If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
Am I the only one tired of this?
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Current Issue
Activism
/ January 26, 2026
If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
I want you to know why I chose to keep fighting for the world you deserve.
Adrianne Wright
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Activist groups gather in front of the New York Public Library for an anti-ICE rally and march, marking one year since US President Donald Trump took office for a second term on January 20, 2026, in New York City.
(Selcuk Acar / Anadolu via Getty Images)
There are nights when we lie in your bed, fairy lights glowing above us, the city humming softly outside, and you tell me what has been sitting with you all day. Side by side under your pink quilt, you know I am all yours.
It was during one of those nights when you asked me a question I couldn’t answer right away.
You told me you had learned about Renee Macklin Good at school. Then you grew quiet, the way you do when something settles deep inside you. You wondered if something like that could ever happen to me, and asked me not to go to any more protests because you wanted me to be safe.
It has been a while since I stepped into the streets with a sign in my hands. In recent years, I’ve shown up in other ways—telling stories of people living closest to the harms shaping our world, creating spaces for conversation, helping others find ways to act, both quietly and together.
But I understood what you were really asking. You were asking if I would still be here.
That night, I didn’t want to let you go. I held you longer, a little tighter than usual. I don’t know if you felt it but my heart was pounding with love. I told you that I was safe, that we are held by people who love us and look out for one another. That was true—and it was also incomplete.
Current Issue
February 2026 Issue
As much as I want to believe that I am safe, the truth is that the world does not protect everyone in the same way. People of color, like us, live with more danger, and women and girls, and trans and queer people, are punished every day for wanting to live freely. I’m so sorry this is the world you’ve been given.
There is nothing that I have wanted more than to protect you and your sister. But I’ve come to believe that the deepest form of protection is honesty: helping you understand the world as it is, why we are here, and what is being asked of us. This letter is my way of explaining why—even in the face of so much harm—we must never back down.
Since I was a little girl, my parents told me that we are here on purpose—to use the gifts we’ve been given and leave the world better than we found it. I grew up hearing stories that helped me understand what that really meant. Our family has a …
Am I the only one tired of this?
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If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
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Current Issue
Activism
/ January 26, 2026
If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
I want you to know why I chose to keep fighting for the world you deserve.
Adrianne Wright
Share
Copy Link
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Ad Policy
Activist groups gather in front of the New York Public Library for an anti-ICE rally and march, marking one year since US President Donald Trump took office for a second term on January 20, 2026, in New York City.
(Selcuk Acar / Anadolu via Getty Images)
There are nights when we lie in your bed, fairy lights glowing above us, the city humming softly outside, and you tell me what has been sitting with you all day. Side by side under your pink quilt, you know I am all yours.
It was during one of those nights when you asked me a question I couldn’t answer right away.
You told me you had learned about Renee Macklin Good at school. Then you grew quiet, the way you do when something settles deep inside you. You wondered if something like that could ever happen to me, and asked me not to go to any more protests because you wanted me to be safe.
It has been a while since I stepped into the streets with a sign in my hands. In recent years, I’ve shown up in other ways—telling stories of people living closest to the harms shaping our world, creating spaces for conversation, helping others find ways to act, both quietly and together.
But I understood what you were really asking. You were asking if I would still be here.
That night, I didn’t want to let you go. I held you longer, a little tighter than usual. I don’t know if you felt it but my heart was pounding with love. I told you that I was safe, that we are held by people who love us and look out for one another. That was true—and it was also incomplete.
Current Issue
February 2026 Issue
As much as I want to believe that I am safe, the truth is that the world does not protect everyone in the same way. People of color, like us, live with more danger, and women and girls, and trans and queer people, are punished every day for wanting to live freely. I’m so sorry this is the world you’ve been given.
There is nothing that I have wanted more than to protect you and your sister. But I’ve come to believe that the deepest form of protection is honesty: helping you understand the world as it is, why we are here, and what is being asked of us. This letter is my way of explaining why—even in the face of so much harm—we must never back down.
Since I was a little girl, my parents told me that we are here on purpose—to use the gifts we’ve been given and leave the world better than we found it. I grew up hearing stories that helped me understand what that really meant. Our family has a …
If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
Am I the only one tired of this?
Log In
Email *
Password *
Remember Me
Forgot Your Password?
Log In
New to The Nation? Subscribe
Print subscriber? Activate your online access
Skip to content Skip to footer
If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
Magazine
Newsletters
Subscribe
Log In
Search
Subscribe
Donate
Magazine
Latest
Archive
Podcasts
Newsletters
Sections
Politics
World
Economy
Culture
Books & the Arts
The Nation
About
Events
Contact Us
Advertise
Current Issue
Activism
/ January 26, 2026
If Something Happens to Me: A Letter to My Daughter
I want you to know why I chose to keep fighting for the world you deserve.
Adrianne Wright
Share
Copy Link
Facebook
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Email
Ad Policy
Activist groups gather in front of the New York Public Library for an anti-ICE rally and march, marking one year since US President Donald Trump took office for a second term on January 20, 2026, in New York City.
(Selcuk Acar / Anadolu via Getty Images)
There are nights when we lie in your bed, fairy lights glowing above us, the city humming softly outside, and you tell me what has been sitting with you all day. Side by side under your pink quilt, you know I am all yours.
It was during one of those nights when you asked me a question I couldn’t answer right away.
You told me you had learned about Renee Macklin Good at school. Then you grew quiet, the way you do when something settles deep inside you. You wondered if something like that could ever happen to me, and asked me not to go to any more protests because you wanted me to be safe.
It has been a while since I stepped into the streets with a sign in my hands. In recent years, I’ve shown up in other ways—telling stories of people living closest to the harms shaping our world, creating spaces for conversation, helping others find ways to act, both quietly and together.
But I understood what you were really asking. You were asking if I would still be here.
That night, I didn’t want to let you go. I held you longer, a little tighter than usual. I don’t know if you felt it but my heart was pounding with love. I told you that I was safe, that we are held by people who love us and look out for one another. That was true—and it was also incomplete.
Current Issue
February 2026 Issue
As much as I want to believe that I am safe, the truth is that the world does not protect everyone in the same way. People of color, like us, live with more danger, and women and girls, and trans and queer people, are punished every day for wanting to live freely. I’m so sorry this is the world you’ve been given.
There is nothing that I have wanted more than to protect you and your sister. But I’ve come to believe that the deepest form of protection is honesty: helping you understand the world as it is, why we are here, and what is being asked of us. This letter is my way of explaining why—even in the face of so much harm—we must never back down.
Since I was a little girl, my parents told me that we are here on purpose—to use the gifts we’ve been given and leave the world better than we found it. I grew up hearing stories that helped me understand what that really meant. Our family has a …
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