Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

Anything but the storm

He is the foretold storm, a hurricane poised to sweep away fragile democracy with winds laden with resentment and false promises. Anti-democratic by nature, like someone who strips dreams of their colors and paints them with oppressive gray, his face plastered on posters, coldly smiling, an accomplice to the enemies of freedom.

He delights in confronting NATO. For him, the alliance is an obstacle to be destroyed, a wall to be torn down mercilessly. Every declaration he makes is like a stone thrown at the window of peace, shattering collective security into a thousand pieces.

In his hands, tariffs transform into weapons of economic destruction, a power game where every move is calculated to destabilize and cause pain. He loves the chaos he creates as if the tariffs were dissonant notes in a discordant symphony conducted by a maestro only he understands.

And then there’s Putin, the mirror in which he sees himself reflected. Pro-Putin, as if camaraderie with the Russian leader were a mark of distinction, an indecorous tattoo displayed with pride. They are two chess players on a blood-stained board, moving pieces that are human lives and destinies intertwined in a macabre dance.

The party he leads is a specter, a shadow cast against women’s rights, especially the right to decide over their bodies. Female freedom is a book locked with rusty chains, each page a story of stifled struggle. And he, with his authoritarian presence, embodies the denial of this autonomy, an unyielding guard in the invisible cells of women.

I am talking about Trump. I feel entitled to take a side since I know what happened with our Uncle Sam, which is reflected here. For me, the choice is as clear as the sunrise. There is no doubt between freedom and oppression, autonomy and tyranny. He, with his arsenal of destructive policies and his gaze, lost in a past of control and power, is the antithesis of everything that values human dignity. Life is made of decisions that reveal our true essence, and mine, in this scenario, is clear as crystal: I reject the suffocating embrace of the storm; I choose the gentle breeze of freedom.

Like many others, I am exasperated with Biden’s stubborn refusal to release his grip on power. Yet, if he remains in the race, my support, however reluctant, stays with him. My preferences against Trump are unequivocal:

First, another Democrat. Then Biden, alive, dead, or as a walking dead Joe: anything but the storm.

About the Author
As a Brazilian, Jewish, and humanist writer, I embody a rich cultural blend that influences my worldview and actions. Six years ago, I made the significant decision to move to Israel, a journey that not only connects me to my ancestral roots but also positions me as an active participant in an ongoing dialogue between the past, present, and future. My Latin American heritage and life in Israel have instilled a deep commitment to diversity, inclusion, and justice. Through my writing, I delve into themes of authoritarianism, memory, and resistance, aiming not just to reflect on history but to actively contribute to the shaping of a more just and equitable future. My work is an invitation for reflection and action, aspiring to advance human dignity above all.
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