Two Black men were recently found hanging from trees in Mississippi: Demartravion “Trey” Reed, a young college student at Delta State University, and Cory Zukatis, a 36-year-old unhoused man in Vicksburg. Law enforcement officials say they don’t suspect foul play at this time, but we can’t discount that these deaths are chilling reminders that the fight for justice in this country is far from over. And our communities are still navigating a climate steeped in fear, violence and historical trauma.

As we grieve these tragic losses, I think it’s also important that we widen our lens.

These tragedies didn’t happen in a vacuum. They occurred in a nation simmering with political hostility, where dangerous rhetoric spreads faster than truth and where acts of violence — whether born of ideology, hatred or desperation — are far too common. We are in a moment in which the temperature of our national discourse has reached a boiling point and the consequences are not theoretical. They are deadly.

In August, Iryna Zarutska, a 23-year-old Ukrainian woman, was fatally stabbed in an unprovoked attack on a commuter train in Charlotte, North Carolina. The suspect, a man with a long history of criminal charges and untreated mental illness, was caught on surveillance video walking away after the assault. Just weeks later, the country was shaken again when conservative commentator Charlie Kirk was assassinated at a political rally — a targeted killing that has ignited a wave of speculation, misinformation and heightened fear across ideological lines. And, this summer, Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband were fatally shot in their own home — a devastating attack that sent shockwaves through both political and personal circles.

At the same time, LGBTQ+ communities are under growing threat, not only from vigilante violence but also from state-sanctioned hostility. From Florida to Texas to Missouri, anti-trans legislation has exploded across the country, often couched in cynical appeals to “protect children,” while the actual effect has been to strip families of autonomy, erase queer identities and deny young people lifesaving care. Just last year, a nonbinary teen in Oklahoma was beaten to death in a school bathroom after months of lawmakers fanning flames of anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment.

What connects these violent events is not the identity of the victims or the perpetrators, but the shared context in which they happened: a broken system in which violence festers in the absence of justice, compassion and accountability.

Every life lost too soon must be treated as worthy of answers and action. And we must also ask ourselves: What kind of country are we becoming?

The violence we are witnessing is not isolated. It’s part of a broader crisis of values. We have allowed cruelty to masquerade as policy, division to become a political strategy and indifference to harden our hearts. And we are seeing the results every day.

We have families being torn apart, whether by draconian immigration enforcement, the child welfare-to-prison pipeline or simply because vital social services are being slashed. We are watching civil rights being rolled back in real time: making it harder to vote, banning books, stripping away the right to protest and stifling the freedom of speech under the weight of political retaliation.

It’s time to cool the temperature in this country. Not by ignoring injustice, but by addressing it head-on. Unity does not mean uniformity. It means choosing truth over propaganda. It means defending human dignity regardless of political affiliation. It means coming together, not in spite of our differences but because of them.

This is not a call to retreat from progress. It’s a call to double down on it. With compassion, clarity and conviction. We need leaders who will speak truthfully about racism, poverty, gun violence, extremism, and the failures of our mental health and criminal justice systems. Not to divide us but to heal us.

As a public servant, I believe our government can and must be a force for good. That means refusing to let violence and hate become the price we pay for political gain.

Because we don’t have to accept this as our normal.

The America I believe in and fight for is one where every person — Black, white, immigrant, housed or unhoused, trans or cis, liberal or conservative — has the right to feel safe and valued. That vision is still possible. But only if we meet this moment with urgency.

Let us reject fear and hatred. Let us build a country where justice isn’t just an ideal, but a lived reality — together.

State Sen. Lakesia Collins, D-Chicago, represents Illinois’ 5th District.

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