The Real Revolution: Bridging Generations in a Culture That Forgot Empathy

The Real Revolution: Bridging Generations in a Culture That Forgot Empathy

    This week is about uniting—not conforming—and that distinction matters now more than ever. As I’ve traveled across the United States and listened to people from all walks of life, I’ve realized how difficult it truly is to bring people together who are stuck in their ways, hardened by ego, and often unaware of how deeply they've disconnected from others. We’ve lost our ability to be humble in this country, to be truly educated—not just academically, but emotionally—and to acknowledge our own ignorance without shame. But truthfully, I don’t think we’ve lost these things as much as we never fully embraced them. Some communities have long understood what it means to live by the people, for the people, and with the people—supporting public services like the USPS, valuing neutral press like NPR and PBS, and upholding their neighbors with care. But far too many across this country are still stuck in the mindset of “me, me, me”—a culture of individualism that disconnects them from the greater whole.

    Yes, this is absolutely a generational issue, but it is also deeply cultural. Every generation teaches the next, whether intentionally or by omission. When a generation is raised to bottle emotion, reject empathy, and value pride over truth, that mindset gets passed down. Add to that a culture that prioritizes image over honesty, dominance over discussion, and comfort over growth—and what we have is a society that no longer knows how to listen. We’ve created generations of people who don’t want to look beyond themselves, and now we’re watching the results: divided communities, broken communication, and a country that can’t sit still long enough to reflect. Instead of holding ourselves accountable, we throw rocks. Instead of facing the mirror, we point fingers. And instead of seeking growth, we demand agreement. But if no one is looking inward, how do we ever move forward?

    Let’s be honest here. When people say, “I only focus on my community,” they often mean, “I don’t want to deal with what doesn’t affect me.” That may sound reasonable—but that’s privilege.

* Privilege is the ability to disengage from pain because it doesn’t directly harm you. It’s being able to look away while others are forced to endure.

    And that privilege exists all across this country. Yes, the South has a deep and painful history rooted in the Confederacy and violent suppression—but racism, profiling, and injustice aren’t limited to one region. It’s everywhere now. From the North to the West Coast, in urban centers and rural backroads alike, discrimination is alive—subtle in some places, loud in others—but always present. We cannot continue to pretend it’s just “down there” when it lives in housing policies, courtroom bias, hiring discrimination, and everyday social attitudes across America. The fact that someone can choose not to care about what’s happening in another state or to another group of people is exactly how injustice thrives. That is not grounding—that is isolation. That is narcissism.

*Narcissism is a personality trait defined by an inflated sense of self-importance, a deep need for admiration, and a lack of empathy for others. On a cultural level, it manifests as indifference, entitlement, and the constant elevation of one’s personal worldview over collective humanity.

    And this isn’t new. We’ve been in bubbles for decades—taught through local news, sanitized textbooks, and community circles that our view of the world is the only one that matters. In the 70s, 80s, and 90s, media wasn’t as connected, so unless a story made national headlines, most of us had no idea what was happening across the country. That led to emotional disconnection. And now that technology has given us nationwide access to real-time information, many people feel overwhelmed. Rather than confront the truth, they retreat even further. They say, “The world’s gotten worse,” but that’s not true. The suffering has always been there—we’re just finally seeing it. And instead of being humbled, many are offended by the truth.

    Let’s talk about intelligence, too. There’s a destructive false divide between “book smarts” and “street smarts.” We’ve been conditioned to see one as superior when, in reality, both are critical.

* Book Smarts refer to academic learning—knowledge gained through formal education, theory, and research.

Street Smarts are practical intelligence—intuition, resilience, and survival skills learned through lived experience.

    Both matter. One without the other is imbalance. We need researchers and writers just as much as we need welders, riders, and survivors. You cannot build community without both thinkers and doers. We’ve placed value on degrees and ignored the wisdom of those who have walked through fire. I’ve had deeper, more emotionally intelligent conversations with young people on the street than I’ve had with college graduates sitting in power. Wisdom doesn’t come from age or titles—it comes from willingness to grow.

    And that brings me to politics—specifically, the emotional manipulation I’ve seen surrounding the Trump administration and its followers. When I see red hats, when I hear people parroting slogans without question, what I really see is sadness. I see people who are clinging to a movement because they’re afraid, because they’ve been hurt, because they’re looking for belonging in a world that’s confused them. But instead of healing, they’ve hardened. Instead of seeking truth, they’ve doubled down on identity. And that’s heartbreaking—not because they disagree with me, but because they’ve lost touch with their own sense of self. That’s the danger of propaganda.

    We must understand that propaganda didn’t begin in 2016. It’s been here for centuries. In colonial America, it showed up in political cartoons and biased newspapers that twisted public opinion. Today, it’s amplified through digital algorithms, billionaire-owned media outlets, and intentional misinformation. That’s why protecting and supporting free press—real, neutral, community-rooted press like NPR and PBS—is more important than ever. If your local news gets bought out, and you’ve never looked beyond it, how will you even recognize the bias? Without media literacy, without exposure to diverse perspectives, you are vulnerable to manipulation. And so are your children.

    We must teach our children better. We must teach ourselves better. And we must stop blaming the younger generation for what they’ve inherited. I’ve met children with more awareness, compassion, and clarity than adults twice their age. And I’ve met elders who have carried trauma and silence for so long they’ve forgotten how to speak truth to it. This is not a battle between young and old. This is a reckoning across generations. We can no longer ignore the emotional inheritance passed down from those who were never given space to heal. As a parent, I look at my child and know that part of my responsibility is to break that cycle—to do better, so that he can too. We don’t just owe that to ourselves. We owe it to each other.

    So no—this isn’t just about political sides or social trends. This is about humanity. This is about our future. And if we truly want to unite, we have to learn how to listen. We have to stop conforming to the loudest voice in the room and start connecting to the most honest one. We have to care—not just for our neighbors, but for people we may never meet. Because unity isn’t about sameness. It’s about understanding. It’s about humility. And it’s about being brave enough to pop the bubble we’ve been living in, look in the mirror, and ask, “How can I be better?” That is where the real revolution begins.