America Is a New Country, But I Believe In My Homeland

Building a life in this political unrest

My cat strolled into the bedroom early yesterday morning, mewing just like usual, and my eyes blinked open in the dark. I felt my husband’s toes against mine and listened to his now-endearing snores drift through the morning air. Shortly after, my son started stirring, his little waking-up murmurs audible through the baby monitor.

As I looked at the shadowy ceiling of the room, I was struck–in the best way–with the reality I was in.

Less than a year ago, we were renting a home with a flooded basement, uncertain about our long-term living situation, and stressed about what to do next. Less than 5 years ago, I was pretty sure I’d never have a kid and wondered if I would ever fall in love. And 10 years ago, I was working in a low paying job that felt, to me, like an inescapable future.

But my world changed.

I got a master’s and then a doctorate degree. I got a job in a skilled profession where I felt like I was making a difference. I met my husband, and we had our son. Now we have one more on the way.

In so many ways my life feels very solid, like I’m achieving the American dream.

Later in the day, I read a post about a legal US resident unexpectedly and unlawfully being taken by ICE. Then I saw another similar story in the news about a US citizen. In the doctor’s office waiting room, I watched a live announcement from the White House play in the background, briefly overhearing Trump’s almost humorous declaration that he has a ”bigger heart than you do.”

Then back at home, my husband showed me the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) website. It featured, as of at least that moment, two unavoidably giant banners proclaiming blatant propaganda against Democrats. On every page. It was right out of a dystopian novel, or a clip from some futuristic war movie where dark government forces were controlling the flow of information to the masses.

And for the second time that day, I was struck with the reality I was in. Only this time, I could see it pummelling my life like a wave.

Unavoidably, I imagined in vivid detail us packing up in a hurry. A picture of our oh-so-friendly MAGA neighbors snapping and blocking off exits to our street. I could see those scary looking FBI and ICE agents breaking through windows of our house, validated by their sense of righteousness that they were going to round up some more “radical leftists” who opposed Trump’s progress.

It’s not a big mental leap to make right now. And in this way, my life feels very uncertain.

So at the same time that I pick out furniture and paint colors, I wonder if we’ll be here in a few months to enjoy them. While I talk to my doctor and make a birthing plan, I have a big question of whether it will be safe to have my baby in this country. And when I map out a return-to-work, a timeline of when I will start earning money for my family after giving birth, I doubt they’ll be a place for me in any of the realms in which I am trained. I’m even skeptical that the financial safety net we have for that time will be intact after all this economic turmoil.

This is a new country. Though I was born and raised as an American, full of all the freedom and promise of the day, I am now a foreigner in my homeland. I don’t know what the rules are, and I am no longer familiar with places of safety and danger. The common understandings that once tied me to my neighbors are doubtful.

How does anyone plan a future in a time when there is such profound political unrest? How do you build on a foundation so shaky? And if you can’t do those things, what do you do?

I wrestled with these feelings as I went through my day, switching from topic to topic for this article. Of course, I never found an answer to those disturbing questions. But at the same time, I hung some pictures, and my husband baby-proofed our outlets. We made nourishing food and worked puzzles with our toddler.

We are Americans in a new country. Though we don’t know everything about the new terrain, we still have all the qualities and capabilities that were instilled by the old one.

We are determined, educated, resourceful, and defiant. We are capable and quick on our feet. Above all, I think, we have in our DNA a belief in justice, democracy and freedom. And a bitter distaste for tyranny and all the ridiculous bullshit that comes with it.

We are Americans, and we fight for free worlds.

So for me right now, I hope for the best. I work for change every chance I get. And I will myself to believe that in the wake of this darkness, our future will be bright.

With love and hope for the future,

Stephanie

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