The Distorted Mirror

The other night, I was watching Real Time with Bill Maher when he called young men “pussies” for not courting women the way men “used to.” The audience laughed — a familiar blend of relief and superiority. I didn’t feel angry. Just tired.

Not because Bill said something offensive, but because even someone like him — smart, successful, and historically liberal — has started to get pulled toward the same gravitational center that drags the rest of us in. The distorted mirror.

That mirror shows us a world of deep divides, of sides that can’t coexist, of generations that are failing each other. It tells us the story of decay, of “us” versus “them.” And when we stare long enough, we start to see what it wants us to see: caricatures instead of people, trends instead of complexity, blame instead of curiosity.

But here’s what’s harder to grasp — this isn’t happening by accident. There are algorithms behind the curtain, testing what makes us react, what keeps us watching, what sells. Entire economies depend on our outrage. And the more we feed them, the less we notice how much our emotions are being shaped, even monetized.

What gets lost is the quiet truth that we’re far more alike than the system allows us to believe. Most people want stability, love, purpose, a sense that they matter. The narratives that divide us make that easy to forget — but they don’t change it.

Maybe that’s where we start: by remembering that when someone says something absurd or outdated or cruel, it’s not proof of evil. It’s just another reflection in a mirror designed to keep us staring.

I don’t have a one-size-fits-all solution. But maybe the first step is to resist the reflex to be outraged at our neighbors — and instead ask, what might they be afraid of, or longing for, that isn’t so different from me?

If we can start there, the road to recovery stops being theirs or ours. It becomes something we build together, on our own terms.