Tag: Social Commentary

When Social Media Was Different

Social media has changed, and not for the better.

With everything going on in the world right now, I have been thinking a lot about social media. I have been reflecting on what it was meant to be and what it has become..

What It Was

I joined Facebook in 2005. Back then, it served a clear purpose. It helped people stay connected as life pulled them in different directions. You shared photos, updates, and small moments without turning every post into a declaration or a fight.

As more people I knew joined, it worked even better. Friends, family, coworkers. It did what it promised.

When pages were introduced, it felt like real progress. People shared lived experiences and built community. I follow pages related to autism, type one diabetes, and hearing loss. I have learned about conditions like Sanfilippo syndrome from families living it every day.

That kind of sharing still matters. It educates, builds awareness, and creates connection. It is one of the few reasons I have not walked away entirely.

When Thoughtfulness Slipped

Somewhere along the way, thoughtfulness started to fade.

Social media began rewarding quick reactions instead of reflection. If you feel something, you post it. If you disagree, you respond immediately, often without pause.

Context is lost. Curiosity disappears.

I am not immune to this. I have reacted in the moment and regretted it later. Words still have consequences, even online.

Or at least, they should.

Too often now, restraint is missing. The screen creates distance, and with it, a loss of basic courtesy. In a world already tense and divided, that lack of care only deepens the divide.

Outrage moves faster than understanding. Certainty is amplified. Nuance struggles to survive.

Choosing Silence Intentionally

I have learned to keep many of my thoughts to myself, especially around current events or politics. When I do post, it is usually to highlight something meaningful within the disability community.

I stay quiet not because I lack opinions, but because thoughtful positions rarely translate well online. Context gets flattened. Intent gets misread. Careful words are easily twisted.

The people who know me understand this. Online, that understanding is often absent.

And that choice comes with trade-offs.

What I Miss

I still enjoy seeing what friends, family, and community members are doing. I value sharing my own experiences, both big and small.

I care about talking honestly about life with a disability, navigating a city, and living with a service dog. I believe education and visibility matter.

It has simply become harder to show up thoughtfully in spaces that prioritize speed over substance and reaction over care.

The Silo Problem

More and more, people are retreating into smaller circles. They unfriend. They block. They remove anyone who does not align perfectly with their views.

I understand the impulse. No one wants to be attacked or misunderstood. But when self-protection turns into isolation, something important is lost.

Removing all disagreement does not build community. It creates an echo chamber.

This Was Not the Promise

Social media was meant to bring people together. It was supposed to help us stay connected across distance, difference, and time.

Instead, it often encourages labeling and dismissal. Disagreement is treated as hostility. Curiosity is mistaken for weakness.

Moving Forward

Lately, I have been seriously reconsidering my place on social media.

I will keep my accounts active for practical reasons. Messaging still has value. I will continue posting occasionally in specific spaces. Beyond that, I am becoming more selective.

Social media can still connect and educate. You must be willing to sift through noise, anger, and impulse. This is how you find what truly matters.

I mute freely. I unfollow without guilt. I post less, not because I have less to say, but because careful words deserve better conditions than this.

I once believed social media would bring us closer together. Watching it push people further apart has clarified something for me.

For now, stepping back feels less like giving up and more like choosing a healthier distance.

01/14/26
When the Season Shifts

When I first became a soccer fan, I never thought much about the weather. It was just part of the experience. The game and I have evolved. I’ve started thinking about how changing seasons shape what accessibility really means for fans like me. Changing bodies also influences this meaning.

I’ve been reading about Major League Soccer’s proposed move to a fall–spring schedule. I understand the reasoning behind it. Still, I can’t help but think about how it will change the fan experience. This is especially true for those of us who feel the seasons differently than we used to.

When I first became a fan back in 2015, the cold didn’t bother me. I was just excited to be there to feel part of something alive and electric. I remember going to a game one chilly October and bringing one of my aunts along. She thought I “looked cold,” even though I swore I was fine. By halftime, she’d bought me a hot chocolate, a hat, and maybe even a sweatshirt.

I still remember that small act of care. The steam rose from the cup. Her laughter cut through the cold air. I didn’t think much of it then. Yet, looking back, I realize it was one of those simple, human moments that stay with you.

A couple of years later, at our first home game in MLS, the weather turned on us fast. Heavy snow fell throughout the match, thick, wet flakes that clung to your eyelashes and soaked your gloves. The snow was coming down so fast that they had to use leaf blowers to clear the lines.

My toes went numb halfway through, but it didn’t matter. The atmosphere was electric, the crowd united in equal parts misery and joy. We were there together, and that was enough.

Those were different times. I was a different person. I was more willing to push through the discomfort just to be part of the moment.

These days, I’ve noticed that the same weather affects me differently. I attend fewer matches as temperatures drop, and this year I didn’t opt in for playoff tickets at all. It’s not that my passion for the team has faded far from it. It’s just that Minnesota’s fall weather is unpredictable. This unpredictability makes it hard to plan. I find it difficult to feel confident that I’ll be comfortable or safe. The wind cuts a little deeper now. The cold lingers a little longer.

Supporting a team with an outdoor stadium like Allianz Field comes with that territory. Still, it’s made me think more about what “accessibility” really means. We often talk about it in physical terms, ramps, seating, transportation, and those things matter deeply.

Accessibility can also mean something softer, more personal: being capable of participating fully without discomfort, fear, or exhaustion. Weather affects this aspect, particularly for fans with mobility challenges. It impacts those with chronic pain or other health conditions, making the cold more than just an inconvenience.

For some fans, colder games are part of the charm. They enjoy layers of scarves and hands wrapped around coffee cups. There is a sense of endurance that becomes almost a badge of honor. But for others, it’s not that simple. The cold can turn joy into endurance, and that can change the whole experience.

As I’ve grown and my needs have shifted, I’ve noticed some changes. I’ve started to see how sports, something built on togetherness, can sometimes overlook the quiet ways inclusion matters.

The fan experience isn’t just about ticket sales. It isn’t solely about crowd energy either. It’s about whether everyone can share in those moments equally. That’s true for people of all kinds.

This includes those experiencing changes due to age. It also includes people with disabilities, sensory needs, or simply changing bodies who experience the world differently than before. Accessibility isn’t one-size-fits-all, and weather adds another layer to that reality.

I still love this sport, this team, and the community it builds. Soccer has been a steady thread through so many seasons of my life, literally and figuratively. But my relationship to it has evolved as I have. The same stands that once made me feel unstoppable now remind me to listen to my body. To respect its limits. To show up in ways that make sense for where I am now.

If MLS does move to a fall–spring schedule, I hope clubs and stadiums will think creatively. They should consider what that means for all fans.

Maybe that looks like expanding covered seating in some venues. It could also mean improving heat access. Or it could simply involve offering more understanding around accessibility options in cold weather. Sometimes inclusion begins with small acts. It could be a staff member who notices. It might be a space to warm up. Or it could be the willingness to ask, “What do you need to feel comfortable here?”

For many of us, being a fan isn’t about braving the elements anymore. It’s about connection: to the game, to the people around us, and to ourselves. It’s about finding warmth in community, even when the temperature drops.

Seasons shift, people change, and that’s okay. What matters most is finding warmth in the stands. We need warmth in the community. It is essential in the spaces that still make us feel like we belong.

11/12/25
Government Shutdowns: Why Ordinary Americans Pay the Price While Congress Gets Paid
The United States government has shut down. Again.

This isn’t just political theater happening in Washington. When the government shuts down, real people suffer. Federal workers are furloughed without pay. Others are forced to show up and work for free, waiting and hoping that back pay eventually comes. Contractors may never see the money they lose. Families who rely on government programs are left with uncertainty.

Meanwhile, Congress just shrugs and keeps collecting their paychecks.

Here’s what gets me: if I don’t pay my rent, I lose my apartment. If I don’t pay the electric bill, the lights go out. But when Congress doesn’t pay the government’s bills? They get to stay in their cushy offices while the rest of the country pays the price.

The Duct Tape of Democracy: What a Continuing Resolution Is

When Congress can’t pass an actual budget, they often slap on a Continuing Resolution (CR). Think of it like duct tape: it keeps the machine running for a little while, but it’s no long-term fix.

A CR basically says: “We’ll just keep spending at last year’s levels.” That means agencies can’t start new projects. They can’t adjust to new needs. They just sit in limbo, waiting for Congress to stop bickering. Sometimes multiple CRs get passed in a single year — kicking the can further down the road.

And when even a CR doesn’t pass? That’s when the shutdown slams into place.

A Quick History Lesson on Shutdowns

Shutdowns weren’t always the rule. Before 1980, if Congress blew the deadline, agencies kept operating. That changed after Attorney General Benjamin Civiletti ruled that under the Antideficiency Act, funding gaps legally required shutdowns. Since then, they’ve become a recurring disaster.

Some of the biggest shutdowns:
- 1995–96 (Clinton vs. Gingrich): Lasted 21 days. About 800,000 workers furloughed. A standoff over spending cuts.
- 2013 (Obama): Sixteen days. Sparked by the fight over the Affordable Care Act. Cost the economy an estimated $24 billion.
- 2018–19 (Trump): The record-holder at 35 days. Caused by the border wall funding battle. About 800,000 workers went without pay; countless contractors never got their money back.
- 2025 (Right Now): Once again, Congress blew the deadline. Here we are, living the same old nightmare.
Every shutdown looks different. The fallout is predictable. Families end up at food banks because paychecks stopped. Veterans wait longer for benefits. Disability services are disrupted. Medical research is stalled. Parks are shuttered. Small businesses near federal facilities take losses they can’t recover.

Who Gets Hurt the Most

Shutdowns don’t hit everyone equally.

Disabled people often feel the blow first. There are delays in Social Security claims. There are disruptions to medical research. Federal grants that keep vital services running can be paused.

Veterans face delayed benefits. Families who rely on nutrition programs like WIC find themselves in limbo.

For federal employees who live paycheck to paycheck, a missed paycheck can have serious consequences. Many of these employees are veterans or disabled. It can mean bills pile up, rent becomes overdue, or prescriptions are skipped. It’s not just numbers on a ledger. It’s human lives destabilized by political games.

Why This Keeps Happening

Here’s the kicker: shutdowns aren’t about money. The U.S. has the credit to pay its bills. Shutdowns are about politics — leaders holding the budget hostage to force fights over unrelated issues.

It’s brinkmanship at the expense of ordinary people.

A Better Way Forward

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Look at Minnesota. Our state legislature is required to pass a budget by the end of session. Is it always pretty? No. But the government doesn’t shut down every time lawmakers disagree. There’s a built-in deadline that forces people to do the job.

Why can’t Congress do the same?

Maybe we need rules that make shutdowns impossible. No budget? No recess. No budget? No pay. No budget? No office.

If I don’t pay my rent, I get evicted. If I don’t pay my bills, I lose my lights. Maybe it’s time Congress faced the same reality.

Conclusion

What do you think? I’d love to hear your thoughts, but let’s keep it civil. No name-calling, no bashing, no personal attacks. This is about ideas, not insults.

And let me be perfectly clear: I am not laying the blame on one party alone. Both Republicans and Democrats share responsibility for this mess. My goal isn’t to pick sides. I aim to highlight a broken system that keeps hurting real people. I also want to suggest a better way forward.
10/01/25
When Social Media Follows You to Work
In today’s world, it’s easy to forget an important fact. What we post on social media doesn’t just reflect on us personally. It can also reflect on our employers.

Many organizations have policies. Sometimes they even have contractual clauses. These allow them to take action if an employee’s public statements cross certain lines.

Everyone has the right to express their views. It’s important to be mindful of how those words could be perceived. Consider the potential consequences they carry.

It’s also easy to forget how permanent the internet really is. Even if you remove a post there is no guarantee that someone hasn’t taken a screenshot of the post beforehand.

I’ll admit, I’ve made posts in the past that weren’t the wisest choices. In one case, I ended up in a conversation with my human resources department because of something I posted.

After that, I scrubbed all references to employers from my personal profiles. Of course, that’s not a foolproof way to keep things from getting back to your workplace. I still maintain a LinkedIn profile. It lists my employment history. The truth is people can be surprisingly skilled at internet sleuthing. More often than not, they can figure out where someone works — or even lives.

Recent events have made the stakes even clearer. According to reporting in The New York Times, more than 145 people across the country have lost their jobs. They were fired, suspended, or pushed out after making statements about the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk.

These weren’t just public figures or media personalities. They were nurses, restaurant workers, nonprofit staffers, and even a police officer.
- A nurse in Phoenix lost her job after joking near a nurses’ station about the shooting, even though she never wished Kirk dead.
- A nonprofit literacy worker in Milwaukee was fired after posting on Facebook about gun violence. She wrote, “Yes I am making his death political, no I do not care.” She intended to highlight policy issues. However, others interpreted her words as saying Kirk “got what he deserved.”
- In Wisconsin, an elementary school administrator was wrongly accused of celebrating Kirk’s death. Even though the post wasn’t hers, she was flooded with death threats. She had to leave her home. She returned to school only with extra police security.
These stories highlight a bigger problem: what we mean isn’t always what people hear. Tone, body language, and inflection matter in spoken conversation. Online, all of that disappears. A laughing emoji, a sarcastic remark, or a blunt opinion can be stripped of its context. It can then be interpreted in the worst possible light.

And once a post is out there, it can be picked up, shared, and judged far beyond its original audience. A message written for 70 friends can end up in front of 70,000 strangers. An employer may suddenly feel pressure to act.

This raises difficult questions. The First Amendment protects speech from government punishment, but it doesn’t shield employees from workplace consequences. Employers, fearing reputational damage or political backlash, often act quickly — sometimes too quickly — when controversial speech surfaces. That leaves workers navigating a world where one poorly worded post could cost them their livelihood.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. People should be mindful of what they share online. But I also believe we need more nuance and grace. Everyone has said things they regret. Sometimes what looks like cruelty is really clumsy anger. It might also be gallows humor or frustration taken out of context.

In a society where “the internet never forgets,” we should practice remembering something important. Human beings are more than their worst posts.

I’m of an age where I grew up right as the internet was going mainstream. I was finishing college when Facebook first started taking off. I’ve seen both the “wild west” era of online posting. Also, I’ve seen today’s world where a single misstep can follow you forever.

I see both sides. Employees need to think before they post. Employers and the public also need to remember that one post doesn’t define a person’s entire character.

So I’ll end with this: How do we balance accountability with compassion in the digital age? How should we weigh the permanence of words written online against the humanity of the people who write them? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
09/28/25
Why I Applaud Schools for Banning Smartphones (And Why You Should Too)
Kids are heading back to school, and I’m thrilled to see more schools taking a firm stand against smartphones. Honestly, it’s about time. Kids don’t need phones.

They’re not the lifeline we pretend they are. They’re attention traps. They pull students into a digital black hole. Instead of being trapped, students should be focusing on math, making friends, or just being kids.

And yes, I say this as an adult who knows how easy it is to lose hours to the scroll. If I can’t always resist the temptation, imagine what it’s like for a seventh-grader in the middle of algebra.

The Research

The research backs up what most of us already feel in our gut. Nearly three-quarters of school leaders say phones hurt students’ mental health, and a similar number say they damage attention spans. Teachers see it too—about one-third call cellphone distraction a major problem in classrooms. And the issue isn’t small. Studies show teens spend an average of 1.5 hours on their phones during the school day. That’s not “just a quick check.” That’s a full class period wasted every single day.

And yet, kids are getting smartphones younger and younger. More than half of eight-year-olds already own a phone or tablet. By age eleven, most kids have one in their pocket. Eighty-four percent of teens now carry smartphones everywhere they go.

Pair that with relentless notifications, hundreds a day, and it’s no wonder anxiety, stress, and fractured attention are running high. We’ve given them a tool designed to keep them hooked. Then, we wonder why they can’t stay focused in class.

Here’s the kicker: bans work. When schools in the Netherlands restricted phones, 75 percent reported better concentration. Additionally, 59 percent saw kids interacting more. Nearly 30 percent even saw grades go up.

U.S. schools experimenting with phone bans are noticing something similar…kids are actually talking to each other again.

Cafeterias are noisier in the best way. Teachers report calmer classrooms. Some schools are even bringing back foosball tables. They are also reintroducing board games. Suddenly, lunchtime looks like 1998 instead of a TikTok set.

Parental Push back

Parents often push back with the same argument: What if I need to reach my child in an emergency? I get it. The idea of being cut off feels scary.

But let’s be real…you grew up without a phone. Your parents grew up without a phone. If something happened, they called the school or they showed up. It worked.

Civilization didn’t collapse. And it wouldn’t now. There are systems in place for emergencies, and banning phones during school hours doesn’t mean banning common sense.

The bottom line? Smartphones aren’t helping kids succeed in school. They’re stealing focus, hurting mental health, and replacing real human connection with endless notifications.

If I had kids, I wouldn’t give them a smartphone, tablet, or computer at all.

It’s not to punish them. I’d want them to live in the real world and not inside a feed. I’d want them to have real, face-to-face conversations instead of hiding behind a screen.

They don’t need to be exposed to all the junk floating around the internet. Honestly, they already get enough of that from streaming platforms… but that’s a whole other conversation.

Technology should serve us, not swallow us whole.

Schools banning phones isn’t overreach; it’s a reset. It’s a chance to give kids what they need most space to learn, think, and just be kids.

Chime In

What do you think? Should schools go all-in and block phones completely, or do you think kids should still have access during the day?

Sources and Further Reading
Resources for Parents
09/04/25
When School Safety Plans Leave Students Behind
I wasn’t sure how much more I was going to say about the recent school shooting at Annunciation Catholic School. But then I stumbled across an article in the Minnesota Star Tribune, and it stopped me in my tracks.

We practice drills in school—lock downs, tornado, fire—because safety matters. I remember those drills vividly from my own time in elementary school. My experience was never quite like my classmates’.

During tornado drills, everyone crouched on the floor, arms covering their necks. Me? Still sitting upright in my wheelchair, because that was the safest option we had.

Fire drills were even more complicated. I remember a specific instance when the alarm went off. No one was sure if it was a drill or the real thing. Elevators can’t be used in an actual fire, but that day, there wasn’t time to debate. A staff member just scooped me up and carried me down three flights of stairs. I sat on the grass outside without my chair until we got the all-clear.

I applaud that staff member for their quick thinking in getting me out of the building. I also applaud the Annunciation staff. They pulled a student out of his wheelchair and shielded him with their bodies. Those moments were heroic—but they were also unplanned. They happened because people acted on instinct, not because the system had a clear, inclusive plan.

The Hard Truth: Our Plans Have Gaps

Yes, emergency procedures can be written into IEPs. Many do. But let’s be honest—you can’t plan for every scenario. Right now, too many schools are failing to plan for some of the most basic ones.

Here’s the reality for students with disabilities:
- They may not be able to flatten to the ground during a lock down.
- They may not move as fast as their peers—or at all—when evacuating.
- They may not cognitively understand what’s happening in the chaos and could unintentionally move toward danger.
These are life-or-death gaps. And yet, they’re rarely talked about until tragedy strikes.

What Minnesota Requires—and Where It Falls Short

Minnesota law requires schools to have comprehensive emergency plans, and those plans are supposed to include students with disabilities. Best practices suggest:
- Individual Evacuation Plans for students who need them
- Accessible alerts for students with hearing or vision impairments
- Specialized evacuation equipment, like stair chairs
But in practice, these things don’t always happen. Many schools still:
- Skip individualized drills because they’re time-consuming
- Lack staff training for evacuating students with disabilities
- Depend on instinct in emergencies, instead of clear systems
That gap between policy and practice is dangerous—and it needs attention now.

The Bigger Picture: Gun Violence and Safety for All

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again:
- We need common-sense gun reform.
- We need mental health screenings.
- We do not need weapons of war on our streets.
I support the Second Amendment. I support responsible gun ownership. But firearms designed to fire dozens of rounds in seconds have no place in civilian life. They exist for one purpose: destruction.

Until laws change, we live in a reality where lock down drills and emergency plans are essential. That reality must include every student.

What Needs to Happen Now

We can’t just design safety for the majority and leave the minority behind. Here’s what schools should be doing now:
- Individualized Safety Plans for every student with mobility, sensory, or cognitive disabilities
- Regular drills that include students with disabilities (not afterthought drills)
- Evacuation equipment and staff training to make sure no one is left behind
- Collaboration with first responders so they know how to assist students with disabilities during real emergencies
Why This Matters

I hate writing about this. It breaks me to even think about it. But ignoring it won’t make it go away. These conversations matter because too often, we design for the majority and leave the rest to fend for themselves.

It’s time to change that. Every student deserves a clear, safe path in an emergency. No exceptions.

We can’t wait for another headline to have this conversation. Start it now—because safety should never be optional.

What You Can Do Today
- Ask your school if students with disabilities have individualized safety plans.
- Talk to your school board about inclusive drills and evacuation equipment.
- Advocate at the state level for stronger accountability and resources for schools.
Resources for Parents and Advocates
08/31/25
The Tug-of-War Between Thinking and Speaking
Ever felt like your mouth and your brain are in a tug-of-war? That’s me, whenever a sensitive topic comes up especially when it’s not about me directly. I want to say something, but I don’t want to say the wrong thing. Here’s what I’ve learned about breaking that silence.

There’s something I want to admit: When conversations get sensitive, I often stay silent. These are especially topics that don’t directly affect me. It’s not because I don’t care or I’m indifferent. Far from it. I stay silent because I struggle to express what’s on my mind. I worry about sounding insensitive or stepping on someone’s toes.

I’ve caught myself biting my tongue more times than I can count. It’s not because I lack an opinion.

It is because I’m afraid of how my words might land. I worry about being labeled a bigot, or racist, or narrow-minded, simply for sharing my honest perspective. And honestly? That fear sometimes feels paralyzing.

People often assume silence means indifference. But in my experience, it’s usually the opposite: a mix of empathy, self-awareness, and caution.

It’s that inner struggle. You want to contribute meaningfully. However, you don’t want to cause harm or come across the wrong way.

The problem is, if I wait until I can say everything perfectly, I might never speak at all. And I know I’m not alone in this. Many people wrestle with how to balance sharing their truth with being respectful and open.

So here’s what I’ve learned helps me:
- Start by sharing my intent: making it clear I’m coming from a place of care and curiosity, not judgment.
- Acknowledge my own limitations: recognizing when something isn’t my lived experience and being open to correction.
- Focus on sharing one clear thought at a time, rather than trying to say everything all at once.
- Leave room for dialogue: inviting others to share their perspectives and help me see what I might be missing.
It’s not perfect, and I still stumble sometimes. But speaking this way has helped me move from silence to conversation without feeling like I’m walking a verbal tightrope.

I’m sharing this because I plan to open up about some sensitive issues in the future. And I want you, the reader, to know. When I do, it’s coming from a place of honesty and respect. Even if it’s imperfect.

If you ever find yourself hesitating to speak up for fear of saying the wrong thing, know you’re not alone. It’s okay to be cautious, but don’t let that stop you from sharing your thoughts and feelings. The world needs your voice, even if it’s sometimes a little rough around the edges.
08/09/25
Flying Forward: Let’s Talk About the Flag Controversy
A few days ago, the Star Tribune published an article titled “Not a ‘Greater Minnesota’ flag? Detroit Lakes latest city to refuse flying state flag.” It covered the growing number of cities. These cities—including Hastings and Detroit Lakes—are opting not to raise Minnesota’s new state flag.

I followed the redesign process with cautious optimism. I found the piece frustrating. Not everyone needs to love the new flag. However, so much of the conversation continues to miss the point.

This is what I had to say in the Star Tribune comments:

I understand the desire to honor history and the comfort of the familiar. While some believe the previous flag honored our past, others saw it as a symbol of racism. Another fact is the old Minnesota flag was frequently confused with others because it lacked distinction as it was just the state seal on a blue background. I don’t love the new design, and I do think there’s room for improvement, but the old flag wasn’t serving us well. One clear advantage of the new flag is that it can actually be recognized as Minnesota’s something the previous design failed to do. Change is uncomfortable, but it’s also an opportunity. It has given us the ability to have a conversation. If people feel passionately about changing the flag again take the initiative to make it happen.

A New Emblem for a New Era

Minnesota’s new state flag was officially adopted on May 11, 2024. It replaced the blue banner bearing the state seal. This banner had flown in one form or another since 1957. Its design lineage goes back to 1893.

The new flag features a deep blue field symbolizing the night sky. A light blue curve represents Minnesota’s lakes and rivers. An eight-pointed star evokes the state motto, L’Étoile du Nord (“The Star of the North”).

Looking Back: A Brief History of the Flag

For the first 35 years of statehood, Minnesota had no official state flag.

1983

That changed in 1893 when the Auxiliary Board sponsored the creation of an official flag. The design selected came from Amelia Hyde Center, a Minneapolis artist and leather worker. This original flag featured a white front and blue reverse, which made it expensive and less durable.

1957

In 1957, Minnesota redesigned the flag to have a blue field on both sides. This change simplified production. They updated the floral elements for botanical accuracy. They replaced the original moccasin flowers with pink-and-white lady’s slippers. The pink-and-white lady’s slippers are the official state flower.

1983

The flag saw another redesign in 1983. Designers lightened the blue. They also updated the seal to include imagery such as the Mississippi River, St. Anthony Falls, and pine trees. This reflects the state’s natural heritage.

Over time, the 1983 flag drew criticism. It was seen as overly complex and visually confusing. It resembled other state flags that simply feature a seal on a blue background. Critics also raised concerns about the symbolism of the seal, which some viewed as a representation of Manifest Destiny.

Design Debates and Grassroots Alternatives

Minnesota’s flag redesign hasn’t been without controversy or creative alternatives. In 1957, Representative John Tracy Anderson and Major General Joseph E. Nelson proposed a star-based flag with red, white, and blue tribands, though it was rejected by the legislature.

More recently, the North Star Flag was created in 1988 by Lee Herold and Reverend William Becker. It gained grassroots support with its meaningful colors. Its simple and distinctive design also contributed to its popularity. While never officially adopted, the North Star Flag has remained a beloved unofficial symbol. It was even presented to the redesign commission in 2023.

The Redesign Process

The push for a new flag gained official momentum starting in 2021. A Wayzata High School student approached State Senator Ann Johnson Stewart with the idea.

This led to legislation establishing the State Emblems Redesign Commission in 2023. The commission is charged with proposing new designs that reflect Minnesota’s shared history, resources, and diverse communities. It explicitly prohibits symbols that represent only a single group.

The commission includes representatives from Indigenous, African Heritage, Latino, and Asian-Pacific communities, as well as members of the general public. The commission presented a new flag design after careful deliberation and public input. The legislature adopted this design on May 11, 2024.

The Refusals and Reactions

Some People Love It

As with any change, the new flag has its fans. Many appreciate that the design is clean, modern, and—most importantly—distinctly Minnesota. The new flag doesn’t just look nice on paper. It’s practical and recognizable. It is also far less likely to be confused with any other state’s banner. For decades, people saw a blue flag with a complicated seal. Few could identify it. Now, Minnesota finally has a flag that can stand on its own.

Some People Don’t

But of course, not everyone loves the new flag. Some cities, like Detroit Lakes and Hastings, have refused to fly it. Critics often cite nostalgia for the old flag and a desire to honor the past.

Others see the old flag’s imagery as a reflection of Minnesota’s history. They acknowledge its warts and all. They worry that the new flag erases or sanitizes that story.

Some also point out that the new flag isn’t perfect and could be improved. And that’s fair—no flag is flawless, and every design involves compromises. The truth is, flags are symbols, and symbols carry different meanings for different people.

My Take

I understand the desire to honor history and the comfort of the familiar. While some believe the previous flag honored our past, others saw it as a symbol of racism. Another fact is the old Minnesota flag was frequently confused with others. It lacked distinction because it was just the state seal on a blue background.

I don’t love the new design. I do think there’s room for improvement. However, the old flag wasn’t serving us well.

One clear advantage of the new flag is that it can actually be recognized as Minnesota’s. The previous design failed to achieve this. Change is uncomfortable, but it’s also an opportunity. It has given us the ability to have a conversation.

Flags Aren’t Sacred. They’re Evolving.

Plenty of iconic flags have undergone change:
- The U.S. flag has changed 27 times.
- Canada didn’t adopt its maple leaf until 1965.
- South Africa’s current flag, widely recognized today, was finalized in days.
Designs come and go, but the values we attach to them can deepen over time.

Discomfort is an Invitation

As I wrote before in my Star Tribune comment:

“Change is uncomfortable, but it’s also an opportunity. It has given us the ability to have a conversation.”

Don’t like the flag? Great. Say so. Offer your vision. Start a petition. Participate in the next redesign cycle. But don’t opt out of the conversation entirely.

Because flags don’t just represent where we’ve been. They shape how we see where we’re going.

Minnesota is big enough to hold multiple truths. To love parts of the past while acknowledging its harms. To critique a design without discarding what it stands for. To fly a flag that looks forward, not just backward.

If you don’t feel represented by the new flag—make your voice heard. But don’t assume that refusing to fly it is the same as standing for something noble. Sometimes, progress looks like a banner that’s unfamiliar. Sometimes, unity starts with a little discomfort.

And sometimes, the bravest thing a flag can do is change.
07/06/25
Independence for Whom? Reflecting on the Fourth of July in 2025

It’s the Fourth of July, 2025. Across the country, grills are sizzling, boats are cruising, and coolers are cracking open. The night skies will soon erupt in fireworks. For most Americans, this holiday means freedom, family, and summer fun.

But I’ve gotten older. Our country has grown louder, more divided, and frankly, more dangerous. And lately, a question keeps echoing in my mind: What does the Fourth of July really mean anymore?

A Brief History of Independence

Let’s start with what this day is supposed to commemorate. On July 4, 1776, the Continental Congress adopted the Declaration of Independence. This bold move declared the thirteen colonies free from British rule. It rejected tyranny and laid the foundation for a self-governed nation.

We still cling to the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But here’s the truth: those rights weren’t originally meant for everyone.

A Revolution That Wasn’t for Everyone

The Founding Fathers declared that “all men are created equal” while holding others in chains. The government claimed to defend liberty. Yet, it stole land from Indigenous people. It silenced women. It also excluded poor, disabled, and queer individuals from public life.

In reality, the revolution granted freedom only to a privileged few.

The story of America since 1776 has been long and painful. It shows a struggle to expand that freedom. The aim has been to include the people left out. The abolition of slavery was not handed down. Women’s suffrage and the Civil Rights Movement were not freely given. The Stonewall Riots and the Americans with Disabilities Act were claimed through struggle. People fought for them alongside those who rose up.

They were won by those who refused to be erased.

I write and advocate from within the LGBTQIA and disability communities. For many of us, the fight still isn’t over.

The Ongoing Attacks on LGBTQ+ Rights…Especially Trans Youth

Across the country, we’re seeing a coordinated assault on LGBTQ+ rights, particularly targeting transgender individuals. And it’s not happening in shadows—it’s happening in full public view.

Much of this legislation focuses on minors, stripping away access to gender-affirming care under the false banner of “protection.” But let’s be honest: this isn’t about safety. It’s about political control. It’s about fear. It’s about forcing children to live in bodies and identities that cause them pain.

Most trans youth seeking care are not undergoing surgeries. They’re being prescribed puberty blockers—safe, reversible treatments that offer something simple and profound: time. Time to think, to grow, to become.

Instead of trusting doctors or supporting parents, lawmakers are imposing one-size-fits-all mandates on children they’ve never met.

What happened to freedom?
What happened to parental rights?
What happened to that “small government” so many once held sacred?

35 Years Since the ADA

This year marks 35 years since the Americans with Disabilities Act was signed into law. It’s a landmark civil rights achievement that changed the legal landscape for millions. I was just finishing kindergarten in 1990. I had no idea then how deeply the ADA would shape my path—or how far we’d still have to go.

Because the fight didn’t end in 1990.

If you need a refresher on how we got here, here’s a brief history of the ADA. It still matters. A lot.

As someone who belongs to both the disabled and LGBTQ+ communities, these issues aren’t abstract to me. They’re personal. They’re real. They’re urgent.

Even with the ADA in place, accessibility remains inconsistent. Healthcare is broken. Now, under the current Trump administration, programs that support disabled people are under attack.

These aren’t luxuries. They’re lifelines.

Today, crucial programs for people with disabilities face funding cuts. Leaders are trying to balance the books. This comes after giving massive tax breaks to billionaires and corporations. Their choice? Slash services for the most vulnerable among us.

What We Teach And What We Erase

We say we value freedom, but we whitewash our history to make it more comfortable.

We teach about the Declaration of Independence. We give a brief nod to the Civil Rights Movement. But what about the Stonewall riots? What about the 504 Sit-In, where disabled activists occupied a federal building for nearly a month?

Why do we erase the truths that make us uncomfortable?

Some states are now passing laws that allow parents to pull their kids from school activities that mention LGBTQ+ families. A picture book about two dads becomes “controversial.”

Look—I support the right of families to hold personal beliefs. I also believe education should prepare kids for the real world. It’s a world full of diverse people, relationships, and identities.

Pretending they don’t exist doesn’t protect kids. It confuses them. It primes them to respond with fear—or hate—when they meet someone different.

Independence in a Nation Built by Immigrants

We are a nation of immigrants. But you wouldn’t know it from today’s political discourse.

Let me be clear: I support deporting people who commit serious crimes after entering illegally. That’s not controversial—it’s common sense.

But millions of immigrants—many undocumented—are holding up the scaffolding of our daily lives. They’re working in fields, hotels, kitchens, janitorial services. Jobs many Americans scorn—while depending on them.

And instead of treating these workers with dignity, we vilify them. We build walls and cages. We pass policies that dehumanize.

Meanwhile, billionaires and corporations are shielded from taxes, oversight, and even basic accountability.

The Boiling Pot We Refuse to Notice

The average American is being played.

We’re told to fear immigrants. Disabled people. Trans youth. Anyone “different.” We argue among ourselves. Meanwhile, lawmakers pass legislation that benefits the ultra-wealthy and large corporations. This leaves the rest of us scrambling.

Social safety nets are unraveling.
Corporate profits are protected, while food assistance, Medicaid, and disability programs are slashed.

It’s like the old frog metaphor:
If you slowly turn up the heat, the frog won’t notice it’s boiling.

That’s where we are as a country.
And the water’s getting hotter.

Final Thoughts

So what does the Fourth of July mean anymore?

For me, it’s not fireworks or flags. It’s the chance to remember that the dream of freedom isn’t finished. It’s unfinished business.

The work of building a more inclusive, just, and fair country belongs to us now.

Not just today—but every day.

07/04/25