I felt a similar pang again last week when the streets of New York erupted into a masked, outdoor dance party following the electoral results. I've never felt more like a coward just staring at screens. I spent the summer watching cities march against systemic injustice from the quiet safety of my home office, far away from tear gas and rubber bullets. Because I live with someone science deems "high-risk" for a deadly airborne disease, I've stayed home in New Jersey for most of 2020.
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