This is who we are now

 This is a true story. And it is a heartbreaking one.

In our community, there was a young man who would stop by our Dem office for a cup of coffee. We keep a Keurig there and encourage visitors to help themselves. He took us up on it.

The first time he came in, he was wearing a MAGA hat. After a while, we told him he was welcome to the coffee, but he needed to take the hat off while he was in the office. He did.

Over time, we got to know him. We heard pieces of his story. He worked part-time as a dishwasher. He relied on disability funding, food assistance, and subsidized housing. And he voted for Trump.

When we had the chance to talk with him, he tried to explain why. He felt pressure from his friends. His father supported Trump. He felt boxed in, like the choice had already been made for him.

And then the consequences stopped being abstract.

He lost his job. He lost his housing assistance. His SNAP benefits were gone. He was homeless, sleeping in the park. For some, this may look like the FO part of FAFO. But when the person living it is vulnerable, isolated, and already hanging by a thread, it feels less like a lesson and more like a failure.

Who are we, as a society, if we allow the people with the fewest resources to lose access to the most basic necessities? Who decides that food, shelter, work, and medical care are only for those who can afford them? And then tell ourselves and others they should have known better?

He came into the office to say goodbye. He was heading west with a cousin. Their plan was to stay in a shelter, look for work, and hope they could eventually find a place to live. That was the plan: leave the community where he had come in for coffee and go looking for survival somewhere else.

When we stop caring for those who struggle to care for themselves, who are we?