You know what worries me? It's not that a group of racist lit some tiki torches and decided to have a rally. I worry that this week they'll go back to their job in human resources and decide who gets hired and who gets fired. They'll put their uniform back on and "serve and protect." They'll sit on a jury and decide the fate of a young person of color. They'll teach in a kindergarten class. They'll sit across from a couple, who came to this country, worked hard and saved, and have the power to approve or deny them a loan to purchase their first home. They'll decide an insurance claim. They'll give an estimate to repair the brakes on a mother's only mode of transportation to get to work each day.
I don't stay up lamenting the fact that racists feel emboldened to parade in the street.
I stay up because racists have, do, and will apply their racist beliefs in their daily lives and, by extension mine, and they don't do it carrying a banner to distinguish themselves.
It isn't the theatrical that worries me. It's the practical.