Why I Write
After thinking and speaking, writing is the ultimate expression of freedom.
Untangling the Knot: Writing My Truth in a Fractured America
Since launching Compass Star Wordsmith on Substack in December 2021, I’ve poured my soul into over 275 posts, building a community of more than 500 subscribers who, like me, are grappling with a world that feels like it’s splintering. Each word is a raw attempt to navigate the cultural and political earthquake that’s been shaking America since 2015—a year that knotted politics, culture, and identity into a tangle that’s only tightened since. Writing is my lifeline, my rebellion against a world that demands I conform to its polarized script. Through Compass Star Wordsmith, I’m not just documenting this chaos—I’m calling bullshit on the lies of “polite society” and inviting you to join me in untangling the mess, one honest story at a time.
the capability to express one’s innermost thoughts or outermost expressions in a written form using letters strung together to construct words that evolve into sentences stacked together as paragraphs, to convey a coherent story to move or persuade, obeying no rules other than spelling and grammar, is one of the most liberating exercises in human history. we are privileged to honor this tradition. join with this community to express yourself.
The Hinge of 2015
I can’t pinpoint exactly (ahem) why 2015 feels like the hinge, but it’s when the ground shifted. Donald Trump’s campaign hit like a wrecking ball, exposing divisions that were always there but suddenly impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just politics—culture got sucked into the vortex. Social media, especially Facebook and Twitter-turned-X, megaphoned every issue into a battlefield. Having an opinion wasn’t enough; I felt pressure to signal my entire identity through it. Friends drifted apart over posts about candidates or policies. At work, colleagues tiptoed around topics that once felt safe, afraid of being labeled “that person.” Family dinners became minefields—one wrong word could spark a firestorm.
Then COVID-19 slammed into us, tightening the knot. From 2020 to 2022, debates over masks, vaccines, and lockdowns became new fronts in the culture war, often splitting along political lines. As I wrote in posts about navigating life’s desolation, the pandemic mirrored my own isolation. Choices about health measures became identity markers, dividing neighbors and friends. A 2021 YouGov poll found that 20% of Americans ended friendships over political differences since 2016, and COVID debates likely pushed that higher. Dating apps instructed potential dates to swipe left if of the wrong thought. (and I thought “swipe left if under 6’1” was bullshit!)
I saw it firsthand—relationships frayed over vaccine status or masking, each choice a political statement. Workplaces grew tenser, with policies like vaccine and mask mandates fueling conflict. A 2021 SHRM survey noted 56% of employees felt their workplace had become more polarized since 2016, and I lived that reality in every strained conversation.
This knot of politics, culture, and public health changed how I live. I’ve lost connections—not in blowouts, but in quiet unfollows over posts about masks or election fraud. I’ve felt the weight of proving myself, as if my worth hinges on picking the right side of an endless argument. But through it all, I kept writing.
Calling Bullshit on “Polite Society”
In a 2021 post, Is Comedy Safer Now?, I wrote about how my Gen X roots taught me to call bullshit on “polite society.”
“Grown-ups always talked about ‘Polite Society’ and bent over backwards to live by those never-specific, always-changing and completely heretofore unknown by us rules. As a child, growing up in our broken homes, with alcoholic and abusive, often absent parents, we called bullshit. I think we got our Gen X persona from that. Our parents were trying to live up to the idyllic life their Greatest parents created. And they failed miserably.”
Grown-ups (the “adults” in our lives were not always our “biological parents”) preached about its rules—never consistent, seemingly spontaneous, and impossible to follow. As kids in broken homes with absent or abusive parents, we saw through the facade. Our parents chased an idyllic life they couldn’t sustain, and we inherited their skepticism. That Gen X persona—raw, real, and allergic to hypocrisy—drives Compass Star Wordsmith. It’s why I resonate with a comment from Dr. Emil Schaffhausen (for reasons he may disagree with) on a recent USA Today article: “One of Trump’s most profound impacts on our politics is that he made indecent people think they no longer had to pretend to be decent in order to be accepted into polite society.” (my emphasis) Those who embraced depravity didn’t suddenly become that. They just stopped hiding their true nature.”
The Myth of “Normalcy”
I hear it all the time: “Once Trump’s gone, things will go back to normal.” But what does “normal” even mean? The ‘70s, when I was a kid ping-ponging between parents who never divorced but were always at war? The ‘80s, when I drowned my pain in coke, clubbing, and hookups? The ‘90s, when I was a struggling parent in a crumbling marriage, waking up each day unsure of what came next? Those decades weren’t exactly a golden age. Even pre-2015, before every conversation felt like a minefield, America was fracturing. Social media was sorting us into tribes, trust in institutions was eroding, and we were retreating into echo chambers. Trump didn’t start that; he just turned up the volume. COVID made it deafening, with every decision—get the shot, wear a mask, stay home—becoming a political statement.
The hope for “normalcy” is a mirage. The pandemic exposed how fragile our shared reality is, with conflicting public health messages sowing distrust. A 2023 Gallup poll showed that 71% of Americans believe political correctness has gone too far, yet cultural battles over identity, health policies, and education persist. Even now, in 2025, the scars of COVID linger—distrust in institutions, economic precarity, and ongoing debates about vaccine efficacy and public health measures. The aforementioned USA opinion piece, “Thanks, Supreme Court! It's now my right to prevent my kid from learning about Trump,” satirizes a 2025 Supreme Court ruling allowing parents to opt out of certain educational content, warning of “chaos in schools” (PEN America). It’s a stark reminder: we can’t rewind to a time when we all agreed on what America should be. The mistrust, the economic struggles, the cultural wars—they’re not going anywhere, no matter who’s in office.
Transparency: A Double-Edged Sword
In the over 2.5k comments of that USA piece, I must highlight again the words Dr. Schaffhausen wrote, “One of Trump's most profound impacts on our politics is that he made indecent people think they no longer had to pretend to be decent in order to be accepted into polite society. Those who embraced depravity didn’t suddenly become that. They just stopped hiding their true nature.”
It’s a bold and illuminating opinion the bifurcates political divide - who are these “indecent people” that “embraced depravity” and are they really accepted into “polite society”? No, they are not. But here is the difference the past decade created: “indecent people” that “embraced depravity” just stopped considering what “polite society” cared about. And this alone changed the world.
The fine doctor frames this much more “politely” than say Hillary’s “deplorables’ or Uncle Joe’s “garbage”, but still suggesting Trump’s influence has eroded civility by emboldening unfiltered, “indecent” and depraved expression.
I see another side. For too long, “polite society” demanded we all play a part—say the “correct” thing, hide our true feelings, and paper over our doubts with platitudes. Politicians mastered this, spinning lies behind polished smiles. That hypocrisy, that disconnect between words and truth, is part of what fueled Trump’s rise. People were fed up with being lied to, with a system that felt rigged behind closed doors.
Trump’s unfiltered style—love it or hate it—cracked that facade. It gave people permission to say what they really think, even if it’s messy, controversial, or “indecent.” And isn’t that transparency a good thing? When people hide their true selves, we get a society built on lies—politicians promising unity while sowing division, institutions preaching fairness while protecting their own. The backlash against “polite society” isn’t just about Trump; it’s about a hunger for authenticity in a world that feels fake. Sure, transparency can amplify division—Schaffhausen’s not wrong about that. But it also exposes truth, letting us see where we stand and who we’re dealing with. It’s a starting point for real conversation, even if it’s messy.
Writing as My Compass
Compass Star Wordsmith is my rebellion against that hypocrisy. It’s my sanctuary in a world that demands I pick a team—red, blue, pro-mask, anti-vax—and stick to the script. Every post is a chance to reflect, question, and connect with readers who feel the same disorientation I do. Writing lets me cut through the noise of a world where everyone is judged by their place “on the spectrum” at any given moment. As I wrote in my June 2022 post, Open Letter to Gen-X: #7 - Authentic, “Something about us [Gen X] just reeks reality.” That authenticity drives my work. It’s about staying true to my experiences, whether I’m wrestling with imposter syndrome or drawing inspiration from Jack White’s raw, multifaceted creativity.
Writing is my way of rejecting the pressure to conform to a polarized world’s expectations. It’s where I document the quiet drifts—friends lost over a post about vaccines, family dinners where I bite my tongue to keep the peace, workplaces where self-censorship has become second nature. But on Substack, I don’t have to censor myself. I can say what I see, feel what I feel, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into a camp. My post Was Gonna Post My Usual Shit; Dropping the Deuce became a reader favorite because it was raw, unfiltered, and real. It showed me that my voice—flawed, messy, Gen X—resonates.
THANK YOU!
Substack’s Complex Landscape
Substack is a double-edged sword. It gives me freedom to write authentically, but it’s also been criticized as a home to “voices spreading misinformation”, especially about COVID-19, as noted in articles like Substack Is Profiting Off Anti-Mask and Anti-Vaccine Newsletters.
It’s also been accused of harboring Nazis. It’s been fascinating to watch “polite society” finally accept the cliche “If you can’t beat’em, join’em”.
I’m mindful of that responsibility. My goal isn’t to add to the noise but to offer a perspective that fosters understanding, even in disagreement. Authenticity doesn’t mean recklessness—it means sharing my truth while respecting the complexity of others’ experiences. My 500+ subscribers aren’t just numbers; they’re people who, like me, are searching for meaning in a world where trust is scarce and division is the default.
Why I Keep Writing
Compass Star Wordsmith is my way of making sense of it all—Trump, COVID, the fractured friendships, the tense workplaces, the myth of “normal.” It’s where I untangle the knot of politics, culture, and the lingering scars of a pandemic that showed us how fragile our connections are. The pandemic taught me that life is unpredictable, and our relationships are more brittle than we think. But it also showed me the power of storytelling. As I wrote about Jack White’s journey, navigating the “trials and tribulations” of life parallels my own—writing is my craft, my way of building something enduring in a world that keeps shifting.
I don’t know if my writing bridges divides or just captures them, but it feels necessary. It’s my way of saying: this is what I see, this is what I feel, and maybe we can find a way forward together. Even as COVID’s shadow fades, its lessons linger: we’re more divided than ever, but I’m still here, writing my truth, hoping it resonates. My posts aren’t about preaching or picking fights; they’re about inviting you to join me in asking questions, in staying real, in rejecting the pressure to conform.
A Path Forward
In a world unmoored, writing keeps me grounded. It’s my Gen X rebellion—question everything, stay real, and don’t fall for the mirage of “normalcy.” Compass Star Wordsmith is my invitation to you: whether you’re lost in the noise, frustrated by the fractures, or just searching for meaning, come write with me. Share your story, your truth, your questions. Maybe we won’t untangle the knot completely, but together, we can find a way to navigate it.
Ric
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You have a new fan Ric. I really can't stand how writers feel obliged to operate at the extremes all the time for clicks or whatnot, so your piece was refreshing. I was just lamenting this earlier today while chatting with a friend. I think everyone's just going for the serotonin rush or whatever it is that comes along with extremes. The middle isn't very sexy but it's where sanity lies, ultimately. A piece like this one should be required reading here.
This is why I love you, Ric.
You’ve got a heart that I admire, all differences aside.
I’m also digging your playlist.