There exists now a palpable division in our country. It is not an extreme theory to posit the last two years or so have done more for polarization, on both micro and macro levels, than any other point in recent history. Battlelines are not only being drawn, but in some cases fortified and those brave enough to be sensible find themselves expelled from the fortification. Friendships and family ties have been severed with the emboldening of the unacceptable. Neighbors now exist in a greater isolation than previously, and neighborhoods already aren’t what they used to be. I wonder how long, if at all, the wounds caused by this administration (and Congress, etc) will linger.
The thought “When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross” has been around for a considerable time. However, to see it unfold in real time is beyond disheartening. A facet of fascism that increasingly makes me uncomfortable is: belligerent nationalism. The centralization of authority, suppression of opposition, racism, etc., all make me uncomfortable too but belligerent nationalism was birthed from something else: American Exceptionalism. We have fostered this aura of superiority, and allowed it to mingle with other forms of perceived superiority: racism, sexism, and religious self-righteousness.
What, then, happens when a sub-culture mixes them all? What if they believe to have the correct: race, gender (anatomy and identity), religion, and place of birth? Such a combination becomes much to unpack and combat. Where to even begin? Now, let us add a willingness to no longer engage in critical thinking coupled with decreased capacity to do so in general due to the decline of education and support systems. As with many of the individuals in this group, the question becomes “How do we reason them out of something they didn’t reason into?”
Unfortunately, while we are attempting to stop the bleeding from existing wounds, more are inflicted with pride, joy, and impunity. Our heads are racing, the photons informing us of the early-morning hours trigger frustration, and sometimes our pint glasses clank hollowly. The system broke. This Civil Cold War, while not cold enough to avoid real casualties, has shown a real light on who we are and where we stand.
Easy it is, and often it happens that fingers are pointed in blame. To attempt to blame any one thing is absurd past any comedic value and delves into ‘dangerous’ territory. Historians will attempt to create a roadmap of how we arrived at a point wherein we shifted from a friendly and forgiving large intermingled community, to a openly dismissive and unnecessarily hostile defender. There is a healthy medium of skeptical and affable which the best among us strive to maintain.
Perhaps it is me simply getting older. Perhaps I don’t have a true grasp of how bad things have always been. The America I once knew, and literally fought for, died. It died under my feet, with me helpless to do anything beyond keep trying: one mind at a time, my plethora of emotional states be damned. Everything I ever fought for: healthcare, education, human rights, net neutrality – all of it is being dismantled piece by piece. The America I once knew now exists more in hypothesis, than from sea to shining sea.
Our hopes are scattered, but our values strong and while we attempt to understand the dynamic of a group with constantly moving goalposts and a win-at-all-costs, infallible, mentality, what America remains is not going quietly. These are dark times, and there is an increasing amount of work to do as the damage keeps piling up, but we have not rolled over. We have not simply thrown our hands in the air, nor have we devolved ourselves to be an equal and opposite. There are visible signs of an impending American Renaissance displayed every day. There is a growing choir, harmonizing and amplifying one another, of voices hungry to not be what we’ve become. There is hope on the horizon that America is, in fact, not dead but bruised. There is hope on the horizon that the engulfing fires will be not only extinguished, but never given an opportunity to be so consuming.
Our hope on the horizon is tempered, measured, patient, but pervasive. Break the dam and bring forth healing waters. The world will never be the same, but it can be better. Chase the horizon.