On May 1st, 1994, Ayrton Senna crashed and died during the San Marino Grand Prix. I recall watching the race with my dad in our sitting room in France, he was home from the hospital after a heavy bout of chemo and the loss of one of his heroes bought him to tears. A few months later, in December, he died too.
Close to 25 years later, a few weeks ago, his father passed away. In many ways, he was the father I never really had the luxury of having, pushing me into various sports, teaching me to read a clock, to speak to strangers and so much more.
It’s hard to see the rise of hateful father figures in society like Jordan Peterson. Cheerily leading vulnerable young white men towards paths of intolerance and hatred for others in the name of a quick buck. When simple advice like “clean your room” gets passed alongside race baiting “Race IQ” lies and society turns inwards and backwards, sparking intolerance and attacks towards women, the LGBTQ+ community and more.
What are we to do with all the angry young white men?
Last night I saw Henry Rollins speak for the first time, he seemed possessed of a wild sense of optimism. I’m going to try some of that too.