It was mostly cloudy on Wednesday 6th January 2021. Unsurprising for winter, the dampness in the whisked air had seeped into the house through small nooks. It was greeted by a blanket of central heat, defrosting as much of the chill as it could. Shuddering, I climbed into the warmth of my bed, a mug of tea in hand, and switched on the TV. What transpired next made this ordinary day unordinary, and this cold day bitterly icy.
A mob of radicals suddenly imposed my TV screen. Eyes wide with disbelief, I began to process what I was seeing: a mass of red-capped heads gathered in a violent herd at the Capitol, winged with weaponized flags that bellowed the word Trump. Although their warring flag didn’t spell out (T)-Tyranny, (R)-Riotous, (U)-Umbrage, (M)-Militant, (P)-Patriarchy, it did spell out a dangerous patriotism named domestic terrorism.
It was an unbelievable sight. Donald J. Trump, one of the 21st Century’s most controversial, immoral, and dangerous figureheads, emboldened radicals to storm the Capitol in a violent attempt to delegitimize Joe Biden’s Presidential election victory. Yeah, you read that correctly: bully Trump got his gun-swinging minions to have epic tantrums at the Capitol. This mutinous protest was supposed to intimidate democracy into giving way to the long shadow of totalitarianism.
Despite being many miles away, tucked away in a cozy bed with a snoring pup, I was frightened. It’s moments like these that I realize how unacclimatized to American culture I am. Sure, I’ve lived here for almost a decade, and yes, I’ve lived through Trump’s despotism, systematic racism, the notable formation of Black Lives Matter and the Me-Too movement, and indeed, the discrimination and attempted dismantling of these much-needed organizations, and I’ve lived through 3,471 mass shootings. I’ve lived through Christian supremacy, white supremacy, and the continuous assault on women and our reproductive rights. I’ve lived through so many outlandish and absurd and confusing things – all first experiences for me - and as I’ve labored to comprehend real-time events that my American counterparts seem to take within their strides. This is their normalcy, after all.
However, there’s one thing I always thought to be true: Americans, no matter what side of the flagpole their politics may lay, are indisputably proud to be American. Therefore, they wouldn’t impair their country of pride, their democracy, or their government buildings. Especially not a renowned landmark like the Capitol. But with eyes broad and questioning, watching in shock as radicals actively sought to capture Vice President Mike Pence and Speaker of the House of Representatives, Nancy Pelosi, to murder them, I realized that my understanding of Americans (as a collective) was wrong. Extremely so.
America, the culture, has endured a lot since Trump’s arrival. The orange-haired man with a toddler’s approach to life, who is as delusional as he is imprudent, has been a voice piece for all the underground racists, xenophobes, islamophobes, homophobes, and misogynists alike. Like a bullhorn, Trump’s bias called aloud, awaking those whose ideologies are dangerous, criminal, and morally corrupt; reviving their sickness with a deeper sense of hate. He permitted them to deface America. No rules apply.
The insurrection that took place on January 6th was the climax of Trump’s warfare on democracy. Staring at the TV screen with palpable despair, not knowing what was about to unfold during the live stream, I wondered whether Nancy Pelosi had escaped the Capitol unharmed. The red radicals seized the hallways and offices, destroying much of their “beloved” American history with each ferocious stride, before finding Pelosi’s office and vandalizing it with death threats.
My eyes stung with tears. I was horrified, angry, and embittered as desperate scenes of insurgence unfolded. It was then that I had my own warm sense of patriotism towards this country. How hurt I was, despite not being American, that pro-Trump terrorists had dared to demolish America. Not Trump’s Amerikkka, but the America that I’ve come to know and love. The America that my wife served as a Combat Signaler in the military. The America that historically went blue in the name of progression (thanks to Arizona and Georgia), and the America that celebrated the first woman, and the first woman of color, Vice President Kamala Harris.
The America where openly gay husband and father, Pete Buttigieg, exists as the United States Secretary of Transportation, and the America where the first LGBTQIA+ and first Latina, Sonya Jaquez Lewis, was elected in Colorado, and not forgetting the incredible Sisters of Color, Sisters of Power, and Sisters of Revolution, Stacey Abrams, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and Ilhan Omar. All beautifully American, representing American diversity. This, and much more, is the America that I advocate for. This, and all that it encompasses, is the America that will rise above the smoke of gunpowder and terrorizations, and of Trump’s coercions and extortions. This is America. The America of today, and the America of tomorrow. This, and only this, is the America that matters.
To quote the prominent attorney, author, and former First Lady of the United States,
Michelle Obama,
“When they go low, we go high.”
(Artist: Michael James Freedman. Title: Insurrection Painting - The Tunnel of Death)
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