The Cost of Exclusion: What Happens When Communities Are Pushed Too Far (Repeated Story With Today’s Lense – After D.C. Shooting!)

This Story Originally Appeared On November 1st, 2025. On November 26th a shooting resulted in Washington D.C. It looks as if it resulted from pressure placed on an individual. A person identified from a sect or community. You can read the story connected to that event here. then consider the contents of this story and decide for yourself. It is not difficult to have predicted. More will come.

10–16 minutes

In every generation, the United States stands at a crossroads of its own making. From the outside, our country can look unstoppable. From the inside, we often feel the push and pull of competing values. These include hopes and fears. Beneath the headlines and politics are real people—neighbors, families, workers—trying to live meaningful lives. When pressure builds in a society, it rarely announces itself with fanfare. Instead, it creeps in quietly, showing up as worry, disconnection, or a sense that something familiar is shifting. This story isn’t about sensational headlines but about those quiet pressures—economic, social, and cultural—that can change a nation’s future.

Deportation, Prejudice, and the Risk of History Repeating

When governments treat specific communities as disposable, they create wounds. These often fester into something more dangerous. Today in the United States, many Hispanic families live under the shadow of deportation. They are sometimes sent to countries that are not their place of origin. Worse still, many are denied fair hearings or meaningful access to justice before being removed.

This pattern, though uniquely American in its details, has historical echoes elsewhere.

Lessons from Israel and Its Neighbors

Globally, people are voicing similar worries. Inflation, poverty, unemployment, and corruption rank highest worldwide. Local details differ, yet the underlying pressures on ordinary families are strikingly alike from one country to another.

In the Middle East, decades of restrictive policies have shaped the relationship between Israel and its neighbors. Palestinians have endured travel restrictions, settlement expansion, home demolitions, and barriers to full participation in civic life. While not every individual responds with violence, these systemic grievances have fueled a climate where radical groups gain traction. Street shootings, bombings, and attacks on innocent civilians are, in part, the tragic outcome of exclusion and marginalization.

  • When justice is denied, resentment grows. History shows us what happens when exclusion takes root. Will the U.S. repeat Israel’s mistakes?

The lesson is not that oppression always leads to terrorism. Yet, when large communities feel silenced, denied justice, or stripped of dignity, it becomes easier for extremism to take root.

The American Parallel

For many Hispanic communities in the U.S., there is growing concern that the same cycle begins here. Families who have lived in this country for years are uprooted without warning. Children who know no other homeland are deported to countries where they have no ties. Legal safeguards that should guarantee fairness are often bypassed through expedited removal or administrative shortcuts.

  • Deportation without dignity doesn’t just break families—it risks breaking society. Lessons from abroad show what happens when whole communities are silenced.

The danger is not only humanitarian—it is practical. Alienation breeds resentment. Resentment, left unchecked, can lead to anger that is so strong it erupts in harmful ways. If citizens and residents consistently feel betrayed by the very government meant to protect them, feelings of betrayal grow. Over time, these feelings lead to instability akin to that seen in other parts of the world.

A Cautionary Reflection

The United States faces a choice. It can double down on policies that treat Hispanic people as outsiders. Alternatively, it can recognize that fairness, dignity, and due process are not luxuries—they are stabilizers. By ensuring justice and compassion, the U.S. can protect both its people and its principles.

History reminds us that exclusion never produces lasting peace. Inclusion does. If America forgets this, it risks repeating a painful lesson already written across borders far from its own.

  • Exclusion never creates peace. Inclusion does. The United States must choose which future it wants.

As this report was being prepared on September 10, 2025. Conservative activist Charlie Kirk was fatally shot during a speaking event at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah. He was addressing an audience as part of his “American Comeback Tour.” When a gunman, described as wearing tactical gear, opened fire from a nearby building. The event was not just violent in its outcome. It’s now being discussed widely as an example of how political tensions, rising polarization. Public rhetoric can set the stage for tragedy. AP News+3Reuters+3People.com+3

This shooting stands as a stark reminder of what happens when communities feel threatened, unheard, or unfairly treated. When specific policies—like deportations without fair hearings, rhetoric that pits “us vs. them,” or laws that strip rights from people—are merged with public disdain, alienation can grow. As with Kirk’s death, violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It is often preceded by months or years of escalating division, distrust, and dehumanizing language toward some group.

If similar pressures continue—where people feel they are being denied justice. Or they will be forced into exile, or silenced—the risk is not only that isolated individuals will lash out. More of these attacks will spill into public spaces, become more common, and target more people. Charlie Kirk’s shooting is tragic and shocking. Still it also foreshadows a pattern we’ve seen before elsewhere: oppression + exclusion + inflammatory rhetoric = violence.

THE QUESTION NOW FACING THE UNITED STATES

The U.S. be trailing a path? Is government policy and public rhetoric pushing some communities to a breaking point? Exclusion and injustice be more than grievances, becoming catalysts for violence? 

Israel offers a stark example. It shows what can happen when a nation attempts to dominate or control another people or region. Despite decades of military action, surveillance, imprisonment, and harsh policies, the country faces ongoing terrorist attacks. These actions occur within its own borders. History shows that no matter the tactics, attempts to subjugate or marginalize an entire population often breed resentment. Such approaches lead to cycles of violence rather than lasting security.

Recent polling reveals Americans’ top worries focus on daily life basics. These include the economy, healthcare costs, inflation, and Social Security. Economic anxiety has become the leading stress point—and understanding it is key to shaping effective public policy.

In the United States, millions of people belong to the LGBTQI community—transgender, gay, intersex, and beyond. If laws or court rulings increasingly target these groups with discriminatory restrictions or hardships, the effect won’t just be legal. It will erode their existing rights and impact them deeply on a human level. People who feel cornered, threatened, or stripped of dignity often turn to protest, activism, and self-defense. Families, friends, and allies of LGBTQI individuals will stand with them. History shows that when marginalized communities are pushed too far, their collective response grows stronger. They become more determined, whether through the courts, the ballot box, or public action.

  •  There are case studies in why inclusion and fairness matter. Disenfranchisement can occur across many lines. These include ethnicity, religion, gender, disability, or economic status. Prevention starts with recognizing early warning signs. It involves pushing for fairness and empathy. Other groups and individuals will be targeted in this sweeping of Americans’ rights.

1. Immigrant and Refugee Communities Beyond Latin America

People from African nations, the Middle East, or Asia sometimes experience parallel challenges. They face deportation, limited due process, and suspicion tied to their nationality or religion. Policies that reduce refugee admissions, delay asylum processing, or tighten visa rules disproportionately affect them.

2. Religious Minorities

Muslims, Sikhs, Jews, and other smaller faith groups have seen spikes in harassment or targeted legislation. Surveillance, mosque or temple zoning battles, and hate crimes all increase when public rhetoric frames these groups as”others.”

3. Indigenous Peoples

Tribal communities continue to face legal battles over land, water, and sovereignty. Changes to federal protections or environmental rules can undermine their rights. This fuels deep distrust and potential standoffs (for example, Standing Rock and other pipeline protests).

4. People With Disabilities

Budget cuts or shifts in healthcare, accessibility regulations, or education funding can affect people with physical or cognitive disabilities. Without legal protections and enforcement, they risk losing access to accommodations and services they depend on.

5. Women and Reproductive Rights

If policies continue restricting reproductive healthcare and bodily autonomy, many women feel increasingly alienated. This is especially true for those in rural and low-income areas. Such feelings lead to organized protest. It also heightens tensions.

6. Workers in Precarious or Gig Jobs

With unions weakened and worker protections often rolled back, low-wage and gig-economy workers are also vulnerable to systemic neglect. Economic insecurity can create fertile ground for unrest, especially if merged with racial or immigration-related grievances.

On a hot summer’s day, if you stir any of these pots, something unhappy will happen. Similarly, if you keep someone locked out on a cold winter’s day, the outcome will be negative. It used to be the explosive reaction we referred to as Cabin-Fever when someone no longer can take the pressure. When so many groups are pushed to the point of not being capable to handle it. What happens? America already has more firearms than any country in the world. It shouldn’t take much research to realize that becoming Palestine-Israel would be easier than ever. It would also be more violent than people thought.

  • Exclusion never creates peace. Inclusion does. America must choose which future it wants.

There are Americans who are also to be considered part of the LGBTQI community. If laws or Supreme Court rulings turn against the transgender, Gay members, or Intersex community, these laws can cause hardships. Further restrictions can come into their lives. At some point, they and their families, friends, and supporters are going to find ways to defend themselves. 

Yes — beyond the Hispanic and LGBTQI communities already discussed, there are several other groups. Experts and advocates often recognize these groups as vulnerable. These groups are often affected by shifts in policy, public sentiment, or legal rulings. Here’s a quick overview:

How Many Transgender People Have Been Mass Shooters?

This chart shows just how rare transgender or nonbinary mass shooters are in the U.S.—less than 1% of cases compared to an overwhelming majority by cisgender men. It’s a clear reminder that public narratives blaming LGBTQ+ people for mass violence are unsupported by facts.

How many trans shooters are there in real life?

Officially, the short answer: very, very few. Credible databases don’t systematically record gender identity. Still, the best available analyses show well under 1% of U.S. mass shooters have identified as transgender or nonbinary—i.e., only a handful of cases across many decadesSocial Sciences and Humanities College+1

A few notes for context:

  • The Violence Project’s long-running database (public mass shootings, 4+ killed) shows hundreds of incidents since 1966. Researchers and fact-checks confirm that transgender perpetrators account for less than 1% of cases. This is in the low single digits in total. The Violence Project+1
  • News reporting that tries to tally specific incidents similarly finds just a few cases. It also cautions that many official datasets code by sex, not gender identity, which limits precision. Newsweek
  • Independent fact-checks conclude that claims of a “rise” in transgender mass shooters are unsupported. The vast majority of mass shooters are cisgender men. Reuters

Bottom line: Exact counts are hard to pin down because of data limitations. The evidence consistently shows that transgender people make up a vanishingly small share of U.S. mass shooters.

“Fewer than ten transgender athletes out of 510,000 NCAA players.

Yet, they’re at the center of a multi-million-dollar political storm.”

This makes sense—transgender people represent a very small part of the population, and their visibility often makes them targets. Out of more than 510,000 NCAA college athletes nationwide, it’s estimated that fewer than ten are openly transgender. Historically, families—including our grandparents and their grandparents—have coexisted with transgender individuals without controversy. Only in recent years have political attacks escalated, turning a once-private aspect of life into a public battleground. These attacks have generated hundreds of millions of dollars. Groups and politicians use transgender people as a wedge issue. They target individuals who are simply trying to live their lives.

What We Know (or Think We Know)

  • According to the Williams Institute at UCLA, about 300,000 youth aged 13–17 recognize as transgender in the U.S. Williams Institute
  • Of those, some studies suggest ~40.7% of transgender high school students play on at least one sports team. Applying that to the population estimate gives around 120,000+ transgender high school student-athletes Williams Institute
  • Nonetheless, when it comes to more specific breakdowns (e.g. how many play in women’s teams, or how many are in college/pro sports), the numbers are much smaller. For example, GLAAD reports that among ~510,000 NCAA college athletes, there are fewer than 10 known transgender athletes GLAAD

Key Takeaways & Limitations

  • Small in relative terms: Tens of thousands of transgender youth join in high school sports. Still, they are still a very tiny fraction of all athletes.
  • Very few at higher levels: At the college or professional levels, the known, openly transgender athletes are very rare (under 10 in the NCAA among all those athletes, per recent reports) GLAAD+1
  • Data gaps: Many sports associations don’t track gender identity carefully. Privacy concerns, inconsistent reporting, and changing eligibility rules make precise numbers hard to nail down.

Exclusion never creates peace. Inclusion does. The United States must choose which future it wants.

Yet even in times of strain, The United States of America greatest strength has always been its capacity to self-correct. Communities do not simply absorb pressure—they also adapt, innovate, and rise to meet challenges. We have the chance now to choose empathy over division, solutions over rhetoric, and inclusion over exclusion. If we remember that the country’s heart beats strongest when its people are treated with fairness and dignity. Then the same forces that threaten to divide us can also become the sparks that unite us. This is not just a warning—it’s an invitation to hope.

This content was originally intended to be posted on September 11, 2025. Due to unfolding events at that time, its publication was postponed until November 1, 2025. It is reposted on June 26, 2026 due to the current decisions of the United States Supreme Court. The research began weeks before events on September 10, 2025 in Utah. If additional events have occurred since then, this report reflects the level of concern. It highlights the growing sense of unease emerging across the United States.


About the Author:

Benjamin Groff is a former police officer and radio news anchor. He has hosted programs for CNN and ABC News affiliates in Colorado and Wyoming. His career in law enforcement began in 1980 and lasted more than two decades. This gave him firsthand insight into the criminal mind and public safety. Moreover, it provided him with an understanding of the human stories that often go untold. His writing draws on these experiences, blending street-level truth with a journalist’s eye for the bigger picture.

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2025 

 

The Consequences of Women Losing Voting Rights

2–3 minutes

What If Women Lost the Right to Vote Today?

Imagine waking up one day and discovering that half the population no longer has a voice in governance. It seems unimaginable. But, by exploring this dystopian scenario, we gain a clearer understanding. Women’s full participation is vital to a healthy democracy.


1. Democracy at Risk: Representation Crumbles

Eliminating women’s voting rights would erode democratic legitimacy. According to Pew Research, no nation has fully rescinded women’s suffrage after granting it. Afghanistan is a rare case. Instability there led to temporary rollbacks of voting rights for women (1).

Political representation would skew drastically without the inclusion of women. This would undermine policies related to education, healthcare, family leave, and equity. These are issues where women often drive progress (2). Removing half the electorate opens the door to unbalanced, unaccountable leadership that ignores countless lived experiences.


2. Social and Economic Inequities Would Widen

The ripple effect of eliminating women’s voting rights would be immediate and profound:

  • Policy Backslides: In response to women’s demands, early 20th-century legislation emerged. Acts like the Sheppard-Towner Act (maternity care), the Women’s Bureau, and the Cable Act were major milestones. They were built on women’s political influence (3). Lose voting rights, and such gains evaporate.
  • Stalled Progress for Women of Color: Even after the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920, women of color still faced systemic barriers. Voting was made difficult for them. These barriers persisted in many forms. This was especially true for Black, Native, Latinx, and Asian Americans. These barriers weren’t fully lifted until the Voting Rights Act of 1965 (4). Removing voting rights today would re-introduce even greater marginalization.

3. The 19th Amendment Is Not a Safety Net

The 19th Amendment constitutionally affirms women’s right to vote. Changing that would need another amendment. This presents an extraordinarily high legal and political hurdle. Legal scholars and court precedents affirm its permanence (5).

Still, we must stay vigilant. Recent developments remind us that the spirit of equality is always at risk. These include potential threats to voting access via legislation like the SAVE Act. There is also rhetoric from political figures undermining democratic foundations.  (6).


Final Thought

Losing the right to vote wouldn’t be just a policy shift—it’d be a moral and societal unraveling. Not only would women’s voices vanish from ballots, but the very foundations of inclusive democracy would start to crumble. That’s why protecting voting rights isn’t optional—it’s essential.


By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 

How Western Movies Perpetuate Harmful Stereotypes of Indigenous Peoples

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 Truth Endures©

3–4 minutes

I was watching an old Western on television this past weekend. You know, the kind—cowboys and Indians. Or, as we might say today, American Ranchers and Indigenous Peoples.

The film, likely made in the 1950s, had the signature gloss of that era’s post-war cinema. Still, something about it suggested it was possibly shot even earlier, maybe in the 1940s. It was only later spliced, refitted, and packaged for the screen. The costumes, dialogue, and scenery all hinted at a time when the stereotypes were deeply ingrained in the script. They weren’t even questioned.

I probably watched that movie as a kid. I was sitting next to my father, not giving it a second thought. Back then, it was just another Western. But this time around, with a different set of eyes, what I saw was jarring.

It followed the predictable narrative: the cavalry riding in to tame the West and keep the “Indians” under control. Two delicately dressed white heroines were caught in the middle of a brewing conflict. A white doctor stood out as the lone character who dared to see Native people as human beings. He was mocked and ostracized for his compassion. This was especially true when a malaria outbreak swept through the tribe. He insisted they deserved treatment.

At one point, he stood in a room full of fellow whites. He asked,

“Do you think Indians are not human beings? Human beings like you and me, who deserve to live and be healthy?”

And one of the prim ladies, her hair perfect and her face untouched by empathy replied:

“I don’t know… how could they be?”

To which others in the room nodded and added, 

“That’s right.”

“Of course, they’re not!”

“No way, in God’s name.”

I sat there stunned, wondering:

“How did a line like that ever make it into a movie script?”

Even more troubling:

“How did it get past editors, producers, censors—only to be broadcast, repeated, and absorbed by generations?”

It wasn’t just offensive. It was abusive. And it made me sad.

Is there a historical context to such language? Possibly. But what would a young Native American child feel sitting in front of that screen? Would they see their life reflected as something lesser—something not worthy of protection or dignity? Listening to the white characters, it certainly felt that way.

And it took me back to where I grew up.

I’m from the Kiowa and Comanche Counties area in Oklahoma—Caddo County, specifically. I was raised alongside Native American children, many of whom I called friends.

Later in life, I worked in law enforcement and came to know tribal members through both personal and professional relationships. I learned a great deal from them—about their culture, their pride, their pain.

When I started in law enforcement, the department had an initiation ritual. It involved arresting a man nicknamed Fifteen Thousand. He was a Native man, around 50 years old, who’d been detained countless times—hence the name. His real name was Thomas Kamaulty Sr.

He was the first person I ever arrested as an officer. 

And, in time, Thomas became the first person I ever saw get sober. That meant something.

Ira Hayes

I also think about people like Ira Hayes. He was a Pima Indian from Arizona. Ira helped raise the flag at Iwo Jima during World War II. A hero by every standard. And yet, like Thomas, Ira suffered. Both carried the scars of discrimination and trauma. Both turned to alcohol as a way to numb the soul-deep wounds this country handed them.

We often ask why these cycles exist—but we rarely admit the truth: it’s because we’ve designed them to. We’ve placed people like Thomas, like Ira, into roles and systems. Their suffering can be managed. Their voices are diminished. Their lives are controlled. That was always the plan. And until we stop pretending it wasn’t, the script will keep playing—over and over again.