Knowledge goes hand in hand with artistic, scientific, political, and societal creativity, of course—as do the freedoms to explore, to express, to err, learn, and correct. And all these are essential to what we in the Western world call progress—advancing and improving the lot of humankind and our understanding of the universe in which we dwell. As Susan Young of Jacksonville, FL wrote in response to our call for Forum contributions: “Whenever we start to tell people what they can learn in institutions that were created to open our minds, we are doing ourselves a disservice. We are, in effect, dumbing down the next generation.”

Yet, for the last several months, the new U.S. administration has been launching a breathtaking number of initiatives threatening the existence and/or integrity of institutions devoted to knowledge, creativity, and intellectual exploration. When we asked you, our readers, to comment on these measures, Young’s was among dozens of eloquent, thoughtful— sometimes angry—responses:

“We the people voted for a kakistocracy [government by the least suitable or competent],” wrote Nanci Lee Woody of Roseville, CA. “Who could have imagined the rewriting of history, the assault on books and on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion [DEI]?” From East Falmouth, MA, Nina Carroll added, “Private universities yield to edicts, revise values, grovel. Funds withdrawn in a form of blackmailing. Free speech too expensive to risk. . . .More than a quarter of a million brains lost from firing, buying out, early retiring, or borders barring entry . . .”

“As a musician, writer, and arts lover, seeing grants wiped out, institutions like the Kennedy Center taken over (and previous Board members forced to resign), public education gutted, the wonderful Librarian of Congress dismissed, PBS/NPR threatened, it’s easy to feel hopeless,” Nan Rush of Albuquerque, NM wrote. But, like so many others whose Forum contributions you’ll read below, she urges us to “Keep resisting: …If you’re a songwriter, fight back like Springsteen. Be a ‘gorilla girl.’” Denise Beck-Clark of Yonkers, NY, agrees: “…fight. Not with guns, but with creativity and our minds, as we dare the fascists to put us down. In the words of the late rocker, Tom Petty, ‘[We] won’t back down.’”

Recently, well after our call for Forum contributions went out, newspapers reported that President Trump has attempted to fire the director of the National Portrait Gallery, part of the Smithsonian Institution, apparently for being “a strong supporter of DEI.” (The director, Kim Sajet, has since resigned, to relieve, some posit, the political pressure on the multifaceted Smithsonian.) If such actions continue without effective restraint, what lasting effects will this have on the United States—and the countries every U.S. action, and inaction, influence? And are there not even more profound questions associated with the restrictions on knowledge and the arts already in effect in many countries and now being attempted by the current government of the United States? Looking at the course of current human events—including in this country, previously known as a (deeply flawed) bastion of inclusiveness and freedom of expression, Clair Reutter of Austin, TX, wrote how necessary it is to “recognize our common humanity above creed, race, country of origin, and gender politics. Until then, I am haunted by a question I cannot erase from my heart: If Anne Frank were alive today, would she still say that people are basically good?”

Perhaps Claire will lean toward a positive answer when she reads this Forum, with our readers’ many expressions of compassion, outrage, and determination to fight against actions deemed unjust and dangerous. We thank all the women who answered our Forum call and regret that it wasn’t possible for us to include every contribution we received. We urge everyone who wishes to join in this vital discussion to do so via the comment pane at the end of the Forum.
 

she shares banned books by the escambia seashore, collage 2025 by Flalala Sandytime, composed of artist’s handmade political button, afixed to child’s fabric doll in artist’s collection, placed on previously torn page of a 1940s Merriam-Webster dictionary, a publishing company whose references were pulled from public schools in Escambia County, Florida.

There’s nothing agreeable about Trump’s policies demolishing Education, Fine Arts, and socio-cultural knowledge acquisition in America. What was once the slow and steady work of dumbing down Americans is now a matter of serious urgency. MAGA on steroids in order to perfect sub-mediocrity in our citizenship–a ship I consider abandoning.

But I positively love what used to be America. I loved having the freedoms we had—especially the freedom to fight like hell working through America’s serious imperfections. Civil rights and DEI were hard-fought battles. What is one to do when, with a stroke of the pen, the current Administration abolishes those legislative advances providing access to the American dream, mythical as it may be?

I’m an American elder on a fixed income, with a fixed amount of health and energy. However, I have a few strokes of the pen left in me and I am using them in all ways possible to fight back. Further, I make my way into protest gatherings in order to be part of the head count. Finally, this Original Gangsta Grandma makes herself available to all who wish to discuss, calmly and peacefully, the present nightmare unfolding around us.

The Arts are under siege. The Trump Administration follows the playbook of totalitarian leaders, crushing any creative force expressing dissent. The National Endowment for the Arts and National Endowment for the Humanities are on the chopping block.

The NEA not only eliminated its challenge grants for “underserved communities” but also rescinded previously awarded grants.

As a volunteer grant writer for a nonprofit supporting young artists in Detroit, I witnessed funding prospects evaporate when the NEA revised its guidelines to exclude any project espousing DEI values. The Michigan Humanities Council also eliminated its grant program, which would have funded student-led exhibits honoring Detroit artists. Yet we are fortunate that the private philanthropic community in Michigan is responsive; several major foundations pledged to redouble commitments to support projects that endeavor to level the playing field for low-income communities and artists of color. Tragically, not all communities have these resources.

A sandstorm of calls to Washington will not instill courage in political leaders who fear losing power more than rich, cultural diversity. What will preserve our freedom of expression is happening in schools and libraries, local theatre and performing arts centers. With grit and perseverance, We the People will prevail.
 

An unmarked black car slides up along the sidewalk. Dark windows. A purring engine. Your heart beats. Try to look calm. You are a writer. You write about freedom. You speak up about justice. Have they come for you?

Keep walking. Gently swing your shopping bag with the tulips and leafy vegetables. Hum a careless song. Turn a corner, look over your shoulder. Three men appear, in dark clothes and black masks. They surround an olive-skinned young man with red sneakers and a computer bag. Passers-by freeze. Someone calls out his name. A masked man takes a step toward her, and she moves behind others. You see handcuffs; the men force the student forward, twisting his arms behind him. The back door of the car slides open, the young man disappears, the door slides shut. The car drives down the avenue.

You walk. You try to breathe. You can’t see where you’re going. It does not matter. You’re free – for how long? What will we choose? Freedom? Or speech? For some, the choice is riskier. I must speak, even if any day, the dark car might come and find me, or any one of us.
 

Even now I walk the dog, morning chill. I drink coffee at Spyhouse, hesitate over words. A young woman with a backpack grabs her coffee, runs out the door for her bus. Miles away in New York, my grandson catches the subway for school. I skim along days, waiting for wars to end. Now, twilight at noon, ICE comes for children with accents who sit behind school desks. Melancholy deepens.

Even now I feel bereft by what is done in our name. Yet, I buy a chicken for Sunday. My brother walks his garden in North Carolina, digging up potatoes, assembling tomatoes for mountain villagers after the floods. As ICE waits at library doors, cooks hide in closets; some go underground. Sorrow pulls me lowdown. Blues, just right.

Even now friends talk of moving: Ghana, Costa Rica, anywhere that welcomes brown skin .

A found poem flutters from the hand of a boy who is carried away: a rhyme there in his yearning, a verse in his eviction.

I turn to you, and you, and you. Tell me: your days, your songs. March with me. Write. Even now we feed children, plant zucchini. We do the work together.
 

Abortion Rage, mixed media collage by Paula Bernstein, Los Angeles, CA.
An ob-gyn, Bernstein here employs art to express outrage about what she terms “the Roe v. Wade debacle.”

I moved to London nine years ago, the start of Trump I. Little did I know how fortunate I’d be, living outside the U.S. as Trump II ravages the world order.

This clamp-down on freedom of expression plays out in the UK, a spillover from the hugeness of U.S. dominance. The UK is also moving rightward, taking its own measures to stifle dissent. Anti-immigrant rhetoric, harassing protestors, ignoring climate catastrophe. There’s no escaping the U.S. It’s pulling other countries towards authoritarianism.

Watching from abroad doesn’t lessen the shock of an unhinged president’s daily assaults on freedom. What would have been unthinkable ten years ago is the new normal. The danger is that we become inured, letting despair morph into indifference.

As an elder, I doubt I’ll be around long enough to witness a rebirth. But this is no excuse for futility. I write, and I work with Gazans, fighting against the part of me which wants to shut down.

In these despair-inducing times, we need to keep doing our work. Creativity is crucial to fighting off totalitarianism before it becomes entrenched reality. We won’t halt this wave entirely, but we can slow it down until the tides turn once again.
 

There is an old story about six blind men and an elephant. Each one touches a different part and thinks it is the whole. One mistakes a leg for a tree. The tusk for a spear. The tail, a rope.

Like these blind men, we each hold a fragment of reality and think it is the whole. Then we limit our relationships to those holding the same part. So “tree” people want nothing to do with “rope” people or “spear” people.

Why do we do that? Why do we disparage those who have different views? Why believe that those who disagree are fools or villains?

Are we afraid of hearing another point of view? Families, friendships, colleagues…so many relationships are getting thrown under the bus because of differences.

But isn’t our uniqueness a wonder and a gift? Can we honor this gift by giving respect? Let’s widen our scope and learn to see the whole elephant.

We elder women are powerful. We are meant to be the healers. We can choose to heal this tear in our fabric. We can choose to use our wisdom and experience by approaching each other with honest curiosity and humility, and without judgment.
 

Thirty-eight and thirty-five years ago I gave birth to a boy and a girl. My husband and I raised them with books full of creative and factual stories. We encouraged art and creative play. We told them they could grow up and help the animals, the earth, the planet, as they grew older and began to learn about climate change. We told them that going to college would make a difference in their lives. But as parents, did we lie?

The children of today are feeling cheated out of a world that supports who they are as artists and writers and creative thinkers. Now they’re learning there is no point in trying because AI will do it all for them. There is no point in going to college and becoming a part of the solution because there’ll be no financial support from their government for jobs in their field. As a society, did we lie?

Is money the only thing that matters now? Do we still live in a free country? We said “you can be whatever you want to be” but did we lie? We have to speak words of hope to our children; but are these words lies?
 

My outrage courses through my brain like never-ending tinnitus, fueling my days with fury. I’ve read that this is a growing phenomenon, especially in our hyper-connected digital age. Yes, my political outrage is a thing.

Each morning, I check the news and social media for the latest despicable happening. I drink my coffee and nod my head, watching TV as the commentators volley their banter. I simultaneously scroll through The New York Times, hunting for more headlines. More to feed the flames. I know this isn’t healthy, but I compulsively keep going.

I check my social media for updates. The players are my community. At night, I listen to podcasts for my final hit, my closure. I shut my eyes, soothed and comforted that I’m on the “right side.”

Should I let it go, try for a calmer life? Is my illusion of control and righteousness wearing me down? There are many reasons to look away.

But wait, my outrage is justified. I feel things changing. My outrage addiction is morphing into something more profound. Grief. Grief for my country that may not recover. Grief for a self I no longer recognize.
 

Merchandise in the National Portrait Gallery shop, Washington, DC. Photograph by M. E. Wagner, May 30, 2025.

In an August 27, 1952 speech [to the American Legion Convention in New York City], Adlai Stevenson stated, “When an American says that he loves his country, he means not only that he loves the New England hills, the prairies glistening in the sun, the wide and rising plains, the great mountains and the sea. He means that he loves an inner air, an inner light in which freedom lives and in which a man can draw the breath of self-respect.”  

This Forum and others stir up the fires of freedom. The courts, the Congress, and the press are all vital. Whatever you do, keep talking, writing, and raving against the abuses of power abounding across the American landscape today: the firing of federal employees, pardoning criminals, deporting innocent foreigners, limiting the rights of women and LGBTQ people, banning books, underfunding education, museums, libraries, NPR, PBS, the National Parks, the NIH, and the CDC, and appointing counterproductive politicians to run many of these organizations.

Use your creative impulses to tell the truth, and your precious votes to elect honest and worthy leaders. And hold onto your inner light where freedom lives.
 

In the UK we may not be in the eye of the storm but we are definitely in its trail. I remember watching the Capitol Hill riots on TV and thinking that democracy’s final days had come. And here we are again, with a Catherine Wheel of a politician, always in action, master of the soundbite, signing a cascade of cruel and divisive edicts attacking and destroying hard-won rights and culture while creating suffering overseas at the flick of a pen. What next? A return to Nazi Germany where the most creative and innovative people leave, never to return, impoverishing U.S. culture and research.

Over here we have Nigel Farage, Trump’s pal, triumphantly becoming a contender instead of an outsider, who now has a blueprint for his own future assaults on cultural ideals and freedoms.

In the U.S., please continue to publicize, mobilize protests and bear witness about what is happening in the name of the American people… If the Statue of Liberty is returning to France as one witty meme claims, by now she must be sprinting with Pastor Martin Niemoller’s prophetic words ringing in her ears.
 

 
Without freedom of thought there can be no such thing as wisdom; and no such thing as public liberty, without freedom of speech. Benjamin Franklin

When you hear an interview between any news journalist and a spokesperson from Harvard University, remember that this is about much more than Harvard University. It’s about all U.S. institutions of higher learning. It’s about research and publishing, the free flow of ideas and information. It’s about the freedom to read and to think and to express one’s viewpoints. It’s about healthy debate and the exchange of ideas. It’s about authoritarianism vs. democracy.

Only in authoritarian regimes are universities told what to teach, whom to admit and what ideologies are acceptable. If Harvard loses, we all lose.

We educate more of the world’s students than any other nation. It is to our advantage that foreign students wish to come here. Education is our number one export. Let’s keep it that way!

Freedom of speech is a principal pillar of a free government; when this support is taken away, the constitution of a free society is dissolved, and tyranny is erected on its ruins. Benjamin Franklin
 

Research. Reopen a topic and search it again. It’s what writers of all kinds do before and during the writing process. It is essential to good writing. Even writing that is poetic or fanciful must feel real, based on a framework of factual knowledge.

In this time of “disorder and early sorrow” (Thomas Mann) I am researching examples of the rise of authoritarianism in the not-so-distant past, and I encourage others to do the same. This research makes me fearful, therefore vigilant. It strengthens my resolve to push back against forces that limit or even deny our “…freedom to learn, to discuss and debate, to conduct research for the betterment of humanity, to write, paint, and perform…” (Persimmon Tree, submission prompt)

My research reminds me that the arts were controlled by the preferences of the government under Nazism and during Mao’s Cultural Revolution. It reminds me that this type of suppression still exists and now has found its way into my own country and its policies.

I encourage, I beg, those around me, especially those who are not worried about what is happening to the arts in the United States–do the research! Encourage those who may not see what is happening to do the same.
 

Fight Back!, drawing in pen, ink and pencil, by Sandy Morris, Oakland, CA.

I have observed all the way from Australia—and with mounting horror—the turn of events in the United States. My partner is a U.S. citizen, so we both follow the news avidly.

In this country, we have just voted in a majority left-of-center Labor government. It is generally agreed that we do not want “Trumpian” politics to be transported here. The best I can think of in response to the repressive moves of the right or to the right in your fine nation is to hold your ground and believe. Do whatever you can that feels right and effective in taking up arms “against a sea of troubles.” This may be protest, writing, speaking with others, holding forums, messaging representatives, and even prayer (to the good gods).

As a wise man once told me in my protests against nearly everything, especially the war in Vietnam: “M, you must enjoy yourself. Only do it if it feels good.” I see now that he was correct. Remember, there are more of you, and… things will get better.
 

Shock, dismay, and anger fill my heart, soul, and every pore in my body. This cannot be happening. But it is. This cannot be America. But it is. Our freedoms are essential to improve the planet—to fund research, to write, draw, perform, to offer mental health services, to help those who do not have a voice. This list goes on. And on. This is what humanity is about.

There is only one way to combat our rights being taken away and that is to fight back. To continue doing what we are doing. To keep on keeping on.

We must write, draw, perform, research, and emphasize our cultural and intellectual life. Creativity enables growth and connection. If we stop, we will shrivel, not only as women but humans; not only in the United States but globally. By continuing to do what we do, we are showing support for one another. We are standing in solidarity.

 
We must take a step back and examine how we got here. Our society is broken. Authoritarians stepped into the void. The new regime is gutting to their foundations our institutions and social mores. Do we really want to just kick them out and return to where we left off? What if, instead, we reimagine America?

The Constitution provides a sound framework. We’ve neglected our duty to educate our citizens about it. This delivered an opening for interlopers to step in. They did a thorough job describing, in Project 2025, what they believe our nation should become. Americans who object to the destruction of democracy must do more than complain about cruelty and lawlessness. We can do a better job of illuminating the vision of the Founders, explaining what that means in today’s America, and laying out a blueprint of how to get there. Opportunity knocks. We the People must answer.
 

 
Despite history teachers’ emphasis on wars and Men of Power, I was curious about ordinary Black and White women and men of the past. But they weren’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t realize my hunger for a different kind of history until I attended a women’s luncheon, years after my schooling. The speaker was a woman who taught history at Harvard. Tears filled my eyes. She was talking about my history—albeit, a White woman’s history.

After that I read books by James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker. On TV I watched as Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, and four Black girls killed inside a Birmingham church made history.

On March 27 the president signed “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.” The executive order asserts that “revisionist history”—that is, racist and sexist faults in our past—destroys national unity.

Mr. President, I beg to differ. Teaching the history of oppressed groups allows us to learn from their resiliency, courage, and intellect. Can we not celebrate how we all—Black and White, female and male—have the capacity to act with heroism?

State of the Arts, pen and watercolor by Susan Pollet, New York, NY. This sculpture, located on Fifth Avenue across from the Frick Collection, was carved by Daniel Chester French (famous for the Lincoln Memorial) and installed in 1898. It represents “Painting” and exemplifies the importance of art in our lives.

 
Apparently, under the current regime, simple caring for others is “woke,” and education, women’s rights, and all aspects of the arts are under attack. As a lifelong educator and writer, to say I am appalled is an understatement. So many of us feel helpless under this onslaught of insanity. What can we do about such mindless cruelty when the courts seem ineffectual and Congress seems content to allow the brutality to continue unchecked?

We need to campaign for social justice and advocate for the rights of women and minorities. We can protest on the streets and in written communication. We can write to and call our elected representatives often. Let them hear our discontent and fear of our country being stolen by a heartless oligarchy. Vote! Budgetary attacks on education, childcare, programs for the elderly, and the arts are simply cruel and have no basis in a country with a conscience. Be an advocate for common sense in this country we love. Join organizations that support education and the arts. Let’s make our country kind and intelligent again and advocate for true liberty and justice for all.
 

 
It is shocking to see the bullying behavior of the U.S. administration, which comes across more as a dictatorship than an authority with responsibility and concern for all its people. Those who toe the line, or have the same principles and behavior, are favored; others don’t matter.

What is happening in the U.S. affects us all because the widespread value that many seem to worship is money. Are we witnessing an epidemic of greed? Although shocking in itself, do we need a total financial crash to remove the control of dictators and bring back sanity and balance? This would be the great leveler, releasing many from the “hamster wheel of life” with all its burdens, stresses, and pain, and encouraging more thought and changed behavior. Individuality could be appreciated and enjoyed; creative minds could share their gift of expression.

It is hard to think of an alternative action other than being true to ourselves and standing up for what we believe in, demonstrating strength both individually and when we come together. Perhaps events beyond all our control will ultimately have the final say, allowing us to find understanding from our past and hope for our future.  
 

Throughout human history those with hearts gripped by fear and wrath have tried oppressing the arts, free thought, and the free exchange of ideas.

They have their day. They cause a lot of trouble before they scurry back into the dark caves from which they emerged, bloated with the fatal flaws of grandiosity, greed, and entitlement.

But we turn our scars into lanterns to light the way forward. Civilization progresses. There is always a striving for greater genius, for awesome beauty. The human spirit will not be denied. It’s always been like that for us.

I am reminded of Vincent in his set-backs. While he was recovering in the asylum, the nurses brought him his paints and his canvases so he could carry on. We see the peace in Bedroom in Arles.

And Shakespeare scribbling away in secret, living dangerously, at risk of losing his Catholic head in Protestant only England. We hear his words: Hope is a lover’s staff; walk hence with that. And manage it against despairing thoughts.
 

The Resistance Painter

by Kath Jonathan

    The Resistance Painter is a gripping novel of wartime betrayal and survival. A Globe and Mail and Toronto Star instant best seller, it has been called "timely and timeless" by Janet Sommerville in the Toronto Star and recommended on CBC Books. At the heart of the story beats a question as urgently relevant today as it was eighty-five years ago: How do we live with integrity and compassion in the middle of a war? The novel introduces us to Jo, a young sculptor in 2010 Toronto who specializes in interviewing dying people in order to make a stylized sculpture for their grave sites. When her new client Stefan tells a life story eerily similar to her grandmother's wartime history, Jo digs for answers, catapulting the novel back into Warsaw 1939 when her grandmother Irena was a young woman faced with a brutal Nazi occupation. Irena and her sister Lotka must decide how to survive while helping family, friends and country. Irena joins the Polish resistance and becomes expert at conducting people through the dangerous sewers of Warsaw. Her sister Lotka follows a different path. She becomes a surgical nurse whose skill is respected by occupiers as well as resistors. Irena survives to become a lauded artist, whose stark, tender paintings hold terrifying secrets, while Jo discovers a voice and a family she never knew she had. For more about the author: www.kathjonathanauthor.com. Available from Bookshop, Amazon and your local independent bookstore  

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