How Have We Become This?

I’m sitting in my apartment outside of Rome Italy. Thinking of heading down to the bar at the corner to grab an espresso. The bar is the kind where the espresso is strong, the voices are soft, and the conversations swirl around art, food, and life. A few days ago, I was in Iceland, breathing in cold volcanic air and watching the midnight sun hover just above the horizon. Now I’m here, taking a few days off after work before heading back to the United States. But my thoughts aren’t on the Renaissance paintings I saw today or the cobblestone streets beneath my feet. They’re on my home in the USA — and what it’s become.

While I’ve been gone, President Trump nationalized the California National Guard and sent U.S. Marines into Los Angeles to put down what’s being called a “riot.” That word — riot — is doing a lot of work right now. The same man who sat in silence as his supporters stormed the Capitol on January 6 is now unleashing military force on civilians protesting injustice.

Masked ICE agents are grabbing people off streets and college campuses. Not just undocumented immigrants — American citizens, too. Some are being targeted based on editorials they’ve written. Let that sink in: we’re now arresting people for writing. Meanwhile, Trump is planning a grotesque birthday party, complete with a military parade, while our cities simmer in pain.

Congress — led by a Republican majority — is trying to gut Medicare and Medicaid, lifelines for millions, all while handing tax cuts to billionaires and oligarchs. Our president has issued a wave of pardons for violent insurrectionists and corrupt elites — one of them conveniently following a $1 million contribution to his re-election fund.

The Department of Justice has become a weapon. A tool for revenge. A shield for allies. This isn’t just about policy differences anymore. This is about power without accountability. Justice is for sale, and morality has been thrown into the back of a black van.

Yes, we have immigration issues. But who isn’t being arrested? The CEOs, the managers, the business owners who hire and exploit undocumented workers with full knowledge and zero consequences. Because in this America, only the powerless are punished.

And the Democratic Party? They’re too busy tearing each other down over ideological purity to offer any real counterforce. They chase symbolism while the house burns.

It hurts to write this. It hurts more to feel ashamed of my own country. But I am. I’m not proud to go back home tomorrow. I wish I didn’t have to. I look around here — in countries with their own flaws, sure — and I envy their stability, their sanity, their belief in facts and decency.

I don’t know exactly when the United States lost its way. Maybe it was a slow drift. Maybe this darkness was always there, and now it’s simply taken off its mask. What I do know is this: we are not okay. We are not the country we pretend to be. We are adrift — and those in power are more than happy to let the ship sink as long as they get a lifeboat.

But here’s what I also know: silence is complicity. Comfort is complicity.

I do not want to be arrested. But I’m not afraid of it either. I will not be silent while my country descends into authoritarianism under the guise of law and order. I will not stand by while neighbors are taken, while dissent is crushed, while the vulnerable are sacrificed for profit and power.

If you’re reading this and you feel the same — speak up. Get involved. Protest. Write. Organize. Call your representatives. Support independent journalism. Refuse to look away. Refuse to normalize this.

History is watching us. And one day, maybe our children will ask what we did when democracy was on the edge.

Let us have a good answer.