Tragedy Is Not a Talking Point

How We Failed Grief, and How We Can Still Rebuild

Greetings, my radiant rebels,

You’ve made it to Wednesday. The week is halfway through—go ahead and award yourself a gold star for adulting and for making it to the tea table, where we sip strength and serve truths that sometimes sting.

Whether it’s your first time joining us for a cup of courage in this ethereal garden, or you’re a familiar face returning, you are welcome. Here, we honor your voice and your presence. Here, we celebrate you.

Today’s post will be brief, but vital. It concerns the tragedy currently gripping national attention—the flash flooding in Texas that has already claimed dozens of lives, many of them children. Others remain missing. Thousands have been displaced.

First and foremost, my heart goes out to the families and loved ones affected. There are no words I can weave, no story I can craft, that will erase the pain of futures stolen and dreams drowned. Nothing will undo that loss.

But there is something that must be said—something I can say to the multiple media personalities who took this opportunity to storm the airwaves and social threads with cheap, hateful clickbait.

I say this not as a partisan, but as a person:

We. Do. Not. Politicize. A. Tragedy.

Full stop.

This is not an opportunity to score rhetorical points or prove a smug "I told you so." To suggest that Texans “got what they voted for” is not strategy—it is cruelty masquerading as insight. Those affected most by this tragedy didn’t vote for either party. They were young. They were innocent. They were what the whole conversation is about—the future of our nation.

At best, such messaging communicates disdain. At worst, it implies celebration. And in no version of this reality should that be the message we send to grieving communities.

What’s more—many of these early, angry claims were simply wrong.

Warnings were issued. Emergency staff were deployed. On-the-ground action did take place. While there is very real accountability to pursue in the days ahead, accuracy matters—and timing matters even more.

To those I see posting from a place of fear—I do see you.

I see your hearts breaking under the weight of once-in-a-lifetime storms that are no longer once-in-a-lifetime. I hear your urgent worry over cuts to climate preparedness and the gutting of public infrastructure. I hear your cries that this will happen again, and worse, unless we act.

But guess what?

No one else heard that part.

All they could hear was the accusation. All they could feel was the shame. And that is what they will remember.

In that fragile window—when solidarity might have opened hearts—you slammed the door.

Had you waited just a moment longer, had you grieved with those who grieve, you could have joined the righteous chorus now beginning to rise.

Yesterday and today, as the floodwaters slowly receded, Texas officials are already spinning blame—pointing fingers at forecasting and failure, when they themselves defunded the very systems designed to warn and protect. That’s for those Texas figures who weren’t already busy with vacation plans in Greece, visiting the Parthenon and seeing democracy’s early proving grounds—too busy to defend their own, much less make time for the grieving families they represent.

That was the moment to speak. With the right reframing, you might even have made an impact. For example:

Extreme weather events are no longer rare.
And any government that claims to serve life, liberty, or the pursuit of happiness must fund the tools that keep its people safe.
Period.

If you wanted a personal attack, you could literally run ads with almost no words—just a split screen of the Senator at the Parthenon and images of the devastation in his home state. Follow it with a line: “While the Senator is enjoying vacation, the rest of us are dealing with reality.” Then drop a number to donate or get involved with relief efforts.

People always remember, before anything else, how you made them feel. You didn’t need to say anything—Ted Cruz vacationing while they mucked about in the heat and searched for the bodies of loved ones said all it needed to. And those officials who came out to pass the buck to people who did the best they could with the money the government gave them? That line echoes what we’ve heard from corporate America, blaming overworked managers for dissatisfaction, while starving them on wages and offering no benefits. We know the hollow ring—and so would those in Texas.

Instead, however, you felt the need to open your mouth to shout “I told you so,” and everyone stopped listening. You alienated the right—both far right and center. You left a bad taste in the mouths of moderates and independents. For those on the left, you managed once again to pull us onto ground we have no business fighting on in the first place, mired in the mess you created.

As for this author—those who quoted these positions and jumped to conclusions on both sides—you simply left me disappointed. Disappointed that once again we missed an opportunity for community, for solidarity, for bringing us together.

So let us do now what should have been done from the start: hold space. Hold the grief. Hold the line. And when the noise dies down, when the waters recede and the headlines change—may we still be here, not with barbs, but with bricks to help rebuild.

Not every storm is a metaphor. Some are just storms.
And some wounds need bandages more than they need battle cries.

“We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.”
—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

We are not helpless. And we are not hopeless. But we must choose again, and choose better.

If you can—I urge you to get involved.

💧 What You Can Do Right Now

1. Support Relief Efforts for Flood Victims
   The Kerr County Flood Relief Fund is a reputable organization taking donations that assists in rebuilding efforts in the most affected areas. A little kindness goes a long way when the waters rise.

2. World Central Kitchen is on the ground right now getting meals to those affected in Texas, in Gaza, and around the world. They need money. They need Volunteers.

3. Want to help your furry friends? I have just the thing: Austin Pets Alive! has taken in over 150 animals and counting from areas affected by flooding. They are primarily asking for monetary donations but they have also requested flea and tick meds, vaccines, plastic airline kennels for medium to large dogs, potty pads, dawn dish soap, as well as other supplies. They need fosters, and adopters, where ever they may come from.

4. Push for Preparedness, Not Just Prayers
   Learn more about how climate shifts are reshaping disaster response at Climate Signals. Then, call your state and federal reps to demand resilient infrastructure and early-warning systems—before the next emergency.

5. Share this post, so other people know how they too can get involved.

Let’s stop beating each other over the head, and let’s start building that community.

If you really need something to talk about, why don’t you start promoting ways to get involved and help out?

Remember: sometimes, the next bold move—
is well-placed silence.

~ Lady LiberTea ✨🫖

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