Ten years ago, a friend shared her desire to give up alcohol for Lent.

It sounds like you're having a very Muslimy Lent, I said to her. Drinking alcohol is forbidden in Islam.

This was back when "wine mom" culture was still going strong. We were part of a tight-knit trio of working moms who followed politics closely. (This habit can go hand-in-hand with the urge to drink excessively.)

The country was nearing the end of Barack Obama's presidency. We were all weary of the years of racist backlash to a Black family living in the White House.

Oh, to be that young and naive again. Little could we have imagined the absolute degradation the next decade would bring to the political culture in our country.

At any rate, my friend successfully detoxed her liver and kidneys for the 46 days from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday. That same summer, I slogged through as many of the daily fasts of Ramadan as I could bear. It's always a challenging month for me, but I try my best.

This year, Feb. 18 was both the first day of Lent and the first day of fasting for Ramadan. For the first time, our respective fasts coincided.

"I've decided to resume my very Muslim Lent tradition, so we'll be in it together!" my friend messaged. Our third pal, the only Catholic in our group, said she would also try a dry Lent. She planned to stock up on limes and club soda.

"It's going to be extra hard this year to give up booze," she said. "But I really need to." She didn't need to explain why it was going to be extra hard. Like I said, we all follow the news a little too closely.

Speaking of the headlines, in the days leading up to this holy month for Muslims, one Republican lawmaker made news by offering Muslim Americans this greeting from his X account: "If they force us to choose, the choice between dogs and Muslims is not a difficult one."

Rep. Randy Fine of Florida claims to have shared this in response to a Palestinian New Yorker griping about dog poop left in the snow piles of winter and calling dogs unclean. As a dog lover and owner myself, I will defend my pup, Frankie, as cleaner than most because I pay his exorbitant grooming bills. Of course, I also believe dog owners should pick up after their pets on public sidewalks.

But I think we all know Fine's post had nothing to do with canine etiquette.

Take a look at his past rhetoric -- saying Gazans should "starve away" and referring to a Muslim congresswoman as a "terrorist." This was just another opportunity to broadcast his bigotry and dehumanize 2 billion Muslims.

We've always had boldly ignorant and hateful lawmakers, but in the recent past, such behavior was less tolerated by either political party. Back in January of 2019, House Republicans stripped Rep. Steve King, from Iowa, of his committee assignments after the New York Times published an interview in which King questioned why the terms "white nationalist" and "white supremacist" had become offensive.

This week, the silence from GOP lawmakers in response to Fine's latest hateful remark is discouraging. Sadly, it's not surprising.

A lot has changed within the Republican Party in the past seven years.

I was heartened, however, to see many American leaders and pundits condemning Fine, who calls himself "The Hebrew Hammer."

Brian Krassenstein, a social media commentator with nearly 1 million followers, wrote: "I am Jewish like Republican Randy Fine. If someone posted this and replaced 'Muslim' with 'Jew,' they would be impeached in 2 seconds. Just saying. Don't pick and choose what bigotry is OK. For instance, imagine if Ilhan Omar said this but replaced 'Muslim' with 'Jew.'"

Back in the heyday of wine moms, my friends used to lament the double standard faced by the Obamas, especially in conservative media.

Now, everyone has more sober expectations. My Catholic friend mused about combining the best of our faith traditions.

"Too bad we can't just give up booze during the day and have a cocktail at sundown," she said.

In the years after Spencer Toder graduated from Washington University in St. Louis, he noticed a familiar, depressing pattern.

One by one, his college classmates ditched Missouri. They built careers and started businesses and families in other states.

As a fifth-generation St. Louisan, Toder, now 40, chose to stay. He started a real estate business and other business endeavors. He married a woman he'd met at WashU, and they now have two children. Their oldest child goes to the same public elementary school that Toder attended as a kid.

Four years ago, Toder felt compelled to do something to improve the declining situation in Missouri, where young adults and college-educated residents leave at higher rates than other states. His hope was that his children would also want to stay and build their futures here.

So, as a first-timer, and without the big-money support of the party's top two candidates, he ran in the 2022 Democratic primary for one of Missouri's U.S. Senate seats. He came in third, but was still determined to make a difference for his state.

He started looking deeper into the root causes of why the state lags in job creation, wage and population growth. He discovered startling and disturbing stats: Missouri ranks 49th in the percentage of its school funding that comes from the state. We rely heavily on local property taxes to fund education, so wealthier districts tend to have higher test scores.

Missouri also ranked 49th in teacher pay, according to salary data from the National Education Association. This obviously makes it harder to recruit and retain qualified teachers, to the point that a third of Missouri districts -- mostly rural ones -- now operate on a four-day schedule. This is among the highest concentrations in the country of districts with shortened weeks.

It makes sense that having qualified teachers is linked to better student outcomes, and the data corroborates this. Business leaders want to invest in states that offer a large, well-educated workforce. Missouri's trapped in a persistent, downward cycle of not investing in public education and losing its brightest and most talented young adults because better opportunities lure them elsewhere.

Toder knew that Missouri's political landscape had changed dramatically over the past 30 years. It went from a purple bellwether state to a reliably dark-red state in which no Democrat holds statewide office. But while Missouri's political identification has changed, majorities of voters in the state will still support progressive policies presented to them individually on the ballot. (That may be why the Republican supermajority is desperately trying to dismantle the ballot initiative process, but that's another story.)

He wondered if he could use this same approach to try to improve and protect public education. Republican lawmakers have already diverted millions of public dollars to private schools, undermining funding for public schools, and they want to siphon even more.

Toder researched other states that do a better job in educating their workforce and noticed that several had included a right to education in their state constitutions, using words like "adequate," "uniform," "thorough" or "efficient." If states failed to meet these standards, they could be held accountable by the courts to do better. In states like New York, Kentucky, Connecticut and Colorado, which have this kind of language in their constitutions, it led to more equitable funding and better student outcomes, Toder said.

"When education is a constitutional right, schools get the resources they need, and students get results," Toder said.

He launched a ballot initiative that would make education a "fundamental right" and make it the duty of lawmakers to maintain "adequate, thorough and uniform high-quality, free public schools."

This would be an ingenious way to bolster public education across the state.

Toder, who needs to get a total of 175,000 signatures to get his proposed amendment on the ballot in November, needs about 1,000 volunteers across the state to collect the remaining 150,000 signatures he needs.

It would make sense for teachers unions to get their members behind this effort, as well as parents who want their children to have great opportunities in the state.

Otherwise, Missouri can expect to keep its shameful rankings at the bottom of the barrel.

Let’s see what my Republican senators, alleged champions of the Second Amendment, had to say after federal immigration agents gunned down another American in the streets of Minneapolis.

Sen. Josh Hawley, who lives in northern Virginia while representing Missouri, is most famous for running out of the Capitol during the insurrection on Jan. 6 and then publishing a book on “masculinity.” He keeps posting “pro-life” messages on X but never once mentions the life of Alex Pretti, an ICU nurse serving veterans, whom ICE agents pinned down, beat and disarmed of his legally carried handgun before firing multiple rounds to kill him.

Hawley hasn’t uttered a word about Trump administration officials immediately calling Pretti a “domestic terrorist” or even about President Donald Trump criticizing Pretti for legally carrying a gun.

Then again, Hawley is hardly known for personal courage.

Sen. Eric Schmitt, who has spouted support for white Christian supremacy, blamed Minnesota’s elected officials for “dangerous rhetoric” and described Stephen Miller, Trump’s chief architect behind the mass immigration raids, as “a national treasure.” This is after Miller called Pretti a “would-be assassin” hours after he was shot, before the entire world saw multiple videos contradicting the slander.

Again, Schmitt’s bootlicking is hardly surprising.

Even Republican lawmakers in other states have spoken out about Pretti’s killing.

Neither of the senators even pretended to represent the concerns of the 1.2 million Missourians who voted for Democratic nominee Kamala Harris in 2024, and who now want to see investigations and accountability for these ICE killings.

Partisanship has become more extreme in this country, and Missouri is a prime example of it. A growing number of Americans find themselves without any same-party political representation, including a concentrated slice of politically alienated voters in suburban St. Louis.

In the last election, more than 195,000 people in Missouri's District 2 voted against House Rep. Ann Wagner, the Republican rubber stamp for Trump. Among those voters, there are tens of thousands whose state representatives, along with all statewide officeholders, are also MAGA Republicans. These voters have zero same-party representation at the local, state or federal level.

This is the strongest possible form of representational mismatch in the U.S. system. Despite living in a competitive district, these voters are among the least represented in the country.

As politics has become more partisan, our elected officials know they can safely ignore the concerns of 40% of their constituents, focusing instead on governing and campaigning for their own party’s primary voters. And as the GOP has become more extreme and disconnected from reality, it feels more alienating to be solely represented by that party.

Where there is representational mismatch for voters in both parties across the country, it affects more Democratic voters than Republican ones. About 11 million to 13 million Harris voters live in a state where the entire congressional delegation is Republican, while 6 million to 9 million Trump voters live in a state where their entire delegation is Democratic. This imbalance is largely due to Democratic voters being clustered in urban areas, overrepresentation for less-populated rural states in the Senate, and gerrymandered districts in the House.

The intended effect for the ruling party in situations like this is to create a feeling of alienation, disengagement and distrust in the electoral system for those in the political minority. It’s understandable why people in that minority may be inclined to feel helpless.

But those are the exact feelings that lead democracies to fail.

Engaged citizens who lack political representation have to focus their energy for the upcoming election in a more strategic way than ever before. Volunteers can choose to help critical state-level ballot initiatives or close races outside their own district. People can protest against tyranny and help to protect the ones most at risk from it.

It’s vital to keep speaking out and sharing facts and truth.

Ironically, the scorn and contempt shown by those elected to represent an entire state can galvanize the very people they want to dismiss.

Change happens when people refuse to give in or give up.