As a young child, I played with G.I. Joe. Not the new kind, but the original that had ball-and-socket limbs inside its World War II uniform. But I would never have thought to use that as an introduction to an inane diatribe against expecting the Democrats to be elected because voters approved of what they want to do to this nation. Then again, I’m not Roxane Gay.
When I was a kid, my brothers and I often played with G.I. Joe action figures. They battled and drove military vehicles, and though they were too small to reach the pedals, we positioned them to take the occasional spin in Barbie’s pink Corvette.
There was something very satisfying about action figures we could move as we saw fit and insert into narratives of our choosing. As inanimate objects, they had no say in the matter, always staring back at us placidly.
