The Rights They Rage For

They will march for the right
to carry machines made for war
through the cereal aisle.
They will scream for the right
to spit slurs like gospel,
to dehumanize with microphones
and call it debate.

They will die on the hill
of their own unkindness—
and call it freedom.

But ask them
for insulin.
For therapy.
For a safe place to bleed
without fear of bankruptcy.

And suddenly—
there’s no budget.
No room.
No handouts.
No help.

They will burn books
before they build clinics.
Ban drag shows
before they ban bullets.
They will defend your right
to own a dozen guns
but not your right
to exist in the body that feels like home.

They will say
speech is sacred—
unless you are begging
for your life
in a language
they don’t speak.

They will protect the fetus
and forget the child.
They will praise the flag
while stepping over the unhoused.
They will vote for men
who promise to punish,
never to heal.

This is not about liberty.
It never was.

It’s about power.
And who they believe deserves it.

And if you are Black,
or queer,
or trans,
or poor,
or disabled,
or asking simply not to be shot today—
they will remind you,
with their votes
and their silence
and their screams:
you are not the America
they’re trying to save.