I have a question I never imagined I’d have to ask in the United States. Not, “Are you worried about where the country is heading?” We’re past that. It’s a question I keep asking myself—and now I’m asking you:
What has to happen before you actively push back at a government transforming into an authoritarian state before our eyes?
Because here’s what haunts me: law, decency and truth are all buckling—and far too many people are still waiting until they’re personally threatened before they act. They’re waiting, as if democracy collapses suddenly, instead of the way it usually unravels: quietly, gradually—one normalized outrage at a time.
So the question is: How will you know when the United States has crossed the line?
I keep hearing the same inadequate answers: “I don’t know.” “I’m not political.” “I just want to live my life.”
But authoritarianism doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t say, “Excuse me, we’re about to end your rights. Is this a good time?” It sells itself as “order,” “security,” “patriotism.” And once it settles in, it sells something else: fear.
So, beginning with myself, I ask again—more personally: Is there a number of U.S. citizens who have to be killed—or disappeared—before we say the words dictatorship or fascism out loud? What if the government begins spiriting away children? What if five year olds can be taken without due process—snatched from school, from home, from a parent’s arms? Would that be your line?
Because by the time the proof is undeniable, the system has already changed. The twisted genius of authoritarianism is simple: It doesn’t need to convince everyone. It only needs to convince enough people to wait.
Wait for the courts. Wait for the next election. Wait for the next news cycle. Wait until it hits your zip code. Wait until it hits your child. Wait until it hits your body.
And that’s when I ask the question that echoes through every authoritarian society:
Which side are you on?
Rob Okun is editor emeritus of ‘Voice Male,’ which has long chronicled the profeminist men’s movement.
