shift.

I remember taking a photo of a man holding a sign that said, “When your grandchildren ask what side of history you were on today, will you be proud of what you tell them?” I went home and shared it on my Facebook page. Then I closed the app. I didn’t think anyone would even see it. I hadn’t posted in months. But a few days later, someone messaged me and said, “Did you see your photo? It’s everywhere.” I looked. It had over 1.2 million views, and I hadn’t even realized it.

That was the moment I remembered I had a platform and a voice. I needed to be able to tell my future grandchildren that I hadn’t just watched all of this happen in silence. That I had spoken up. That I had done something, anything. I needed them to know I tried. Later that day, I decided to make this my full-time work. I knew I could use my voice, my perspective, my experience, both as a travel writer and with decades of online storytelling and community building, to reach people. To remind them they weren’t alone. And to push back against the lies and cruelty taking hold again. I didn’t have a plan. But I had a purpose. And that was enough to get me started.

And here we are. Six months later. Over 180 days of writing about the news and the fascist takeover of our country. Every single night, I sit down and write about what’s happening, not just the headlines, but the undercurrents, the stories that slip through the cracks and still impact millions of us. I try to cover what matters most. And I’ll be honest, that’s one of the hardest parts. Because when this much bad is happening every day, it’s not always clear which disaster to focus on. Some nights I’m overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cruelty and corruption. The Trump administration unleashes chaos at a pace that feels designed to exhaust us. But I stay with it. I try to strip away the noise, the spin, the gaslighting, and bring you the truth. The kind that helps us feel less alone. The kind that reminds us we’re not imagining it, this really is happening, and we have every right to be outraged. Every post is my small act of resistance.

And in 2026, my resistance is aimed at one outcome: a Congress that stops this. I am not focused on polls or odds or which chamber people say is possible. We need to win both chambers, and that is what we should be working towards. We need leaders who can do the job, tell the truth, and are accountable to the people they serve. The focus now is to get them elected and have a Congress that actually checks and balances and moves us away from Trumpism. A Congress that puts the guardrails back on power.

I’m not covering the news tonight. It’ll still be there tomorrow. The chaos doesn’t pause for holidays. Today isn’t about responding to what they’re doing. Today is about deciding who we are and what we’re willing to do. We have one shot to use this year, or it will use us. I’m not wasting the first day of 2026 on a breakdown of disaster. I’m using it to remind myself why I started, what we’re up against, and what it’s going to take to win. Because this is the year we end it. Not with wishes or speeches or middle-of-the-road pleas for unity, but by doing the hard, boring, unglamorous work of taking back power.

This is not politics as usual. We are having a simple debate between party lines, and we need to remember that in the coming year. We are dealing with a counter movement that has no interest in democracy. MAGA is not about policy. It’s not about taxes or trade or the border. It’s about dominance. It’s about using fear to control people. It’s about breaking institutions so they can never hold the powerful accountable again. If the Republican Party wants a future in this country, they need to cut MAGA loose. Completely. No more quiet nods to white supremacy. No more policy platforms shaped by conspiracy theories. No more “both sides” language to soften what this really is. Either they reject this movement, or they go down with it. That is the message we need to send to the Republican Party. They are on a sinking ship, and we are not sending rafts to save them.

Because what Trump has done isn’t some clever political strategy. It’s textbook authoritarianism. People forget that Hitler was elected. That fascists often rise legally, slowly, while the public tells itself it’s not that bad. Trump never stopped campaigning. He never stopped lying. He never stopped building a parallel narrative to reality where he was always the victim and the rest of us were the threat. That’s how this works. Not with tanks in the street. But with erosion. With propaganda. With lawyers and judges and loopholes and loyalists willing to look the other way. He broke the system by using it. And if we don’t respond with the same level of relentless effort, in 2026, we won’t have a 2027 to build back from.

This is the year we stop being shocked. This is the year we get serious. This is the year we show up like we mean it. No more waiting for someone else to fix it. Let’s use 2026 like everything depends on it, because it does.

Here’s what I’m doing right now to reach more people, so that they, too, know what’s really happening to our country ahead of the midterms. I’m not doing it alone. Because of your support through paid subscriptions, I’ve been able to hire a video editor. Starting now, each day will include both a video and a written post. I’m also building a full resource guide: a living, growing hub of fact-based independent voices, evidence-driven medical experts, and podcasts rooted in truth. A place with trusted sources, actionable steps, and shortcuts to help you stay informed, organized, and empowered in the resistance. It’s taking longer than I expected because I want it done right. But thanks to you, I have the time and space to build something that lasts. This is my full-time work now. I’ve committed to showing up here every night for the next three years, because for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like we’re spinning our wheels. We’re building something real. And it’s working. We’re just getting started. Our resistance is growing. And I’m so grateful you’re in it with me.

And today, I want to tell you what we’re calling this movement. It’s rooted in the one thing I’ve never lost, not even in the darkest moments. Not in 2020. Not after the insurrection. Not after Trump’s return. I never lost hope for this country. That hope is what fuels everything I write, everything I fight for, and everything we’re building together.

We’re calling it “Hope for America”.

This movement started with hope, and it’s growing because of you.

I’ll see you tomorrow,
Heather

P.S. If you’ve made it this far, chances are we see things the same way. You can make a difference right now by subscribing to my Substack. There is a free option and the option to help me reach a wider audience with a $5/month paid subscription. Your support allows me to cover more ground and keep telling the truth about the lies and destruction unfolding in our country.