The circle of Americans unlucky enough to have seen their tweets directly addressed by the office of the president of the United States is smaller than it may seem, but Jemele Hill is now part of it. The ESPN co-host of “SportsCenter” was nearly taken off the air — then nonchalantly reinstated — after she posted a series of statements to Twitter earlier this week referring to Donald Trump as a “white supremacist” who “surrounded” himself with other white supremacists.
On Wednesday, White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders told reporters that Hill’s tweets constituted a “fireable offense,” marking a troubling pattern for a presidential office that already maintains an antagonistic relationship with the press. “I think that’s one of the more outrageous comments that anyone could make, and certainly something that I think is a fireable offense by ESPN,” Huckabee said in a press briefing.
But how outrageous is it, really, to say a man who has not only refused to repudiate David Duke, the former grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, or denounce Nazi violence in Charlottesville but also appointed a known racist to high officemight be a white supremacist himself? If those are not the metrics by which we measure white supremacy, what are they? White supremacy isn’t a matter of opinion. It’s a radical ideology, one that seems at the least tolerated and at the most implicitly espoused by the current U.S. administration by virtue of its policies and by the people with which it is associated.
Hill’s original comments were addressed to followers who had replied to her on a discussion about singer Kid Rock’s defense of the Confederate flag that quickly devolved, as all things do these days, into a discussion about our sitting president. In one tweet, Hill wrote to a user, “Trump is the most ignorant, offensive president of my lifetime. His rise is a direct result of white supremacy. Period.” These tweets drew the ire of ESPN’s rowdy Twitter audiences, and the network chose to respond not with a defense of Hill but with this feeble statement:
Hill’s apparently controversial comments are still up, but she’s since posted this statement to her Twitter account:
Back in the early days of Twitter, it used to be standard practice among a certain subset of users — particularly journalists and news commentators — to include a phrase like this in their profile bios: “Opinions expressed here do not reflect those of my employer.” In the years since, for many reasons, the disclaimer has become far less common; it’s now a signifier of old mainstream journalistic stodginess. First of all, the nature of Twitter has changed. The platform is widely understood as a sounding board for opinions — even bad ones — and that its users act as individuals, not as representatives of the institutions with which they are associated.
Journalists are human — despite evidence to the contrary — and even if their jobs pigeonhole them as commentators on singular subjects (like sports), it remains impossible for many of us, especially under our current conditions, to remain apolitical or silent on matters of politics. And even we aren’t vocal about our biases, they still exist; some journalists merely warn their readers in advance.
If it’s any indication, the presidential office was mealymouthed in its response to Nazi demonstrators who showed up to the Charlottesville protests, some of them in paramilitary gear, and in its acknowledgment of Heather Heyer’s death, but it managed to summon outrage over an ESPN host’s tweets.
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We could start a rumor.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.