I know you have lives to lead. Friends and parties to enjoy. Tests to take and grades to earn. Jobs to be hired for and retain. I know your values shine. Your empathy sings. I know you bemoan Donald, curse Donald, ridicule and laugh at Donald. I get all that. Great. But Gen Z, you are 70 million strong. 70 million. Where are you? First one, then another.

I tell myself you are preparing yourselves. You are meeting to get your arguments in order.  You will soon burst amorously onto the activist scene. Trump to savages education. Trump exiles students. Did Trump’s troops grab you? Grab a classmate? Grab someone across town? Trump commands whole universities to bend a thousand knees and some rush to do so. Are you at one of those? Are you applying to attend? Are you at work wondering who gets fired next? You must be minutes away from boiling over, mustn’t you?

As students still in high school or college or as young employees I tell myself you are meeting in corridors, dining halls, and even bus stations. I tell myself you are talking, talking, planning, planning. The lid will soon blow off. But will it? Where are you?

NYC, SF, DC, and countless towns from sea to muddy sea display white-haired demonstrators galore. Oldsters march forth on wobbly knees. They carry signs. They know their song well. Their homes are starting to reverberate with committed conversation like colleges ought to. Wonderful. But dear Gen Z, you are 70 million strong. 70 million. Your knees don’t wobble. What is in your minds? What is your song? Where are you?

I hear that today’s music revolves around everything but the real world. I wonder where the performers who earlier rejected Trump and still do in private have gone in song. I wonder why athletes are essentially silent too. Millions demonstrate which is great but not them and too few of you. I get that Trump may seem to you like a walking, talking, joke. After all, he is. But this is no laughing matter.

I get that the idea of collectively addressing reality has been seriously wounded, perhaps even amputated. I get that what arises from today’s cyber culture as a way to address danger is to avoid it or anonymously curse it, but certainly not forthrightly collectively confront it. I get that you feel mature and cool to personally rail at or joke about Donald but that you might feel tacky or just a bit out of place to collectively organize and demonstrate to stop him. Work on a resume. Keep a job. Get a new one. And, yes, I also get that responsibility for your diverse feelings don’t rest exclusively on your shoulders, but on me and mine too. After all, my generation birthed your parents and together we and they handed you a nasty world. But still. The sky is falling. Where are you?

I wonder what to write or to say to impact your thoughts and feelings. I wonder how to steal away fears you may have. If your getting out of bed in this world that we gave you is hard, I wonder how to sunder your slumber? I wonder if loneliness too is an issue? For guys, I hear that it is. And I wonder very much is your mood due to things we who went before you did or didn’t do? Do you fear, slumber or endure isolation—or is it something else entirely?

Am I being unduly harsh? Honestly, I hope that I am. I hope you about to demolish my worry with your determination. I expect it each day. If so, I will extremely happily apologize for my worry. And yes, I know some of you are already fighting or are preparing to fight Trumpism. But I also think that by now you all must be aware of what Trump and Co. are doing. 70 million strong. For any of you to not comprehend the news at this point seems impossible, unless it is willful. To not know that fascism is now banging at the door requires not wanting to know, not wanting to see and admit the danger—and I even get that. I too would rather things were different. But reality demands attention. To still not know that fascism is at our door, in our house, you would have to work to actively avoid the truth. I don’t get doing that. And if you do know the truth as I think everyone must at some level, well, then what?

Do you actively avoid today’s blatantly evident truths and then feel like nothing special is happening? It demands no special attention. Do you say, “don’t distract me with calls to resist. There is nothing to resist. It is no big deal.” Or do you perhaps say “I get what’s happening and I see what’s coming. I get that it is incredibly horrible but I also see that to resist it would waste my time. We’ll lose. So I have more important things to do. I have to to survive.” Or is it that you know what is happening, you know which way the wind is blowing, but fear, doubt, cynicism, or just plain habit is submerging your anger away? Whatever it may be, where are you?

I get that years of school, culture, and sometimes upbringing too—and of course what passes for social media—have taught you how to avoid discomfiting truths. How to not rock the boat. How to get through Thanksgiving without arguing. I get that families can be a drag and that your life prospects legitimately look to you seriously ugly. I get that you have been told to try to be a success, to grab what you can for yourself, but also endlessly prepared to take orders and endure boredom. Ignore the homeless or hunker down under the bridge. Yes, I get all that, but hold on, look over there. Your grandma is demonstrating. You have more energy, better health, and easier access to information. You are Gen Z. You can know so much more. Your values are still fine. Would you really rather weep alone, or rather ignore on-coming hell and say have a nice day, or rather see the turn and compete for crumbs than to collectively stop Trump and move on to bake a whole new cake, a whole new world?

Why is that? To hunker down especially in the face of fascism is a losing game plan. So, where are you? 70 million strong. I really want to know. Am I just not seeing you? Are millions of you about to march? Encamp? Occupy? Is there anything you want, anything you need, in order for you to show up? Your grandma only has so many years left for Trump to batter her around. But you have a whole lifetime. So for her, for your friends, for everyone now here and for generations to come, and for yourself too—where are you?

P.S. I hope the above is largely or entirely unwarranted. The more my worry is misplaced because you are about to enter stage left, you are about to take center stage, the better. But whether my worry is unfair or not, here is a sincere tip from an old guy: If you want to get involved in sustained resistance but you have no clear path to do so, I recommend you visit allofusdirectory.org. Give it a look. There you can enter your locale, your topical interests, and your inclinations to instantly filter from among hundreds of possible progressive organizations those that seek help of a sort you might want to provide. One young person at a time, one after another. 70 million strong. Transcending your elders. To rescue humanity.

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