Humanity Is Glitching (Again): Why These Crises Keep Repeating

Humanity is glitching… again.

There’s a crisis unfolding right now. A woman was publicly killed by ICE this month. Yesterday, a man, too. Tension is rising in Minnesota and across the nation. The situation is horrifying.

And here’s the part we have to say out loud if we’re going to be honest:

It isn’t the first time.

It isn’t even the 500th.

This is the daily, generational, reality that people of color, Indigenous people, immigrants, queer and trans people, disabled people, poor people — marginalized people — have been living inside of since long before the “official” story of America was even written.

This country didn’t suddenly become violent.

The violence has always been here.

The question is: who was allowed to ignore it — and for how long.

If you want to understand “America,” ask the countries we’ve invaded “for freedom” what their lived experience of America has been. Ask the lands we occupy what it felt like when power arrived calling itself order. Ask the families who have been surveilled, targeted, caged, displaced, deported, erased — what democracy felt like from the underside.

We’ve been taught to treat democracy like a fact.

But a lot of what we call “freedom” is just good branding.

The Constitution itself — if we’re being real — was a contract written by powerful wealthy white men to manage their power. A governance technology designed for them. Women were excluded. Black people were excluded. Indigenous people were excluded — the original stewards of the land, thriving here long before Europeans arrived carrying their own wounds from feudalism, kings, and control.

So when I say “humanity is glitching,” I’m not being dramatic.

I’m naming a pattern.

Because the thing about a glitch is:

It loops.

And it keeps looping until the pressure gets high enough that you can’t pretend you don’t see the pattern anymore.

COVID… glitch.

George Floyd… glitch.

College students being arrested and attacked for protesting… glitch.

And now again: deaths, unrest, political escalation, fear in the air — and people acting shocked as if this is new.

It’s not new.

It’s an old program.

And like any program, it has a common denominator.

Us.

Not “them.” Not “those people.” Not “that party.” Not “that region.”

Us. Collectively. As a system.

And here’s one of the most uncomfortable truths hiding inside this moment:

Part of why this current crisis is igniting so much momentum is because unconsciously… many Americans never believed it would get so bad that white people — “good white people” — would be harmed.

That’s not an accusation. It’s a mirror.

It’s the program we have to interrupt.

Because if the only thing that wakes us up is when the violence reaches bodies that look like the ones we’ve been taught to value, then what we’re witnessing is not just tragedy — it’s the exposure of a hierarchy that has been operating the whole time.

This is the part where a lot of people want to move directly into action.

And yes — there are actions to take. There are policies to fight. There are communities to protect. There are ways to show up.

But if we take action without facing the whole loop — without feeling the grief, the complicity, the denial, the numbness, the ways we benefited from the illusion — we will repeat it.

Because the Matrix loves one thing:

Performative change that preserves the underlying code.

So let me ask it directly:

Where have you been asleep?

Not because you’re bad.

Not because you don’t care.

But because the illusion benefitted you enough to keep you comfortable.

Where have you tolerated what you knew wasn’t right because confronting it would cost you something?

Where have you stayed quiet, minimized, rationalized, scrolled past, normalized, outsourced your moral courage to “the system”?

Where have you continued to participate in structures you knew were harming others — because they also kept your life stable?

This is where the “hero-victim-villain” loop shows up.

Americans love the hero story.

We love being the good guys.

We love saving, fixing, liberating — as long as we don’t have to face the villain part.

But the game doesn’t evolve until we’re willing to acknowledge:

Sometimes I’ve been the hero.

Sometimes I’ve been the victim.

And sometimes I’ve been the villain — through action, inaction, complicity, denial, or benefit.

That isn’t about shame.

That’s about truth.

And truth is where sovereignty begins.

Because a glitch is not just a breakdown.

A glitch is a revelation.

A glitch is an opportunity to wake up and see the pattern clearly.

To interrupt.

To grieve.

To face what we didn’t want to know.

To accept responsibility without collapsing into self-hatred.

To grow.

So here’s the invitation — not as a performance, but as a practice:

Reflection Prompts

Take a breath. Let your body answer before your mind.

1. What part of this moment feels unbearable to you — and why?

What exactly is your system reacting to?

2. What are you realizing you assumed would never happen?

What story is cracking?

3. Where have you been living under the American facade — the “it’s fine” storyline — while others lived in the tyranny?

Be honest. Be tender. Be real.

4. Where have you outsourced responsibility?

To politics. To institutions. To “leaders.” To social media. To your self-image.

5. What is this glitch asking you to face in yourself?

Not just externally — internally. In your patterns. Your fear. Your avoidance. Your desire to be seen as good.

6. What would it look like to complete one loop — today?

One conversation. One repair. One boundary. One courageous choice. One action rooted in truth instead of reactivity.

Because I’ll tell you what I believe:

If each of us completed our loops — even one — the fractal will shift.

And reality would begin to reorganize in ways we cannot yet imagine.

Not because we “manifested” it.

But because we stopped feeding the program.

We stopped pretending we were powerless.

We remembered: the system is made of US.

And when enough people interrupt the glitch — instead of repeating it — the game changes.

If you feel activated reading this, don’t rush to fix it. Let yourself feel it. Let it teach you. And then choose one next step from a place of integrity — not performance.

If a resonant next step feels like learning more, I’d love for you to join me in one of my programs. We start at the beginning, and we dive deep.