My House was Ransacked

My house was ransacked and not only were the things I valued stolen, but my sense of security was also taken. I thought that I was safe at home. I felt I could count on finding my things where I left them because they were in my house, which was secure. I thought that as long as I locked up my house when I left home, no one would break in and take my things.

But it went beyond what was taken. It was also what was left. My things were damaged or destroyed. Some people went through my house with disrespect and dirtied the rooms. They ripped and smashed what they found so even if they didn’t take those items, they left them in pieces for me. It was a message of disregard. It felt hurtful.

Actually, it wasn’t my house. It was our house. It was the house of the United States. It was our values. It was our capitol. It was our faith in one another. It was a violation of the belief that we only had to protect ourselves from those outside our house because everyone who lives in the house is family. The family of those who live in America.

Maybe it was that we also lived with domestic abuse. We didn’t feel the love of our leadership. Because our leader was self-centered and deaf towards our statements of need or our interest in being compassionate to our vulnerable. He encouraged infighting and bullying.

But we didn’t feel the true measure of the ransacking or the domestic abuse. Because as much as we talked about it, we didn’t let ourselves feel the full measure of hurt. Because there was no end to it and we had to tough it out.

Until the night before the inauguration. When, for the very first time since the Covid-19 pandemic started, we came together to acknowledge and mourn our losses. For a moment we didn’t have to tough it out — we could exhale and cry about how hard it’s been.

Then, on inauguration day, we finally got to put down the baggage that we’ve carried wherever we’ve been for the past 4 years. And when we did, we finally let ourselves feel the muscle pain in our shoulders and arms. We ached.

We listened to a new leader who spoke about the obstacles on the path to our house. Instead of a leader who knew we were suffering but dared not speak about it for fear he’d have to fix it, we now had a leader who clearly and loudly announced the names of the obstacles on our path. We can’t fix what we don’t acknowledge. Beyond naming the stolen and damaged items, our new leadership put our feelings of hurt and fear into words. We felt relief.

So we were able to look at our ransacked house and see it for all it’s damage. Because this leader gave us hope that we could repair it together. That it would take time and hard work but our house would be brought back to its glory — and then some.

Many of us cried on inauguration day because we no longer had to minimize our pain or negate how broken down everything had become. Our trust in our leadership was stolen — they downplayed our economic and health concerns. Everything with our leader was transactional — economic relief was promised to us after election day. If we were good, we might get it. When he didn’t get the win, he ignored our pain in losing our jobs, small businesses, quality education, food and shelter.

We watched our house disconnect from the neighborhood of international neighbors and those partnerships to address environmental and health issues. We saw that our cries about how we treated our most vulnerable fell on deaf ears. Instead, we were doled callous and empty rhetoric. We heard meager excuses about why we separated immigrant children from their families and locked them in cages; we saw a shoulder shrug when we asked about the promise to release the stockpile of vaccines, implement a ‘beautiful’ health plan and trigger a pandemic relief plan because none of them existed.

We cried on inauguration day because our new leadership picked up a broom to sweep away the debris. Once the lies, harmful policies and disregard were pushed aside, we caught wind of compassion, accountability and decency. Oh my G-d. It’s been years since we’ve heard those sentiments in this house. Our family’s house. The United States.