The Day They Violated America
It’s hardly a surprise that sometimes family or friends closest to us turn out to be expert predators. They study, observe. They search for what they will consume and build webs to garner our participation. Much like Trump, these predators are experts at attuning to our needs and desires. For many white bodies who’ve felt neglected and lost, Trump turned his powerful eye to their disgruntled bodies. He promised jobs, money, and security insurance for religion.
To those who felt the tectonic plates of social awareness shifting against them, his promises were salvation, fresh water. In exchange he took money, erased pretend lines between racism and Christianity, and settled into his throne.
The world swirled in the midst of a pandemic. We all heard it. The cries of raped and murdered souls lost on our American soil no longer held their silence – wailing as George Floyd struggled to breath. Voices raged as Amhaud Arbery was hunted with government approval. As the female Latina immigrants were forcefully sterilized, it wept. It cried. It screamed for our attention.
With the election won by Joe Biden and Kamalah Harris, certain to be approved through the procedural electoral vote count, the white national terrorists took position.
It’s not the first-time white men and women have pillaged and rampaged through the native lands of Anacostans (also documented as Nacotchtank) peoples – what is currently known as Washington D. C. Those first European colonizers had resources, with the purpose of plundering what wasn’t theirs. Having stolen, lied and bled the land and peoples, they constructed cities on native lands. Europeans began their conquest and formation of the US Government with blood on their hands, all while waving a flag of Freedom.
Religion became the convenient impetus for their rights and justification for their brutality. With Faith in one hand, these men set precedence for the raping of America.
The raping of America is nothing new.
January 6th, 2021 my body activated, reeling. These feelings aren’t just from my childhood abusers, but echo ancient pain settled in my bones. Pain travels in my body, landing in muscles. I freeze, act, all useless. I glide in and out of my body – powerless to address the insurrectionists.
My eyes cannot avert from the displays of humiliation and degradation.
I feel the rape of America in my body, too.
The movement of the defiling of the Capitol parallels a process of sexual arousal mixed with shame and humiliation. Trump stoked insurrection with false claims of a fraudulent election, loss of whiteness, power, and religion. He reminded his followers of their deep desire to be known. He knows them. He cares for them. And, then he asked them to march, fight, and destroy the government he is leading.
An aspect of an abuser’s arousal is degradation – its’ intention to make you small. White supremacists want to cement in our collective memory that white supremacy reigns. It doesn’t matter that diverse BIPOC groups and others united across the country – led by Black women had out-organized, and won a fair election in Georgia, Arizona and elsewhere. White supremacy still wins.
Tantalizing tweets of a deranged sitting president fed an appetite for more power.
As I watched the flags with Trump’s face, Scripture verses paraded, I gagged. Fear and shame combined to silence and shock us, but not surprise us. I fear for my life. I’m ashamed of my complicity. My stomach lurches at the thought of singing or reading verses displayed on these flags – flags which marched in front of Europeans to beat and kill natives and preserve slavery were now beating and humiliating the very white law enforcement officers they claimed to support.
Orgasm. Humiliation. Rape.
Evil dwelling beneath shades of white in our society is now welcomed, paraded, and worshiped. Trump is the guardian of Christian values, defender of the unborn.
For those of us that have suffered any number of categories of abuse (emotional, spiritual, sexual, physical, narcissism, and more) we smell the excitement of those around us at the hint of violence. It oozes from the pores of our collective society. This violence is disguised as evangelical white Christianity, promising afterlife, love of Jerusalem, and a kingdom here and now to protect its values.
Trump apologetics make room for the smug face of Richard Barnett, kicked back in Nancy Pelosi’s chair. It is the orgasmic pinnacle for white supremacists who remind us they are the United States. As swiftly as they defiled our nation, they left taking selfies, looting.
Lady liberty hangs her head – I long to cover her, to wrap her body, whisper to her that this isn’t who we are, and yet it is.
We are a nation who has bathed ourselves in trauma as both perpetrator and victim.
Trauma fragments. Some of us freeze – some dissociate, or we fight at random. We are reeling.
This trauma is large, historical, generational: the legacy of racism.
It is a reminder that we are powerless without one another. As we survey the debris fields in our communities we must commit our hearts to meaning-making. Some would say things are working – and we’ve survived. And, I would argue it’s not working – we are a mess.
Source Credits: Dr. Dan Allender, Dr. Chelle Stearns, Dr. Angela Parker, Resmaa Menakem, Marisa Wanderler, Jen Oyama Murphy, Linda Royster, Abby Wong – Heffter, Jenny McGrath, Dr. Chanequa Walker – Barnes, Luis Castillejo, Juan Castillejo, and Charo Sanchez