The “Believe” singer also addressed her anxieties about what the future for trans people will look likе in an interview with ‘The Guardian’Cher might not be “strong enough” to survive another Trump presidency.
In an interview with The Guardian released Wednesday, the “Believe” singer opened up about how “horrified” she’d feel if former President Donald Trump was once again re-elected.
“I almost got an ulcer the last time,” she told the outlet. “If he gets in, who knows? This time I will leave [the country].”The actress/musician is particularly concerned with what the future for trans people looks likе. It’s something likе 500 bills they’re trying to pass,” she told the publication. “I was with two trans girls the other night – and of course my own child [Chaz is trans]. I was saying ‘We’ve got to stand together.’ I don’t know what their eventual plan is for trans people.
I don’t put anything past them.”
Cher has been a longtime critic of the 45th president calling him a “f—ing traitor” on X (formerly known as Twitter) in 2016 and saying in a 2018 interview with The Washington Post that he had done “so much damage” to America.
The pop legend, whose birth father was Armenian, also addressed the tensions between Armenians and Azerbaijan in her conversation with The Guardian, which she has been tweeting about lately as well. She began to identify strongly with her heritage once she took a trip years ago when she visited its capital, Yerevan.
“When I got there, I thought, ‘Wow, everybody looks likе me! How could I not have strong feelings about this?’” she told the publication. The album is a 13-track project, which features collaborations with pals including Stevie Wonder and Cyndi Lauper, covers of classics likе Chuck Berry’s “Run Rudolph Run” and original tracks such as the dance-pop single “DJ Play a Christmas Song.”
A BOY WAS SELLING HIS TOYS — THEN THE COMMUNITY STEPPED IN.
The morning air was crisp with the promise of a new day. George and I, bundled in our warmest coats, were on our usual walk, enjoying the quiet of our suburban street. The sun, a shy sliver peeking through the clouds, cast long shadows across the lawns. As we passed apartment building number 7, something caught my eye.
A small figure huddled beside a makeshift table, a handwritten sign propped against a stack of toys. Curiosity piqued, I approached the boy. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old, his face a mixture of determination and sadness.
“What are you doing?” I asked gently.
The boy, with eyes the color of a stormy sea, looked up at me. “Selling my toys,” he said, his voice small but resolute. “To help my dog.”
My heart sank. “Your dog?” I asked, confused.
He nodded, his lip trembling slightly. “My parents… they can’t afford to keep him anymore. They might have to take him to the shelter.”
The words hung heavy in the air. This child, barely out of toddlerhood, was facing a hardship that no child should ever have to bear. George, ever the pragmatist, gently inquired about the prices of the toys. They were ridiculously low, a testament to the boy’s desperation.
We couldn’t just walk away. We “bought” a few of his toys, though we had no intention of keeping them. Instead, we returned home with a renewed sense of purpose. We started knocking on doors, sharing the boy’s story with our neighbors. The response was immediate and overwhelming.
Mrs. Garibaldi, the elderly woman who always had a jar of cookies on her windowsill, donated a generous sum, her eyes brimming with tears. Mr. Thompson, the gruff gardener with a soft spot for animals, offered to mow the family’s lawn for the next month. Children, their faces alight with concern, emptied their piggy banks, their contributions ranging from a few coins to a dollar bill clutched tightly in their small hands.
News of the boy’s plight spread through the neighborhood like wildfire. Within hours, a small “fund” for the dog’s care had materialized. We dropped off the contributions that evening, a small bag overflowing with cash and good wishes.
The boy’s face, when he saw the money, was a picture of disbelief. His eyes widened, then welled up with tears. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.” His parents, initially hesitant, were overcome with gratitude.
As we walked away, a sense of warmth filled my heart. It was a reminder that even in the face of adversity, the human spirit could shine through. The simple act of kindness, of reaching out to a neighbor in need, had created a ripple effect of compassion and support.
That evening, as I tucked my own children into bed, I told them about the little boy and his dog. I explained that sometimes, even the smallest acts of kindness could make a big difference. “Remember,” I said, “we’re all connected. We’re all part of a community, and we need to look out for each other.”
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of birdsong and the gentle patter of rain. The memory of the boy’s grateful smile warmed my heart. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope, and that the kindness of strangers can truly make a difference.
That day, I went about my business with a renewed sense of purpose, determined to be more mindful of the needs of those around me. The world, I realized, was full of small acts of heroism, waiting to be discovered. And in the quiet moments, I would remember the little boy and his dog, a testament to the enduring power of compassion and the unwavering kindness of the human spirit.
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