Vox

by Christina Dalcher

They’re good old boys.”

“No, you dope. The straight white dude. He’s angry as shit. He feels emasculated.”

They came at us from so many vectors, and so

One thing I learned from Jackie: you can’t protest what you don’t see coming.

I learned that once a plan is in place, everything can happen overnight.

They won’t kill us for the same reason they won’t sanction abortions. We’ve turned into necessary evils, objects to be fucked and not heard.

“Be teachers of good things; teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children, to be discreet, chaste,

keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands.”

Patrick is the third type of man. He’s not a believer and he’s not a woman-hating asshole; he’s just weak. And I’d rather think about men who aren’t.

My daughter has been silent all day.

I keep reminding myself it isn’t my fault. I didn’t vote for Myers. I didn’t vote at all, actually.

Maybe this is how it happened in Germany with the Nazis, in Bosnia with the Serbs, in Rwanda with the Hutus. I’ve often wondered about that, about how kids can turn into monsters, how they learn that killing is right and oppression is just, how in one single generation the world can change on its axis into a place that’s unrecognizable.

Monsters aren’t born, ever. They’re made, piece by piece and limb by limb, artificial creations of madmen who, like the misguided Frankenstein, always think they know better.